Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Callum

The night held its breath as they worked, the stars slipping behind bands of clouds that shrouded them in shadow. Dylan and Rocco returned with an old blue tarp, their practiced hands doing nothing to calm Dakota’s tremble. Even though Callum coaxed Dakota to lock herself in the back bedroom, the hollow stare she pinned on the smeared pool of blood was flooded with a set of emotions Callum couldn’t identify. With rasping breaths and loud curses, the body was rolled into the crinkled plastic before being heaved into the trunk of Rocco’s old beater. It clanked against the bricks and chains Dylan retrieved from the clubhouse.

Then, Callum began scrubbing the crimson mess from the walls with a sponge he found beneath the sink. He cut out the blood-stained carpet with a pocket knife, replacing it with a piece from the extra roll he found in the basement. While he ripped and tore his way through the house, going as far as tossing the broken furniture into the backyard, Dakota’s stifled sobs floated under the gap in the door.

Though it had been a lifetime, Callum remembered the feeling of adrenaline wearing off, leaving one with nothing but a gaping numbness that came on its heels. He hadn't forgotten how the darkness clawed and writhed, threatening to drag one into an unrelenting chasm, but Dakota…

He half considered curling into the warm sheets with her but dismissed it as his hand hovered above the door knob. He could have sworn a rushed exhalation curled against the other side of the door when he stepped away. Whether it was one of relief or dejection, he had no interest in analyzing it. That had been hours ago.

“Dakota?” Callum knocked softly on the bedroom door before cracking it open. The room was dark, though the deep orange streaks that greeted dawn had already begun to illuminate it.

He paused at the threshold, watching as her breathing fluttered the locks of blonde hair framing her face. From the wrap of the sheets around her legs and the red blotches still staining her cheeks, her sleep must have been restless. His eyes fell to the leather journal tucked under her pillow. Would it be worth their friendship if he stole it and lit the fucking thing on fire?

The front door banged open, and Callum quickly shut the bedroom door with a soft snick. Heading into the living room, he spotted a sweaty and soiled Rocco, a wash of swamp water and green-tinged muck.

“What happened to you?” Callum asked as he pulled a cigarette from the box in his pocket. He went to light it, pulled the memory of Dakota admonishing him a few weeks before, and then tucked it behind his ear.

“Tipped the fucking canoe over trying to push that stupid fucking Ranger out of the boat.” Rocco’s boots squelched as he stalked into the kitchen to grab a clean dish towel, drying his short hair with aggressive swipes. “You fucking owe me, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll think of something.”

Rocco tossed the towel, now smelling equally as swampy, onto the kitchen counter. “How is she?”

“Asleep. I’m heading back to the club for a few hours of sleep before going to the shop.”

Rocco nodded. “Any update on Lyra?”

Callum sighed as he grabbed the keys to his motorcycle from the kitchen table. “I wish I could say. We know where she isn’t.”

“I’m going fucking crazy. I’ve ridden every side street, gone in every abandoned distill house.” Rocco lifted a mud-covered hand to rub the back of his neck. “And I’m trying really fucking hard not to pull an Ace here.”

Callum clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the stench and slime. “We’re gonna find her. Even if it takes burning this city to the ground. I’m never letting this go.”

Rocco blew out a breath. “I know you won’t.” He swallowed, glancing toward the back bedrooms through the dawn-lit hallway. “I’ve never felt this helpless before, man. And I’ve never met a challenge that a gun couldn’t fix. ”

Callum let out a half-hearted chuckle. “You pointed your gun at Lyra in all of those fights you’ve had with her?”

“You know what I mean. I would give my life to be fighting with her right now.”

“I know the feeling.”

The late summer morning heated the sweat sticking to the back of Callum's neck. The sun had barely peeked over the tops of the houses, shining brightly against the dew-coated grass. Callum placed his feet on the ground as he approached a stoplight, and his attention slid to the purr of the bike beneath him. A long, overdue breath escaped his lips. One step at a time, one minute at a time.

The familiar whoop of an Iron Guard cruiser sounded behind him, and Callum glanced over his shoulder to see John Montgomery glaring through the bug-spotted windshield.

What a fucking joke.

