Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Callum

Callum was torturing himself.

If the feeling of her body caving to his grip wasn’t enough, the hitch of her breath at his touch nearly brought him to his knees. She was intoxicating. The sway of her hips as she descended the porch steps. The shine of her hair against the afternoon sunlight.

Even the drive back to the clubhouse was in tortured silence. Callum kept his arm glued to the center console, his elbow close enough to feel her heat. To feel the electricity that passed through that inch of space.

Dakota stared out of her window as he drove, though her fingers remained firmly tangled in the loose threads of her shorts. Her nervous tick. So she was as terrified as he was.

If he placed a hand on her thigh, just rested it there as he would have when they were teenagers, he wondered if she would pull away. By the time he worked up the courage to test it, the car was parked in the club’s lot, and Dakota had damn near thrown herself out of the passenger seat.

She rounded the car as he climbed out of the driver’s side and held out her hand for the keys. Her face was an impassive mask that he couldn’t read, and instead of digging that courage back out to talk to her about it like a real fucking person, he just dropped the keys into her palm and watched her drive away.

Like a real fucking idiot .

Sighing, Callum took his buzzing phone out of his pocket and answered.

“We’re ready at sunset,” Rocco’s crackling voice said through the line. Ace’s music was on low in the background. “Maverick’s got the guns. Duke’s in position.”

Callum steeled himself, encasing his thawing heart into that metal cage—thinner now than ever before. “I’ll be there.”

Callum parked his motorcycle behind the black utility van and yanked his helmet off. The side door slid open as he approached, and he clambered inside, dropping his helmet to the van floor with a dull thud.

Rocco glanced up at him, back down to the gun he was loading, and then back up to him again. Whatever he saw expressed on Callum’s face, he only raised his brows and turned back to his gun.

“I’m fucking ready,” Ace said, almost vibrating with excitement. His profile was illuminated as a car drove by, lighting up the violence echoing through his wild gaze. “Let’s fucking go, man. What are we waiting for?”

“The sign,” Rocco retorted with a head shake. “Maverick is on the corner. He’s waiting on the signal from Duke.” He charged the bullets into place. “Where have you been?”

Callum assessed his pointed stare. “Helping Dakota.”

Rocco narrowed his eyes. “Helping Dakota or helping Dakota?”

Callum quirked a brow, though he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of his fingers against her skin only hours before. “What’s this about?”

Maverick lit a cigarette three blocks away, and the flash of the flame briefly lit up the street corner before it was snuffed out. Ace threw open the van door, tumbling out with an enthusiasm Callum hadn’t seen from him in years. Callum grabbed a fitted snapback hat from the van floor, labeled for an electrician company that had gone under ten years before, and jammed it on his head.

Rocco crawled out after Ace, already halfway to the street corner, and blocked Callum's path. “Nothing can get in the way of finding Lyra. She’s the priority here. Nothing. Not Dakota, not your father, nothing.”

“Nothing is getting in the way of finding Lyra,” Callum repeated, attempting to stifle that heat of irritation that was always on the verge of fanning into full-blown anger. “You know Dakota’s only helping Kane with distilling.”

Rocco stared at him for a moment further before nodding his head.

“Are you done questioning me on this now?” Callum tacked on in Rocco’s silence. They followed Ace down the block, the cool night air still and quiet. Even the chirping insects and flap of bat’s wings had gone to the wayside, as though everyone knew to clear the way for whatever shit was about to go down. “It’s the third time in a week.”

Rocco adjusted the bill of his cap. “You’ve got your hands in a lot of shit. I’m just reminding you who this is for.”

Callum swallowed a barbed retort and instead said, “You don’t need to remind me, man. I could never forget that Lyra is the priority here. She’s fucking family.”

“When is your next meeting with Max?” Rocco asked as they crossed the final intersection. Both men dipped their heads while passing under the orange glow of the streetlamp.

“Next week. We’ve put him to task for Lyra and Raven.”

Rocco nodded as they approached Maverick and Ace but said nothing more. Smart. Ace didn’t need to hear his murdered sister’s name before they entered into the fray of a dangerous distill run. It would only set him off further.

