Somehow, I missed that when I arrived.
My body flopped lifelessly inside of the hole, back hitting the ground with a thunderous THWACK that echoed even louder than my voice when I called out for Faith. I couldn’t make my lips move, but I wanted to groan—my whole body was fucking screaming in silence beneath my skin.
Darkness overwhelmed my vision, between the mud sticking to my eyelids, and the tears that did all the crying for me, everything was a blur. I briefly caught a slight glimpse of the Armada’s infamous logo as my attacker walked past my grave to grab something on the other side, but that was all I was able to see before the first clump of dirt hit my chest, dropping on top of me like a hundred-pound weight had been thrown down into the hole instead of a pile of earth. Each shovel of dirt felt heavier than the last until every inch of my body had been pinned down by soil and I couldn’t move. The last thing to be covered was my face.
A head peered over the side of the hole, but I couldn’t see any features, just a black shadow person staring down at me.
“I’ll give Faith your love, motherfucker. Say hi to the Devil for me.” I couldn’t see who it was, but the voice—fuck, I knew that voice well.
I can’t believe that voice had been there this whole time and I couldn’t remember it. My mind had locked it away in some unknown vault, but now that he was standing here shaking my damn hand, it was all coming back to me.
Guerrilla! The man who shot me in the fucking back was Guerrilla!
My grip tightened, my eyes narrowing. Anger shook through my hand, heat rising up my neck. My piece dug into my backside, almost as if it was goading me into pulling it out.
It would be so fucking easy. One slip behind my back and I’d have the barrel of my gun biting into that smug ass chin, digging into the shadow of scruff he refused to shave. God, he was fucked up. The closer I looked at him, the more I could see how far down the rabbit hole he really fell. Meth sores covered his cheeks, his nose red and raw from sniffing cocaine. He even had track marks on his arms where he shot up heroine. How was this guy even alive? It was like his body was one giant Molotov cocktail, veins flowing with kerosene, one fucking match and BAM this motherfucker would be dead.
“What the fuck? You wanna let go of my hand, shithead?” Guerrilla asked, yanking my hand that refused to let go.
Cipher elbowed me in the side, and I dropped his hand, reluctantly.
“What the fuck was that?” Guerrilla growled, rubbing his hand.
“You just reminded me of someone from my past,” I bit, chewing on my words very carefully. “Somebody I’d murder if I ever got my hands on him.”
Guerrilla’s eyes went wide.
Ice stepped between us and glared at me. “You’re really bad at listening aren’t ya, Prospect? You just got voted in and you’re already causing trouble.”
“I didn’t do anything but shake his hand.”
“And try to fuck me,” Daisy piped in, glaring at me. “That prospect tried to fuck me, baby.”
Guerrilla’s brow arched, his eyes narrowing. “Cipher, you better talk to this asshole about the difference between Old Ladies and Sweetbutts. Cause if any man tries to pluck my Daisy, I’ll fucking kill ‘em dead.”
Daisy looked over at me smugly. Fucking bitch, she’s trying to hang me out to dry because I wouldn’t fuck her.
“He didn’t do shit,” one of the other prospects said, walking in on the conversation. “Daisy jumped on his lap and tried to get him to take her into the bathroom. Guess he could see her whorish ways from a mile away.” Thank God for brotherhood. I watched the man settle between us. He was the smaller of the two I saw earlier, and I noticed he had some kind of device over his left ear. I think it’s a Cochlear Implant.
Daisy glared at my fellow prospect. “Lies. Guerrilla, baby, you don’t believe a fucking prospect over your Old Lady, do you?”
Guerrilla glared at me but shrugged his shoulders. “I trust Rex, this motherfucker I don’t fucking care for at all. If I had met him beforehand, I would’ve voted with Switchblade. He’ll never be one of my brothers.”
It was almost as if Guerrilla saw through my exterior and saw the man within. He had suspicion in his eyes and all I had in mine was vengeance.
Cipher gripped my shoulder, squeezing hard. “Give him a chance, Guerrilla. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s been fucking unaffiliated and isn’t accustomed to our rules and regs. I’ll get him in line, and if I don’t, you can kick his ass,” Cipher offered. “Ain’t that right, Prospect? Guerrilla can kick your ass if you get out of line again?”
I shot Cipher a look, but I could see behind that wall of perfectly sculpted hair; he was desperately trying to keep my identity a secret and I wasn’t helping him at all.
“Sure.” It was one simple word, but in my mind, I had six others to go with it.
If he lives to see tomorrow.
“Better make sure this motherfucker gets his shit straight, Cipher. You just got patched in, it’s real fucking easy to lose that patch if you’re not careful,” Guerrilla threatened, gripping Daisy who was eye-fucking Cipher like she was ready to mount him like a pony. Cipher wasn’t looking away either, he was eye-fucking her right back.
Damn. This chick has no idea how to be someone’s Old Lady.
“He’ll fucking listen, I’ll make him. Come on, Prospect, you and I need to have a chat.” Cipher grabbed me by the back of my neck and moved me across the room, taking me to the back bedrooms.
Fuck, I really messed this up.
“What was that shit?” Cipher asked after throwing me into his bedroom.
I felt like I had just walked into a villain’s evil hideout, because along one wall were five computer monitors, a massive black desk, and sinister looking computer tower that looked like something out of the Matrix. There was barely enough room for his bed, that was wedged in a corner and modestly covered by a black comforter. He had a handful of computer manuals shoved into a bookshelf headboard that sat behind the bed, and a string of unused condom wrappers hanging off one of the shelves. The room was immaculately clean otherwise. There wasn’t a single beer bottle, cigarette butt, or used condom in sight, which wasn’t normal for members.
Cipher took a seat in the massive rolling chair in front of his computer and waited for me to answer him.
“If I said a momentary lapse of judgment, would you believe me?”
“Momentary lapse of judgment, my ass. What the hell happened back there? I thought you had this?”
“I remembered some shit from the night I was shot. It came at me like a fucking movie. I don’t remember faces, but I sure as shit remember the voice of the man who looked down the hole and told me to tell the Devil hello for him as he buried me alive. It was fucking Guerrilla. I wanted to pull my pistol out and shoot that motherfucker right then and there.”
Cipher shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that’s . . . fuck . . . are you sure?”
“No, but yes. It’s a jacked-up memory, parts of it are hard to remember. I mean, that asshole buried me alive and left me for dead.”
“You’re a better man than me. I probably would’ve shot him.”
“I wanted to. Still do.”