Callum scoffed as he kicked his bike into gear and pulled into the nearest gas station parking lot. He shut off the engine and tugged off his helmet, placing it in front of him. Most would spare a look of respect to any Guard on the street. But acknowledging John Montgomery gave him power, and ignoring him would piss him off. Callum chose the latter, fixing his stare on the nearest gas pump.

“License and registration,” John said tersely as he strolled up, his hand on the end of his gun.

Callum reached into his wallet and fished out both, handing them to the Ranger. “Playing traffic guard is beneath you, isn’t it?”

John glanced over both, too quickly to ensure the dates weren’t expired, and handed the documents back to Callum. “What are you doing on this side of town?”

Callum crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it illegal for me to be on this side of town?”

“It’s suspicious at seven in the morning,” John replied. He spread his stance. “Lyra’s house is on this side of town.”

Callum huffed a laugh, deciding to play dumb. “Is it?”

It paid off.

John bristled, and a sweet shot of vindication blasted through Callum’s chest. “Lyra is still missing. And my daughter is staying there.”

“Is she?” Callum casually leaned his forearms against the handlebars, a smirk gracing his lips. “Fascinating. That’s news to me.”

John’s stare hardened, his jaw set with the clench of his teeth. “Stay away from her. Wouldn’t want to find yourself in the same prison cell as the one you just crawled out of.”

“I didn’t think you even liked your daughter,” Callum retorted, squinting his eyes against the sun. “And this is now the second time you’ve tracked me down over her.”

John stepped back as another car parked beside the gas pump behind them. “Just here to remind you that I’m watching. Until you’re out of the picture for good, I’ll be here to step in.”

“You mean, until she goes back to Blackdon?” Callum’s smirk curled into a shit-eating grin at John’s slow blink. “Oh, she didn’t tell you that she planned on returning? Well, this got fucking awkward. I’ll let you have that conversation with her. Since you’re so close to her now and all.”

“I haven’t said you can leave yet,” John seethed. The vein pulsing in his forehead was one of the more beautiful sights Callum had seen in his thirty years on the planet.

Callum slid the helmet on, buckling the strap under his chin. “You don’t have to.” He kicked his motorcycle into gear. “And Dakota certainly didn’t tell me to leave last night either.” He sped off back into traffic, leaving John standing dumb-founded in his wake.

For all intents and purposes, Callum meant to crash in one of the spare bedrooms the moment he got to the clubhouse. It was closer to the shop than his house, and it was usually quiet this time of morning. But seeing Duke’s motorcycle parked in the lot gave him enough pause to consider bypassing the club entirely. Sighing, he decided not to be fucking ridiculous and parked his bike next to the Lead’s.

Callum quietly opened the front door and slid into the hallway. The flickering florescent lights were still off, or the bulbs had finally blown entirely, and soft voices rose on the air-conditioned breeze.

“He’s out,” Joanna hissed with the venom of a cobra. Callum stopped in his tracks. “ He’s not hearing any of this, Duke.”

A brief silence followed a thud and loud snore that Callum recognized as Ace’s.

Duke snorted. “Fucking waste. Red should be ashamed.”

A piercing shot of anger flowed through Callum. Duke constantly fed Ace a steady supply of distills. Callum and Rocco were the ones desperately trying to break him of it.

“Don’t you see him watching Ace during club meetings? That’s the only child he has left—”

Duke’s heavy footsteps crossed the room, and the legs of a chair scraped against the floor. “He has Sierra.”

It was Joanna’s turn to scoff. “We both know she left with Audrey the day Raven was buried. Red doesn’t have anyone left.” Callum made to move forward, but his mother went on. “We have to talk about them.”

Duke sighed, and Callum could imagine him rubbing his temple as he did when he got frustrated. “We don’t have to talk about anyone, Joanna. Callum is more than capable of making his own fucking decisions. He’s thirty years old, for gods’ sake.”

“That girl blinded him before. She’ll do it again.”

“I think you give her too much credit. She’s a Montgomery. The best she can do is give her father a call and—“

A second chair scraped against the floor, and Joanna’s voice turned pleading. “Duke, we’ve sacrificed too much. We’ve been through too much. It was nearly impossible twelve years ago. Doing it a second time isn’t going to work.”