“Just waiting on the signal from the Lead,” Maverick said. He shifted the toolbox he carried in his hand, looking every part the electrician in his navy uniform and fitted cap. “Finn Blackthorn isn’t in house. We’re looking at six Vipers in the front of the club and five in the back. From the looks of the coverage and where the guns are, the distills are being held in the back.”

The bright moonlight sliced across the street, painting a silver path following the shadow of the trees. Ace turned toward it, a predator in the veiled night, as he drew his gun from the holster.

“You’ll stay with me—“ Maverick began to say to Ace, but Callum quickly shook his head.

“No, Rocco will go with you. Ace will stay with me.”

Maverick opened his mouth to argue, but Ace slapped a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “It’s you and me, brother. We’ll take the back.”

Callum shot Maverick an impervious look that Maverick only returned in kind. This may have been Maverick’s deal, but Callum was the Vice, and he would call the nitty-gritty shots. There was no fucking way he was going to allow Ace and Maverick to go off on their own together. One of them would inevitably be killed—or worse .

“We’ll take the front then,” Rocco said through the building tension. He stepped up to Maverick’s side. “You, me, and Duke. We’ll cover the operation.”

Callum could tell by the clench of his hands into fists and the stiffness to his shoulders that Maverick was ready to fight. He took one more look at Callum, the glare evident on his thin face, before standing down.

“Fine,” he said in a gruff mumble. “We’ll take the front.”

“Great.”

A small pop from a gun split the night air like a hot knife. Three seconds later, a second pop sounded—the signal from Duke. Callum swallowed back his fear, locked away any residual anxiety that lingered in his veins, and shoved past Maverick.

“You look like a fucking idiot, by the way,” Callum shot over his shoulder as the toolbox slipped from Maverick’s wet palm and clattered to the pavement. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Electricians,” Maverick replied as he abandoned the toolbox with a swift kick that sent it sprawling into the bushes. “We’re supposed to be electricians.”

“We’re not here to play fucking dress-up,” Ace cut in with a derisive snort as he caught up to Callum.

Maverick mumbled something intelligible as he adjusted his cap again and stalked forward after them.

Night covered them like a shroud, and the full moon, now behind a wall of clouds, barely gave off enough refracted light to illuminate the sidewalk. The clubhouse came into view, a palace on the top of a shitty fucking molehill. It was more elaborate than it was functional, with its white brick exterior, spotlights in an immaculately kept garden, and floor-to-ceiling windows that showed off a lobby more similar to a home decor shop than a motorcycle clubhouse.

“What the fuck?” Ace muttered, voicing exactly what Callum had been thinking. “Is this a club for fucking pussys?”

“Are those hydrangeas?” Maverick asked as he halted next to Rocco.

Duke peered out from around the corner of the building, jabbing his chin toward the other side of the clubhouse.

“Why the fuck do you know what a hydrangea looks like?” Ace retorted as he charged his gun, sliding the bullet into place. The click was like its own gunshot, and Callum half-expected Vipers to descend on them.

“I think they look nice…” Maverick went on defensively as Rocco stalked toward Duke, keeping to the shadows of the treeline. “We could use some landscaping.”

A slight breeze wound through the stifling air, tickling Callum’s hair against the back of his neck. Ace followed him to the opposite end of the building, his footsteps quiet against the newly paved blacktop.

“Do you think they already sold our shit?” Ace inquired, tilting his head toward the long dumpster filled to the brim with old roofing tiles and rolls of carpet.

Callum shook his head, and both men pressed their backs to the wall as the rear door opened with a creak. A Viper stepped out, and the serpent embroidered on the back of his leather cut stared directly at Callum and Ace. The man dug into his pocket, retrieved a single bent cigarette, and lit it with the flick of a lighter.

Callum nodded at Ace, who brushed past and crept toward the Viper while screwing the silencer onto the barrel of his gun. The man stared up at the night sky, and on his next exhale, a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed from his mouth.

