Page 9 of Pope’s Purgatory

“Let’s go to my office,” I say, grabbing my glass and the bottle of Devil’s Mark bourbon before heading out of the common room.

I drop to my seat and kick my feet up on top of the desk. I appear calmer than I am on the inside. Cyanide’s been my best friend since I was a sixteen-year-old punk rolling into his father’s house for the first time. He knows I’ve got acid crawling through my gut.

“You know they’re not going to leave the club and Coral Cay behind easily. This is their family,” I state, taking a sip from my glass.

“They’ll fight us like hellcats. Unless . . .” he trails off.

I nod, tipping my glass his way. “Unless we force them out.”

Cyanide sighs, running his hand over his beard in agitation. “How the fuck are we gonna do that?”

“Brutally.”

My voice is as empty as my fucking heart is.

“Goddammit,” he spits out, jumping to his feet and pacing the room.

How the fuck do I go on living when my heart is already icing over at the thought of what’s to come?

“Finish,” he orders.

“Watch it,” I growl, the fight itching under my skin.

Fuck.We’re both going to have to hit the ring at Tapping It to work this anger out of our veins.

Cyanide drops back into his seat with a groan. “Fuck. Sorry, Prez.”

“I’m going to have to betray her and it’s going to have to hit hard.” I drop my feet and sit up, resting my arms on my desk. “Loyalty has been the only boundary she’s asked of me.”

“Ah, fuck,” he groans, seeing where I’m heading.

“Don’t fucking want anyone but her, brother, but I gotta do a damn good job making her think I do.”

“Who?” he grits out, assuming I already have someone in mind.

Cyanide knows he’s got to betray her by having my back, which means he’ll lose both his sisters. Where Birdie goes, Valkyrie goes—the perks of them being fucking twins, I reckon.

“To save her, my brother, we’re going to have to betray her, and we’re both gonna go to hell for destroying that light.”

Cyanide grabs the bottle of Devil’s Mark from my desk and guzzles some down. “Then I guess we better take as many Steel Slayers with us as we can on the way down.”

“Saints never surrender, and Outlaws never die, baby,” I mutter before draining my glass.

“Where are you goingnow?” Birdie asks. “You just got home.”

“Got shit to do,” I mutter, yanking a clean shirt over my head to avoid having to look my woman in the eye.

The pain from my shoulder wound as I lift my arm helps keep me focused. Birdie can read me as well as I can her, which is why I’ve been putting distance between us. I’m not usually a man who feels guilt, but this shit has been smothering the fuck out of me the last week. Tendrils of guilt wrap around me so tightly that breaking free is impossible.

Knowing I’m going to have to destroy Birdie so I can keep her safe is fucking with my already fucked-up head.

I’ve racked my brain repeatedly for another solution, but anything I come up with still leaves Birdie dead at my feet.

I’d rather she lives her life breathing and hating me than not breathing at all.

Birdie grabs my arm. “Goddammit, Apollonos. Fucking talk to me. This isn’t what we do.”

I pull my arm from her hold. “Ain’t got shit to talk about, but I do got shit to do.”

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