“We have to trust that Callum knows—“

Joanna’s irritated huff grated Callum’s fried nerves. “You were supposed to lead him in the direction we needed him to go. By the ear if necessary.”

There was another pause followed by a swift hand smack against a face, and Joanna hissed. “I’ve done everything for you,” Duke finally said, his voice low and full of warning. “Everything. Don’t you fucking forget that. I hired Hunter to take care of the Tex problem. Shit, it was me who got your son out of prison when the time was finally right. And I’m about to end the shit with Raven’s murder and Dominic Sinclair. So sit down, shut the fuck up, and let me run this club.”

“Lay hands on me again,” Joanna said, poison dripping from every muffled word. “And I’ll cut off your dick in your sleep.”

“You won’t do shit. You let Tex push you around for twenty fucking years.”

There was a flick of a lighter, and the acrid stench of cigarettes curled in the air .

“I should have never let you do what you did to Tex.”

Duke inhaled deeply, and Callum suddenly wished he hadn’t left his box of cigarettes at Lyra’s house. Dakota would inevitably toss them in the toilet the moment she woke up. “What’s done is done, baby. And your hands are as bloody as mine.”

“Hunter Donovan is—“

“Not a problem,” Duke said. Glass dragged against wood—the ashtray. “I’ve got enough hanging over him that he won’t come near this club even if it meant life or death. Not after that shit he got into with Tex.”

Callum gritted his teeth as he backed out of the hallway, squeezing through the front door again. Anger pulsed as he kicked his motorcycle into gear. Hunter's shithole was easy to get to and easy to remember. In Viper territory, so their rival could be blamed for his murder. The patches of grass were brown and dead, and it was still too early in the morning for the kids to be scampering across the yards.

The house at the end of the block was dark and shuttered, and the woodworking tools had been cleaned up. Despite the salvaged planks, the porch looked sturdier than it had a few weeks ago. Callum stormed up the steps after parking his motorcycle behind the broken-down car, pounding his hand against the door.

Callum ripped his gun from the holster. He was gonna get answers from Hunter Donovan, the man who had previously slammed the door in his face. One way or another. He had already killed once in the last twenty-four hours. That darkness was still intact.

The door tugged open to reveal Donovan, bleary-eyed and rubbing at the back of his neck. His pupils cleared in a fraction of a second as Callum pressed the barrel of the gun into his chest, forcing Hunter back into the house.

“What the fuck did you do to my father?” Callum asked, his tone quietly lethal. He didn’t need Ace’s aggression to get his point across. There was a reason he had been voted in as Vice the moment he was released from prison. Violence was a delicate dance, and it came easily to him.

Hunter put his hands up in surrender, though Callum wasn’t na?ve enough to think that the ex-convict wouldn’t steal the gun from him the second he let his guard down.

“You don’t want to do this, Callum,” Hunter said, his voice just as quiet and equally lethal. The familiar Brotherhood wolf tattoo inked into his left pectoral pierced Callum with a stare that rivaled its owner.

“Yeah, I think I fucking do.” Callum only pressed the barrel harder into the man’s chest, digging it painfully into the sternum. Hunter didn’t move a muscle. “And I asked you a question.

“I did what I was told,” Hunter replied. “I got an order, and I followed through with it.”

“You killed him,” Callum said. “You fucking killed him.”

Hunter’s expression curved into pure confusion, and his hands dropped to his sides. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone.”

Callum didn’t falter. He knew better. Both men spent enough time in prison to fool the other into weakness. “You’re lying. Duke hired you to kill my father. I fucking heard him.”

Hunter’s brows furrowed. “I used to work for the Fieldhouse. Duke hired me to move the product. Tex and I…I tried to get Tex out of the business once I realized we were moving distills to the Syndicate.”

“Then what the fuck did you go inside for?” Callum asked, gesturing toward the tattoos littering the man’s chest and arms.

“Moving the distills,” Hunter said slowly, speaking as though Callum was the dumbest fucking person on the planet. “I got caught by the Guard and was fired from the Fieldhouse. I’m lucky I wasn’t executed, quite frankly.”

“You should have been. Why weren’t you?”