It was his last exhale.

Ace shoved his hand over the Viper’s mouth, a maniacal laugh bubbling from his throat as the Viper crammed the lit cigarette into Ace’s wrist. Ace jammed the barrel of the gun into the man’s back and let off two shots that were a mere whisper into the surrounding forest. Ace let him drop to the ground, blood beginning to pool underneath the soles of his boots.

Callum walked forward, toeing the dead man’s arm before looking up at Ace. “You have blood on your neck.” Ace swiped the back of his hand across his throat, only smearing the red across the salty sweat of his skin. “Never mind.”

The back door was propped open, shuffling footsteps echoing down the stripped hallway. The lights were bright against the broken tiled floor, and pink insulation was tucked between the exposed wooden beams. It seemed the Vipers had already spent Vanguard’s money on renovations before moving the product. Rookie move.

Callum entered the clubhouse first, his boots squeaking against the linoleum tile. Peering around the doorframe at the end of the hall, he spotted three Vipers lounging around a glass table. Feet kicked up on the surface while absent-mindedly scrolling on their phones. Perfect. Caught them off-guard.

Six wooden crates were shoved in the corner of the room.

A shout sounded from the front of the clubhouse, and the Vipers were suddenly on high alert. Glancing at one another before pushing away from the table, they grabbed their guns from the holsters beneath their leather cuts .

“I should follow them,” Ace said, his voice shaking with anticipation and adrenaline. “Eight against three. Those odds are shit.”

“Rocco will be fine,” Callum murmured as the last of the Vipers left the back room. More shouts echoed down the remodeled corridor opposite them, bouncing off the white marble tile. He slipped from the back hallway and made a beeline for the crates. “We gotta get the distills out of here.”

Ace let out a long sigh as Callum pried off the lid from the top crate. He stuck his hand through the straw packaging and wrapped his hand around the first piece of glass he found. A breath of relief escaped when he stared down at the blue-tinged liquid inside.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from the remodeled hallway, drawing Callum’s attention from the crates. Without a shred of hesitation, he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. The man’s head whipped back as the bullet pierced his eye socket before exploding through the back of his skull. The body crumpled to the floor.

This was where Callum thrived. Not in the mechanic’s shop, not toying with his fucking feelings for Dakota Montgomery. Here. With his gun like an extension of himself and his heart buried so deeply that he was sure it would never surface again.

“Get these out of here,” Callum said as he lifted the first crate into his arms and planted it into Ace’s outstretched hands. “Put them behind that dumpster out back. We'll pull the van up once the Vipers are taken care of.”

Ace grabbed the first crate and headed for the back door. Callum grabbed the next crate and followed. More gunshots and shouts echoed from the front of the clubhouse, but Callum paid them no mind. He would find out who survived once these distills were out.

The final crate was placed behind the dumpster just in time for thick smoke to billow from the door, rolling over the first body Ace dropped in the parking lot. Ace entered the gray haze and grabbed the body by the upper arms, pulling him into the hallway before kicking the wedge from beneath the door, letting it slam shut.

Callum kept his gun in his hand as he followed the exterior of the building around to the front. Orange flames softly licked at the bullet-ridden glass. Blood and bodies littered the inside of the lobby. Smoke rolled from the small holes in the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rocco wiped the sweat from his brow when Callum approached, and Maverick kept his gun trained on the sole survivor forced to his knees.

“Duke?” Callum asked as the man at Maverick’s feet lifted his head.

Rocco sniffed against the onslaught of smoke. “To get the van. The distills? ”

“In the back.”

Maverick nodded before reeling his fist back and punching the Viper across the jaw. Bone against bone cracked, and a tooth spilled onto the black pavement. The man groaned and spat out a glob of blood.

Callum knelt next to the man and reached forward to grip his short hair, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. “How did the Vipers know where our warehouse was?”

The man pursed his lips to spit again, but Callum grabbed his cheeks and jammed the barrel of his gun into the man’s mouth. Another tooth was knocked loose, and blood dribbled from the corner of his lips.

