Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Callum

“Thanks, Dakota. I’ll let him know. We’ll meet you up there.” Callum ended the call with a quick press of his thumb before turning to look at Rocco. “They found Lyra.”

Rocco’s fingers froze against his temple, and his gaze slowly lifted. “What?”

“I don’t know the details,” Callum went on as he tucked his phone into his back pocket. “She’s at the Guildhall with Dakota now. They just got there.”

Rocco shot out of his seat, the chair wobbling dangerously on its back legs as it regained balance. “What—who—how—“

“Is that why she took my truck?” Kane asked from the couch. His foot stopped bouncing against the floor, anxiety pinching his brow together.

Callum held up his hands. “I don’t know anything else. That’s all she told me.” It was the first call she had returned since hightailing it out of the club in Kane’s truck all those hours ago. The distraction was enough for Red to slink through the front door. Callum didn’t notice until the rumble from the red motorcycle cut through the confusion.

“I have to go,” Rocco murmured. He patted his pockets, and his gaze scanned the clubhouse. Callum grabbed Rocco’s motorcycle keys from the coffee table and tossed them. Rocco deftly caught them in his right hand.

“I’ll follow you out. Let me lock up.”

Rocco was already halfway toward the entrance, his stern stare locked in determination as he disappeared into the darkened hallway. There was a crash and a whoop as someone barreled through the front door, the cold scent of autumn on the chilled hallway breeze. The front door slammed shut as Hurricane Ace blew into the building.

“What the fuck is he in a hurry for?” Ace asked as he sauntered into the communal space, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Lyra was found,” Kane replied with an ease that didn’t quite match the situation, though he didn’t tear his eyes away from the rerun of Dominic Sinclair’s story that began to play on the evening news. Callum knew there was only so much his younger brother could digest, and after learning about Red and Raven…

Ace snorted as he reached into his pocket. “So, what, he’s headed off to get his dick wet? Vonnie is gonna be here in like ten fucking minutes. He could have just waited for her.” The fluorescent lighting reflected off the glass vial in his hand as he lifted it to take a swig.

Anger burned a hole through Callum’s heart. Anger at Ace. Anger at Red. Anger at himself for not seeing through the fucking bullshit like his father had. He stormed forward, swiping the vial from Ace’s hand, tossing it to the ground, and stomping on it. The glass fractured beneath his sneaker's sole, spilling the rest of the distill into the old carpet.

“What the fuck, man?” Ace shouted, gesturing wildly toward the shattered glass against the floor. “I’m fucking celebrating tonight!”

“Celebrating what, asshole?” Callum retorted. He shoved Ace in the chest with one hand, sending his best friend stumbling into the back of Rocco’s abandoned chair. Learning where Dakota had run off only quelled the boiling rage he harbored toward Red, but it still simmered beneath the surface. Ready to explode. “We’ve known Lyra since we were five fucking years old, and she was just found outside of The Boundary in a swamp!”

“You just said she was fucking found!” Ace roared. “And I’m celebrating the end of that motherfucker right there!” He pointed toward the television screen, where Dominic’s picture floated against the backdrop of the quarry.

“Killing someone shouldn’t be celebrated,” Callum shot back. His hands clenched into fists as he took a threatening step toward Ace. “Especially now that his fuckwad older brother is here sniffing around!”

Ace waved a dismissive hand at the television, where Damian Sinclair was speaking to the camera in his tailored suit and combed-back hair. “I’m not worried about him—“

“You should be.”

“The only thing I was ever worried about was figuring out who killed Raven.” Ace spread his arms wide, his grin twisting into a saccharine smirk that looked a little too on the nose compared to Duke’s. “And here we fucking are, Callum. I did it.”

Callum could feel Kane’s stare boring into the side of his temple, but he didn’t dare let his gaze slide in his brother’s direction. Instead, he shook his head, allowing an indignant huff to escape his lips. “Yeah, you fucking did it, Ace. You brought business mogul Damian Sinclair breathing down the Brotherhood’s neck. I hope it was worth it.”

Tension crackled through the air, thick as a summer storm. Ace shook his head, his lip curling as he surveyed Callum as though he were looking at him through a new lens.

“I don’t know what happened to you, man,” Ace said as he closed the gap between them. “No, I know exactly what the fuck happened to you.” He pressed a finger into Callum’s chest. “Dakota Montgomery comes waltzing out of the fucking woodwork, and all of a sudden, you lose sight of what the Brotherhood is all about.”

Something wild and unpredictable rose to life inside Callum. He stepped forward to close the gap completely, coming nose-to-nose with Ace. Callum could smell the distill on his breath, the cloying citrus scent of Euphoric.

“Don’t talk about her,” Callum seethed through gritted teeth. “If anything, she’s made me see the Brotherhood for what it is. What it could be.”

Ace didn’t yield an inch. “You have no idea what the Brotherhood could be because you haven’t bothered to be present for months. You know who has? Duke. He tracked down Raven’s killer. He’s been the support for me. Not you.”

“He’s been lying to you!” Callum retorted with enough venom that Ace narrowed his eyes. “Duke doesn’t give a shit about you, about me, or this club. He lied about my father’s death. He’s feeding you distills to keep you addicted. And he knows that Dominic Sinclair didn’t kill Raven.”