Hunter sighed, shaking his head. “I…I sold out the club. I made a deal with the counselors to lessen my sentence in exchange for information.” He must have seen the rage clouding Callum’s expression because he quickly said, “Tex was killed before that deal went through. The club closed ranks, and the counselors never found anything that connected the Brotherhood to the distilling operation.”

Callum stilled. “The Brotherhood should have killed you for what you did.”

“I begged them to,” Hunter said. He slowly backed to the tattered armchair in the corner of the small room, sinking into it. “Begged. Instead, my wife was killed two years ago, and my daughters were taken from me and sent into the system. Courtesy of Duke Malone.”

Callum’s gun lowered an inch. “What?”

Hunter planted his forearms on his thighs. “I don’t want shit to do with the Brotherhood. They destroyed my fucking life. I want to get my kids back and move so far from Norwich that no one will bother tracking me down.”

This time, Callum lowered his gun entirely. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t fucking know, man,” Hunter said, exhaustion marring his tone. “The amount of shit Duke kept from the club...and you all went along with it.” He paused to pick up a half-burned cigarette from the ashtray beside him, relight it, and take a long drag. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was keeping shit from you now. I told Tex he needed to get you and Kane out of it.”

Callum blew out a breath and took a quick look around the house. It was, in fact, a shithole. Cabinet doors hung from the walls by a single hinge, linoleum tiles peeled from the kitchen floor, and rust coated the stovetop.

“It’s all I can afford right now,” Hunter said. Callum glanced back to Hunter, realizing the man had been watching him. “I got out a year ago. All my extra cash has been used to pay my counselor to get my girls back. Duke pays his counselor more, and they’ve blocked every effort I’ve made.”

Callum took in a deep breath before slowly blowing it out. He calculated Hunter, measuring him against what he knew about Duke and the club. Finally, he said, “I could help you get your girls back. But I need information from you.” Hunter began to shake his head vigorously. “I have a…friend. She’s an alchemist at the Guildhall. She would get involved. You give me one piece of information, and I’ll call her.”

Hunter’s hesitation was all Callum needed. They both knew an alchemist was one of the most acclaimed positions in the city. It wouldn’t take much more than Dakota’s word to give the counselors a second thought.

“What information are you looking for?”

It wasn’t going to be that easy. Any discernible information against Duke would come with a heavy price. Callum opted for an easy win.

“Dominic Sinclair. He’s the fourth deputy ranger.” Third, now that Ethan was dead. “What do you know about him?”

Hunter’s brows furrowed. “Dominic Sinclair? The deputy who started as a guard at the prison?”

“The very same.”

Hunter scanned the room. “I knew him on the inside. Haven’t had any interaction with him since I got out. Why?”

Callum finally holstered his gun. A draft blew in from the cracked bay window, skating across his exposed skin. “Any word on the inside regarding his involvement in the shooting of Raven McCoy? Happened two years ago now.”

“Is that what this is about?” Hunter asked as he ran his hand along the scruff covering his jawline. When Callum didn’t respond, he went on. “Like I said, I knew him on the inside. He left a few months before I did. He’s not into killing women. Some of those guards…yeah, I could see it. Not Dominic. He would let the prisoners who did get a good beat down before pulling them apart.”

That’s what Callum was afraid of. “Duke mentioned Dominic’s involvement in Raven’s murder.”

Hunter shook his head. “Nah, man, it’s not him. There’s no way. I’m sorry for your loss, but you gotta look somewhere else. Dominic was always on his high and mighty about protecting women and kids.”

“Not even for a fee?”

Hunter shook his head again. “Not even for a fee. He loathed the woman and kid killers in the prison, and it wasn’t an act. You and I spent enough time in there to see through those.”

Callum had to agree. His meter for bullshit was well-sharpened these days.

“You’ll call her then?” Hunter asked through Callum’s silence. “Your…friend?”

Callum turned toward the door. “Yeah, I’ll call her this afternoon. If you want her to be more involved in your case, you answer my questions.”

Hunter didn’t seem too pleased, but he did seem placated enough. “I appreciate you keeping this between us, Callum. Dominic Sinclair might not be a woman killer, but Duke Malone is."