He gestured over to Fighter, who made quick work of grabbing three bottles of beer before heading over to us.
“I’m alive, right?” I replied, taking a bottle from Fighter.
He sat down opposite, his cold eyes and hard expression on me as he nodded. I took a swig of beer, savoring the taste of it as it slid down my parched throat.
I was tired.
Bone fucking tired.
I’d barely slept since I’d been back, each night waking up to the stamping of hooves on the floor and the smell of fire in the air. The sizzle and pop of my hair and flesh melting away… The nightmares had eased off for a few months, but they were back with a vengeance since being back home.
“Don’t mean a whole lot though, does it? Being alive. Take a whole lot more to kill you, brother, but that don’t mean you’re alive where it matters,” Battle replied, taking a swig of his beer.
“Jesus, you’re like the Dalai Lama or some shit. Calm yourself, brother, I’m doing just fine,” I grumbled.
He snickered and popped the top off his beer, and I took another long pull from my own bottle. I shouldn’t really have been drinking, but it’d been too long since I’d tasted beer or whiskey and I’d been making up for all the lost alcohol while I was in hospital. Besides, it was my party after all. Last night, and the night before that, and the night before that…well, that was just catching up.
“Heard you had a thing with your nurse. She not here tonight?” he continued.
Belle.
Motherfucking Belle.
The memory of her was stalking me, haunting my every move.
I gritted my teeth at the thought of her, anger sparking to life inside of me. Hadn’t heard a damn thing since she’d walked off with that Lorenzo guy. Bitch hadn’t even thought to check on me. Like, she’d had my money and her job was done now.
“Fucked her, doesn’t mean there was anything else in it,” I drolled, my gaze moving around the room again until it landed on Lola once more. My dick still refused to cooperate and she was still whispering between her friends and looking over. I was going to kill her if she kept that shit up.
Battle grinned. “That’s the Beast we know. Heard word that you were going soft on us, but it seems they were mistaken.”
My gaze flicked back to Battle and fury rose up in me like a phoenix from the ashes, the spark turning to a flame. I slammed my beer down on the wooden table in front of me and glared at him, watching as his expression changed from amusement to confusion before hardening.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I bit out.
“Calm down, brother,” he scowled, sensing my darkening mood. “What’s got into you?”
Battle and I were evenly matched in weight and strength and we both had a dark side that made us perfect for the jobs we had. I wasn’t sure who would win in a fight between us both under normal circumstances, but right now, it was obvious he’d be able to take me out with one punch. Not to mention he had Fighter on side, and Fighter was one man I’d never wanted to mess with. Fucker had a heart as black and shriveled as the Devil’s, and then some. Yet I still couldn’t taper down my anger.
Had Lola been talking? Spreading shit about me to the club? Bitch like her walking around and mouthing off about my useless dick and repulsive body.
I stood up, fury driving me onward. “I said, what the fuck did you just say to me? Who’ve you been talking to?” I yelled, causing the room to fall silent and turn toward the commotion.
I could hear Lola laughing.
Her little high-pitched cackle at my flaccid dick.
Her heels tottering over the hard floor of the clubhouse as she walked away from me.
Sickness rose up in me and dizziness began to blur my vision.
“I haven’t been talking to anyone,” Battle tried to placate me, but I was already too far gone. “Drink your beer and chill out.”
“Brother, sit down,” Fighter growled, always by Battle’s side.
Fighter… Fuck, now he was one scary motherfucker, even to a man like me. You wanted him onside, and not any other way, because for him, there were no limits to who he’d cut down and how he’d do it.
I took a long breath and glared at him, staring into his cold, dead eyes, and he must have seen something inside me because he stood up, beer still in hand.
“I suggest you take a seat,” he said calmly, before drinking the entire bottle of beer in one swig and slamming it down on the table.
Lola was still laughing.
The room of people were still watching.
All of ’em, staring at the beast that I had become. Burned to fuck, cut up, shredded, diced… every inch represented the evil within me. Fuck Belle, I didn’t have soulful eyes or a rugged neck, my tattoos didn’t look tribal and I certainly wasn’t fucking strong anymore. I was a flaccid-dicked, torn-up, ugly bastard who’d put more men in the ground than all of these fuckers put together. She thought there was good in me, but she was wrong. I wasn’t just going to hell when I died, I was going to lord over it and put the Devil to shame.
I shoved Fighter hard in the chest and he stumbled back a step. “I suggest you watch your tone with me,” I snarled in response, fury burning through my unused muscles. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Beast!” Prez shouted my name across the room before storming toward me. “The fuck are you doing, brother?”
I was still eyeballing Fighter, who looked unfazed by my warning. He didn’t scare easily—or at all. It was one of the reasons we got along so well, and yet right then I needed him to either lay me on my ass or back the hell down, because my vanity needed it. But this was Fighter and he did neither. He just stood and waited for me to make my move.
“Fighter, I’ve got this,” Battle said, trying to calm the situation.
I shook my head, still glaring at Fighter. “Nah, brother, you don’t got this. This motherfucker has come into my clubhouse and disrespected me for the last time,” I ground out.
“I won’t tell you again,” Fighter drolled, hands in his pockets like he was talking to his mama and not a lion that had just been released from its cage. “Sit the fuck down, brother.”
Gauge had come over at some point, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. Pain throbbed under his grip and the ache began to loosen the threads of insanity that were gripping me.
“Beast, this ain’t right. These are your brothers, you know that. We’ve all got your back,” Gauge tried to placate.
Shooter had reached us, and he must have realized right away that there was no calming this situation. That neither Fighter or I were about to back down anytime soon. He pulled out his gun, released the safety, and aimed it at the ceiling before letting off a single shot. Women screamed and dust rained down, but neither Fighter nor I flinched or looked away.
“I will shoot both of you motherfuckers if you don’t step down,” he ordered.
“This ends now,” Shooter roared. “I’m your president and neither of you motherfuckers will disrespect me in my Goddamn clubhouse, now back the fuck down!” he ordered.
I finally took a breath, the air scorching my lungs, and nodded, and Fighter did the same, though we were still toe to toe. Lola was still laughing, the sound grating through my mind, and I shrugged out from under Gauge’s grip, and before I could think it through I was storming across the clubhouse, ignoring the protests from Shooter and Gauge from behind me and heading toward her. Her eyes went wide as I got closer, and I pulled out my gun and placed the barrel against her forehead. She began to cry immediately, and the group of women she was with screamed at the sight of the gun so close to them, before backing away.