Page 98 of 12 Months of Mayhem

And if he failed, we all failed.

The waitress sauntered over, balancing a tray of coffee mugs, and Rune gestured for me to join them. “Come on, let’s chat.” I waved my men over, and soon the two chapters were sitting shoulder to shoulder, tables pushed together, conversation flowing like we’d been riding as one unit for years.

Rune’s old lady, Fallon, stepped away so we could sit at the head of the table together, making sure we looked just like two brothers catching up, and not two men discussing my leader’s downfall. “Dime’s out of control, Lock. Clubs are wondering if it’s time to shut Tucson down and cut their losses.”

My chest tightened, anger and disbelief warring inside me. Shut Tucson down? The club my old man had poured his blood and soul into? The legacy my family had built from nothing? Over my dead body.

“That’s bullshit,” I growled, leaning in. “You know how much this club means. You think I’m gonna stand by and let them destroy everything we’ve worked for?”

Rune didn’t back down. “I know you, Lock. I know you’ll fight like hell to keep it alive. But Dime’s a problem you can’t ignore anymore. Hell, you’ve been ignoring it too long already.”

My jaw clenched so tight it ached. Rune wasn’t wrong, and that only made it worse. Dime had been spiraling since before Rune transferred out—so he’d seen it himself. His decisions were reckless, and his leadership questionable at best. I’d known it. We all had.

But the thought of Tucson—of my club—being stripped apart and scattered? That was a line I couldn’t let anyone cross.

“I’ll speak with some of the presidents this week,” I said finally, my voice cold and steady. “I’ll handle it.”

Rune studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I hope you do, brother. Because if you don’t, someone else will.”

The weight of his words sat heavily on my shoulders, even as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. I forced a smile, trading stories and jabs with Rune like we were kids again, but my mind was already miles down the road.

My mind was planning, looking toward a future where I would have to possibly betray one of my own to save everything I fucking hold dear. And if I didn’t go about it the right way, with the right people involved—there was a chance that I was going to be the one going down.

The hum of voices in the diner and the clinking of silverware faded into the background as we finished our food. The boys were getting antsy, ready to hit the road again and get this run over with. I pushed my plate aside, stretching my legs as I watched the crew gather near the door. Rune stood off to the side, eyes sharp and watchful, but even he had that flicker of doubt in his gaze.

I caught Quill’s eyes as he rushed over, his face tight with worry, a sheen of sweat already starting to bead at his temples. My brows pulled together as I took in his demeanor.

“Hey, Lock,” he said, voice low but urgent. “I left something back home. I know we ride together, but it’s important—really important.”

I leaned forward, opening my mouth to tell him it was fine, that he could go and come back when he was ready. But before I could say a word, Dime was there, towering over us, his presence thick and suffocating.

“Quill,” Dime said, his voice cold, cutting through the noise of the diner like a blade. “We ride as a pack. You leave now, don’t come back.”

The air around us shifted, like a storm whipping at our skin, building. Quill’s eyes darted to mine, pleading for an out, a lifeline. But I could see how Dime’s jaw clenched, and his fingers twitched at his side. This was more than just a show of power—it was an ultimatum.

I straightened up, my blood boiling under my skin. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. Not for us, not now. Quill was one of my boys, and if he needed to go, he damn well should be able to go.

“Dime,” I said, my voice low, a warning. But Dime didn’t take it. His eyes locked with mine, full of fire and challenge.

“You hear me, Quill? We ride together, or you don’t ride at all,” Dime said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Quill’s hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms tense and shaking. He didn’t want to make a scene, I could tell. But he didn’t want to stay, either. The weight of his choice hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

I wanted to say fuck it. To tell the kid to go and ignore his president’s orders, but people were watching. Not just my club but another, and if I was seen disrespecting my president in front of the world, the consequences for me could be huge.

“Quill, is it something you can buy or get when we arrive in Kingston?” I asked, holding Dime’s gaze, letting him know this wasn’t me backing down, but instead trying to find an alternative to his absolute bullshit.

Because that’s what a president should fucking do.

“Um, yeah, maybe,” Quill stammered, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, good,” I told him, patting him on the back. “The moment we roll into town, you go and get what you need.”

Dime continued staring me down, clearly unhappy with letting Quill off.

But what the fuck was he going to do?

Just like how I’d considered my options and how I’d look in front of all these men, he had to do the same.

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