Page 4 of Blade

My stomach wretches, my sobs still consuming me, my screams between gagging getting louder, and all I can think is how much I want to die.

Chapter 1

Blade – Twenty-Eight Years Old

“Blade, I swear to fucking god, you need to handle your mother before someone puts a bullet in her head,” Psycho snaps as he charges into the garage, slamming the door against the wall in the process. I raise a brow at him from where I’m lying underneath a 1950 Chevrolet Dulux that has seen better days.

Old man Trivers loves this car. He’s had it since the fifties, but at least three times a week, it’s in our garage with more problems. I swear it would be cheaper to buy a brand-new car than to keep this thing on the road, but I know it was the car he picked his wife up in for their first date and the car he brought his five children home from the hospital in.

He treasures it, and being my grandfather’s oldest friend before he passed, I promised to keep the car on the road for him.

I roll out from underneath the car and look up to see a furious Psycho, his cheeks red, his nostrils flaring while he squeezes his fisted hands by his side. I wince, knowing whatever Mama has done must be bad. His light brown eyes are dark with anger as he runs a tatted hand frustratedly through his light brown hair. I sigh as I stand before grabbing my rag and wiping my hands to get most of the grease off them.

“What did she do this time?” I ask, exasperated, not knowing how much longer we can put up with her antics before the brothers decide to cast a vote and ban her from the club.

Mama is a fucking menace, always has been but the more she pisses people off, the more I’m beginning to believe it’s intentional.

In her eyes, she’s still the top dog despite my taking over from Dad years ago. As far as she’s concerned, because I don’t have an old lady, she’s still the club's first lady. In her mind, she has the last word within the clubhouse. I’ll admit, at first, I went along with it, more for my dad’s sake, knowing she’d drive him insane. But the longer we allowed her to have free reign to boss the clubwhores around, to order the prospects with clubhouse chores, the more she’s gotten a big head. To be fair, Mama has always had a big head and believed she was untouchable, still does or so I thought anyhow, now though I’m not so sure.

Mama isn’t liked much among the brothers which I think she’s done on purpose. She’s continuously getting into their business and attempting to get into club business, fuck, I’ve lost count of the times she’s interrupted church, something my father never allowed her to do when he was in charge, but because she’s my mother, she expects more and the fact my VP looks ready to explode, I have had enough.

Fuck it, I’m going to bring the vote up myself at this rate.

Psycho shakes his head, linking his fingers behind his head as he looks around the dark gray and black garage before we makeeye contact, and he admits, “She punched a Fury brother in the nose at the coffee shop today after he accidentally bumped into her. She made him bleed.”

My mouth parts in shock. Fuck’s sake.

The Furies and the Dark Angels aren’t enemies, but we aren’t close either. They keep to their town, three towns over, and we keep to ours. We don’t poach on their territory, and they don’t poach on ours, that was the deal.

War was on the horizon when my grandfather was at the helm many years ago. He fucked their then pres’ old lady and impregnated her. The then pres was pissed and rightly so but Grandfather didn’t give a shit, just like he didn’t give a shit when he fucked several women after my grandmother moved in with him, giving birth to my father.

For years, businesses on both sides were attacked, men lost their lives, traitors trying to get intel on either club were tortured, and it took a toll on my grandmother. She killed herself when my father was ten, not able to put up with my grandfather’s activities or the consent wars.

My dad found her hung in the shed outside, and it took her to killing herself for both clubs to call a truce.

A promise was made to stay outta each other’s way, and so far, that has stuck, so why in the fuck has Mama hit one of their brothers?

“Is she trying to start up the old fucking war again?” I growl, angry at her for doing this, knowing I’m going to have to try and calm shit down before they retaliate.

Psycho shakes his head and growls, “She saw Skylar on the opposite side of the street and went crazy. She didn’t care that he was a Fury member and even went as far as keying the brother’s bike, and it took five of their own to hold him back from strangling your mother.”

I drop my head as I place my hands on my hips.

Fuck’s sake…

Skylar Burton, twenty-two years old, black hair and dark blue eyes. My little sister who wants fuck all to do with me, my dad and the club.

I was four when Dad caught Mama fucking a prospect. He hadn’t touched a clubwhore, hadn’t fucked a hang around, or even had a mistress. When he met Mama, despite how fucking crazy she was and far up her own ass, he fell for her and didn’t want to hurt her in any way. At the time, he loved how fierce and independent she was, and she used his love against him during my childhood – or so the brothers explained over the years, something Mama never denied.

She thought she would get away with fucking around and apparently smirked when she saw Dad standing in the doorway to his room at the clubhouse while the then prospect was fucking her. Mama really underestimated what a heartbroken man would do, especially a man with my father’s background of violence.

He killed the prospect, a bullet to the head without even blinking apparently. Blood splattered on Mama, which she apparently screamed at, and then he fucked some woman he met at Dark Angels Girls, the strip club we own, and ensured Mama knew all about it, throwing it back in her face.

Four weeks later, Melissa Burton showed up at the club with a positive pregnancy test. Because my father still loved Mama and wanted to be with her despite her actions, he chucked a couple of thousands of dollars at Melissa’s feet. He told her to get rid of it, all while Mama was being held back from attacking a pregnant woman like it was Melissa’s fault. Even though Dad wouldn’t have strayed out of revenge if she’d just kept her legs closed.

Still doesn't make what Dad did right.

I grit my teeth and demand, “Did she see?” hoping and fucking praying she didn’t, but luck isn’t on my side as Psycho nods once,and I roar and spin around, booting the workbench, tools falling and clanging on the floor before I lean my palms against the metal and hang my head.

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