SIXTEEN
KILLIAN
This was a death sentence.
I knew from the scouts that kept texting me that the roads weren’t safe, and the Destroyers were everywhere. We didn’t have bulletproof vehicles, and most of us just rode our bikes, regardless of the danger.
But it was snowing and the roads were icy. There was also the little issue of taking a doctor hostage and hauling back all the shit they needed.
“Let me lead the group. I’ll create a diversion. Or put me in charge of grabbing the doc,” Giles offered while sliding his gun into the back waist of his jeans.
I glanced over at Wes, who had his head down and his jaw locked. I knew what thoughts were running through his head. I knew how hard this was for him and Callie. It was Christmas Eve, and the club wasn’t supposed to interfere with family time. It was a rule we lived by, but there was nothing we could do. Nothing to be done, because if Natty lost Silas, the damn holiday would be ruined. I had never grown a single fuck for the guy, even after ten years. But I cared about Natty, Rook and Ryle.
I cared about the way Laura hugged me so tight I thought my chest might break, and how she whispered thank you to me. How she promised that she’d see me later, and that this wouldn’t be our end. The way I held onto her words was the only thing that had me moving.
“Giles, if you want Chaos Kings to lead, then fine, but I was thinking of having Death Raiders lead, and Chaos Kings follow.”
Jameson glanced over at me and gave a small nod.
As a previous president, his opinion mattered, and every now and then he’d silently give me a nod, just to encourage me that he agreed with what I was doing. It was a small mercy.
Lance stepped up, a phone to his ear. “Death Raiders can lead. They’re waiting on my call.”
I gave a small nod, still fighting this feeling in my gut. We’d been in battle plenty of times, but each time I left feeling like we’d come home at the end. This was the first time I left mounting my bike while knowing there was a good chance this would be the last time I saw my family.
Holding my helmet in my hands, my leather jacket had slid up, revealing my wrist. I tilted it forward to see the three daisies I had tattooed there.
Laura, Royce and Taryn.
My three reasons for living. With one last look at the club, I secured the strap of my helmet under my chin and started my bike, then I ignored the two blonde-haired little girls crying while they watched me ride away.