Over Zeke’s shoulder, Rage spotted Bri coming out from the back flanked by her brother, Chaos, and her fathers, Nash and Cross. Rage’s lip pulled up at the sight of the latter, a retired pig.
Chaos peeled off and joined them.
“She okay?” Zeke asked the club secretary.
“Yeah. A few scrapes and bumps. She’s gonna have a shitload of bruises for sure.”
“She got any info on who did it?” Rage asked him.
Chaos shook his head. “Fuck no. But I can guess.”
“Yeah. We’re thinkin’ the same,” Zekeconfirmed.
“What’re we gonna do about it?” Bri’s twin asked. “They crossed a fuckin’ line that never shoulda been crossed. Cross and Nash are pissed and want answers. They ain’t the only ones.”
“We all want fuckin’ answers,” Rage grumbled. “Ain’t gonna get ‘em from the women. Lexi don’t know shit.”
Chaos huffed. “Or she does and is keepin’ that shit to herself so she can handle it the way she wants.”
“She better fuckin’ not,” Rage growled.
Chaos shrugged. “You know how fuckin’ stubborn these women are.”
“It’s in the goddamn blood,” Zeke said with a shake of his head.
“It’d be stupid for them to try to handle those fucks on their own,” Rage reiterated.
“Maybe they’ll finally fuckin’ realize how stupid it was to start their own club,” Zeke suggested.
Chaos snorted. “Good luck with that shit. Givin’ them too much credit. Wonder how those motherfuckers even know the women’s so-called club’s tied to us.”
“Goddamn women love to flap their traps,” Rage answered.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the crowd part again as Lyric, her brother, Phoenix, and father, Crow, exited into the waiting room next. The men’s expressions were unreadable.
Good fucking thing he was taller than most of the others so he could quickly scan her from where he stood. But before he could finish, his feet were already moving. He needed to see the damage done up close.
Though, with every stride over to them, his jaw got tighter and his blood began to boil.
Crow’s dark eyes tracked him as he approached.
“Brother,” Rage responded when the OG jerked his chinup at him in greeting. He immediately turned his attention to Lyric. Her long, black hair wasn’t contained in its normal French braid. Instead, it was a mess and hanging loosely down her back.
“Ash,” she greeted softly, her dark eyes turned up to him.
At six-foot-three and two-hundred and thirty pounds, Rage dwarfed her.
His eyes skimmed over her, taking in the bandages and an arm sling.
“What’s the damage?”
“Some road rash and a sprained shoulder and wrist,” Nix answered for his sister before she could.
“Good thing it’s my left arm and not my right. I wouldn’t be able to tattoo for a bit.”
She probably didn’t realize she used both hands to sling ink. He knew that because she’d done the majority of his tattoos.
And he had a shitload of them. So, yeah, he knew very well about her using both hands on him.