Ace’s fist swung upward, and Callum had to duck to avoid the blow. Luckily, despite their proximity, the Euphoric distill Ace took made his movements sluggish and heavy. The punch threw Ace off balance, and he collided with the table’s edge with a loud thwack .

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ace said as Kane hopped up from the couch, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. “Dominic Sinclair killed Raven. Duke got the official reports.”

Callum didn’t have time for this. Whatever the fuck happened to Lyra was waiting for him at the Guildhall. Dakota was waiting for him at the Guildhall. He thrust a hand forward to yank Ace’s cell phone from his pocket. The fight Ace put up was laughable .

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Kane asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, the burn scars peeking from beneath the sleeve tugged to his elbow. “He’s taken half a vial.”

Punching in the code Callum knew by heart, he unlocked the screen, pulled up Red McCoy’s phone number from the contact list, and pressed dial. He placed it on speaker, the ringtone sharp in the otherwise silent room.

“Son,” Red answered after the second ring. “Whatcha need?”

“Tell him what you told me,” Callum bit out as Ace’s short fingernails scrabbled over his wrist to try and get the phone. “Tell Ace what you told me today.”

“Callum—“

“No, Red. No. We’re done with the lies and the cover-ups,” Callum retorted. He wrapped his fist in Ace’s t-shirt to hold him at bay. “It’s time for the truth. Fucking tell Ace what you told me.”

“I fucking did it, Dad,” Ace proudly shouted, a manic grin splitting his face. “I fucking found the asshole who killed Raven.”

Red said nothing for a long moment, though his shallow breathing was heavy on the other end of the line. Callum could envision him seated in his worn-out armchair, his elbow braced on the armrest, his hand covering his eyes. If not for the timer that slowly ticked away on the call’s screen, he would have thought Red hung up the phone.

“You’re a fucking cocksucker, Callum Reynolds.”

Ace’s grin slipped, and he went eerily still as his once-triumphant stare dropped to the phone. “Dad?”

“What was your reasoning?” Red went on. “What good did this do? What’s done is done.”

Callum shook his head. “You and my father wrote that journal together, Red. I’m not letting Ace get more involved with Duke than he already is.” Beside him, Ace’s breathing turned shallow as he thrust a hand through his hair. “And if that means ripping off the band-aid, so be it.”

Ace was shuddering, his chest heaving with every pull of air. As if he couldn’t get it in fast enough. As if it were strangling him. His fingers curled in his locks, threading into a white-knuckled grip as he crouched to his haunches.

“This was a mistake, boy.”

Ace shot to his feet, his face red and coated in a thin layer of sweat. “ Who was it ?” he screamed into the phone, his eyes bulging further and further with every word. “ What happened to my sister ?” His breaths came out as sobs, spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t wipe it away.

“A hit was ordered on me,” Red said, his tone the same air as though he were commenting on the weather. “Raven and I were together when it happened. The bullet was meant for me.”

“You knew!” Ace screamed. “You fucking knew this whole godsdamned time?”

Callum swiped a hand down his face, ignoring his tightening throat. His throbbing headache. The sensation that something heavy and unmovable had settled onto his chest. He was torn in the middle—knowing that he shouldn’t have said anything to Ace but realizing it was necessary.

“Yes, I knew,” Red replied quietly, his voice growing softer. “I didn’t think—I didn’t—“

Ace spun around, his gaze tracking around the clubhouse. Floundering. Lost. It was written all over his face, etched into every nook and cranny that the years and distills had taken from him. His eyes landed just off Kane’s shoulder, where the photograph of Dominic Sinclair was nestled into the corner of the news anchor’s frame.

He cleared the room in an instant. His hand balled into a tight fist that he slammed into the screen. Again, again, and again. He yelled, the words unintelligible, tears streaming down his face and blood pooling into his cracked knuckles. The screen was black, flickering a string of colors in the corner, but that didn’t seem to be enough. He picked up the television, ripping the cord from the wall, and launched it across the club.

Callum didn’t move, even held out a hand to stop Kane from intervening. The beer steins and shot glasses went next, each crashing into a pile of shattered glass and cracked metal that littered the floor. One stein went straight through the front of the jukebox, dislodging the records inside.

“I killed him.” Ace turned to face Callum and Kane, his eyes wide. He swayed on his feet. “I killed him.” Callum hadn’t seen his best friend smaller, more childlike than he was at that moment. “I killed him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second vial of Euphoric, downing the entire thing in one gulp before Kane could grab it from his hand.

“What’s happening?” Red asked, his alarmed voice cutting through the silence.

Ace’s dull stare dragged across the carpet. The world could have settled on his shoulders, and perhaps it had. The empty vial dropped from his hand with a clink against the floor. His gaze lifted, locking with Callum’s. His gulp was heard over the ticking clock, over Red’s pleading.

“I’m sorry. ”

His hand reached behind him, and time slowed to a crawl. A gun appeared from where Ace usually tucked it in the waistband of his jeans. Callum surged forward as the barrel turned upward, and the cell phone clattered to the floor.

A single gunshot rang out. And Callum’s world imploded.