“Just fucking get it over with,” Ace said from behind Callum. “This shitbag isn’t going to tell us a godsdamned thing.”

From the glint in the Viper’s eyes, one that promised violence and retribution if he was left alive, Callum knew Ace was right.

“Fucking gods,” Rocco growled. He crossed the lot in three long strides and ripped something from Ace’s hand. “These distills are for the Syndicate, not you.”

Ace ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Come on, man. They won’t miss one.”

“No, but Duke will know you took one when he looks in your blown-out eyes,” Callum replied over his shoulder, not removing the gun from the man’s mouth. He turned back to the Viper. “If I take this out, will you tell me how the Vipers knew the whereabouts of our warehouse?”

The man only glared harder, and Callum scoffed. Without saying another word, he pulled the trigger. Blood and flesh burst from the back of the man’s head, coating the white brick exterior behind him. Callum wiped the barrel of the gun on the man’s shirt.

“Maverick, help me get this guy inside,” Rocco said as he pocketed the distill with a final side-long look toward Ace, who glared at Rocco’s front pocket with the ferocity of a rabid animal.

Maverick turned a shade of green as he gripped the man under his arm. The head flopped back, brains spilling in front of the toes of his boots. “Fucking gross,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he and Rocco dragged the man into the building. He was dropped in a haphazard heap against the marble floor.

Lights flashed from the beginning of the driveway, and Callum turned his gun on the car creeping up the hill. Duke slammed the van into park and slid from the front seat, a toothpick nestled between his front teeth. Callum holstered his gun .

“Well?” Duke asked curtly. He didn’t elaborate, but Callum didn’t need to him.

“Behind the dumpster,” Callum said with a jerk of his head toward the back of the building. “Looks like it’s all there.”

Duke planted a hand on Ace’s shoulder as he passed. “Grab one for yourself, will you, kid? For a job well done.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Did you hear that, boys? A job well done.”

Irritation and anger coiled through Callum's chest as Ace disappeared behind the burning clubhouse. Ace would rip those crates apart until he found what he was searching for—Euphoric. He had no interest in Strength or Speed until they were in a battle that guns couldn’t win. But the stupid fucking distill that hit like a pure drug…

“I’ve got more news,” Duke said as he lit a cigarette before blowing the acrid smoke into the haze-filled air. He snapped his fingers toward Maverick and Rocco before jutting his chin toward the dumpster. “Load ‘em up, boys.”

“What’s that?” Callum asked as Maverick jogged away from them, moving quickly to gain favor with the Lead. Rocco, on the other hand, glanced at them over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Dominic Sinclair.” Duke took another inhale of his cigarette. “Heard of him?”

A rock sunk into Callum’s stomach, settling uncomfortably in the pits of his lower gut. “He’s a deputy ranger, that much I know.”

“I’ve got some information that he was involved in the murder of Raven McCoy.”

Rocco and Maverick came around the corner, a wooden crate clutched in their arms.

“From?” Callum asked, watching as Rocco shoved the first crate into the van. Maverick followed suit. He wished he had a cigarette. He hadn't smoked since Dakota called him out.

Duke inhaled one more time before dropping the cigarette to the pavement, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “Max found some witness testimony. Looks like the Governor covered it up.”

Something in Duke's tone, in the disingenuous gleam to his eye against the fire now enveloping the clubhouse, set an alarm bell blaring in the back of Callum’s mind. “He was quick on that,” Callum said instead. Ace stumbled from the back of the building, his red-rimmed eyes blurry and unfocused.

“Blackmail works its magic every time,” Duke said as Maverick and Rocco loaded up the last of the crates. He slapped Callum’s back. “Let’s get out of here before the Guard shows up. ”

The red and blue emergency lights at the base of the hill were already illuminating the tree-lined road.

“Yeah, let’s,” Callum said, though he didn’t remove his stare from the spot between Duke’s shoulder blades. Was he being paranoid? That was a trait he had picked up since his time in prison. But he still couldn’t shake that gleam in Duke’s eyes or how he smirked at Ace as he collapsed into the side of the van.