Page 34 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

Red glances first at Crash who gives him a nod, leading me to guess they’ve already discussed their approach. He takes a breath. “Satan’s Devils and Crazy Wolves haven’t much crossed paths. They keep themselves to themselves. But learning they’re forcing women into prostitution, and in my town, is something that doesn’t settle easy with me.”

“Or any of us,” Crash reinforces.

“That’ll be one whole barrel full of bad apples,” Snatcher observes. “Crazy Wolves are a fuckin’ dirty club.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a chance to wipe them all out. Question is, are we going to take it?” Red raises an eyebrow.

Drummer raps the table with his fingers, and gives a sharp nod acknowledging what Red had just said. “To some extent, we might not have a choice. But in the event we’ve got options, Brothers, what’s the fuckin’ preference? Go in on a dedicated mission just to get Niran and his woman out. Make it clean and quick if we can with collateral damage only, or take out the officers and hope the rest of the club falls apart—”

“Or,” Swift interrupts. “We put down the whole damn nest of vipers.”

When Drummer’s eyes meet hers, he gives a smirk as if not used to being cut off mid-sentence, and is quite amused by it, then he raises his chin.

“You want twenty deaths or more on your conscience?” Demon lazily asks, seemingly more out of interest than actually raising an objection. “Some of the members could be persuaded there are better ways of life.”

“Will we have a choice?” Lost poses the question, which Drummer had just alluded to. “With their numbers, even a well-planned in-and-out operation is risky. I’d be happier if we discussed every scenario.”

“Plans A to Z?” Salem quips with a chuckle.

I smile myself. That’s our prez for you. Mind you, his attention to detail has saved our asses before.

Blade spins his knife on the table, the movement catching all our eyes. When he sees he’s got our attention, he stops the spinning action with the blade pointing at Swift. “You were in the SAS?”

“Not quite,” she confirms with a grimace. “But I qualified.”

“Went through all the training?” At this she raises her chin before dipping it again. “Hostage extraction from hostile territory?” She shrugs as if of course she has. “Then I’m happy if you give us your ideas.”

“You’re advocating putting Swift in charge?” Drummer challenges, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares at his enforcer.

Blade grins widely. “Kinda ironic a woman taking a bunch of misogynistic white supremacists out. I’d fuckin’ love to see their faces.”

His comment attracts a few snorts and more than one laugh.

Drummer exchanges meaningful glances with Red, Demon and Lost, then drums his fingers once more. “Okay, Brothers,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “In true Devils’ fashion, we thrash everything out. Plans A to fuckin’ Z if that’s what it takes.” He raises his chin to Lost, showing he approves of his approach. “Then once we’ve settled, Swift takes the lead and directs all resources on the ground.” He pauses to wipe a hand over his beard. “We need someone who can react and react fast, and someone who can multi-task, a virtue us poor males are said to be lacking. Anyone against?”

Again, there are snorts of amusement, but none of derision.

I grin, momentarily thinking of telling this story to any future grandkids I’m lucky enough to have. And that, kids, is how a woman came to lead the charge of the Satan’s Devils and take the Crazy Wolves out. And, of course, all to rescue a Black member.

Satan’s Devils have changed over the past few years and all for the better.

The next hour is spent going over how we might approach mission, free Niran and Saffie. I don’t think we end up with twenty-six plans, but we’re not far off of it. Swift’s on her toes, knocking ideas down if they have no merit, and sifting through those that have. Her experience and insight is fucking useful, and I doubt I’d be the only one to admit that. I’m also grateful that she’s on our side.

Finally, when we all have some semblance of what’s expected of us, we call it a night.

Drummer bangs the gavel. “Alright. That’s it for now. We leave first thing in the morning. Get some rest, Brothers. Fuck, drink, make merry or do what the hell you like.”

He doesn’t need to say it, but this might be the last night for some of us.

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