Chapter Sixteen
Dan
The silo squatted under a sickle moon like a rusted middle finger to the sky.Twenty bikes rolled in silent, lights off, engines cut a quarter mile out.Boots on gravel sounded like bones breaking.
Inside, a single lantern glowed.Darian Ross, known to the club as Teddy, sat cross-legged on a sleeping bag, phone propped on a crate, live-streaming to a dark-web chat that scrolled with fire emojis and bitcoin tips.He was drunk, swaying, laughing at his own genius.This was their betrayer, the member turned attacker.
Dan stepped into the lantern light.
Teddy’s laughter died.
“Thought you’d enjoy the show,” Teddy slurred, gesturing at the phone.“Betting pool hit twenty grand on whether you’d run into the fire for the bitch, Dan.You didn’t disappoint.”
Dan didn’t speak.He just walked forwards.
Teddy scrambled for the pistol beside him.Dan kicked it away, grabbed a fistful of greasy hair, and dragged him into the open air.
The circle was already waiting.
Mad Dawg.Rocker.Tinder.Denver.Viper.Gunner.Every patched member who could ride, plus the new blood from the absorbed HHMC chapter who wanted to prove they belonged.
Teddy’s eyes darted, realizing too late what awaited him.
Dan zip-tied him to the front bumper of his own rusted pickup.
Then he stepped back.
No speeches.No warnings.
Mad Dawg went first.“For Ella, you piece of shit.”One punch cracked ribs.
Rocker followed.“For the clubhouse.”Boot to the kidney.
Viper.“For the brothers you sold out.”Chain across the face.
Gunner.“For the warehouse.”Knee to the gut.
Denver crouched last.“For every signal you pinged.”Slow, precise strikes to the hands that had typed betrayal.
Twenty minutes later, Teddy was unrecognizable, gurgling through a mouth of broken teeth.
Riley stepped into the circle, chin up, defiant.Dan turned and saw a car sitting a few yards away, Ella still behind the wheel, eyes covered with both hands.
Riley had a bag over one shoulder, and poking out was her cordless tattoo machine, the battery that went along with it, and in her hand, she held a half-empty bottle of gasoline.
Teddy’s one good eye widened.
Riley knelt, plugged the battery pack into place on the tattoo rig, and pressed the needle to his forehead.
The buzz filled the night like angry hornets.
The needle skipped on bone, tearing tiny flecks of skin.Blood welled immediately, mixing with ink, running in rivulets down his temples.Teddy screamed until his voice cracked into wet gurgles.The machine whined higher as it hit the orbital ridge; Riley adjusted the angle and kept going.When she reached the last section, the needle came to a stop against the corner of his eyeball.The smell of scorched flesh joined the gasoline.
Letter by letter, dripping black, permanent, the tattoo spelled out exactly who he was, a T R A I T O R.
She stood, wiped her hands on her jeans, and looked at Dan.