Page 12 of Devils Cut

As I approached my office, I could see Lisa standing at the door knocking.

“Lisa, what do you want?" I asked as I opened the door, barely hiding my irritation. She sat down in the chair across from my desk, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

"I want the morning shift, Corvus. The one you gave to the new girl," she spat, her tone accusatory.

I couldn't help but laugh at Lisa's demand. "No, that's Tempest's shift, Lisa. You've got the night shift on the back bar."

"Corvus, I've been asking for that shift for months now," she argued, glaring daggers at me. "But you gave it to the new girl? I want to be home with my kid."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her sudden maternal plea. "Trey's mom has the kid when you work. And if you're not here working at night, you're at the clubhouse whoring around. So why would I give you more time to whore when you need to be making money for your kid?"

The truth stung her like a slap across the face. She sat there, fuming, and I could see the anger boiling beneath her skin. But I didn't care. I was the boss after all.

"Fine," she spat, her voice venomous. "But don't expect me to just sit back and take this shit.”

"Watch your mouth, Lisa," I warned her, my tone dark and threatening. I had no patience for her defiance today.

The vein in Lisa's forehead pulsed, her anger barely contained. "Fuck you, Corvus," she spat as she stood up abruptly, knocking the chair back. "Didn't realize you now fuck 18-year-old trash!"

"Watch your mouth, Lisa," I growled, my hands clenching into fists. "You don't want me to ban you from the clubhouse, do you?"

"Ha!" she scoffed. "Trey would never let you."

"Listen closely, Lisa," I said, my voice dripping with menace. "Trey answers to me. You're not his old lady. I remember him saying he'd never give you his cut. Just 'cause he had a kid with you doesn't mean you're his old lady." I leaned in closer, smirking. "In fact, fucking every man with a dick at the clubhouse shows just how much you are not his old lady."

Her face crumpled, and she started to cry, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "Fuck you," she whispered hoarsely before turning and storming out of the office, leaving the door wide open behind her.

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Throwing my leg over my bike, I started the engine and rode off to the 4th Avenue jail where my pops was staying. The rumble beneath me was a familiar comfort as I sped down the highway, wind slapping my face like an angry lover. It was a necessary trip, one I made once a week without fail. Pops may have been locked up, but he had his ways of keeping tabs on everything that went on with the club.

He'd gotten four years for drug trafficking, and even from behind bars, the sneaky fucker always knew what was happening before I got there. It was a testament to the kind of man he was – loyal, fierce, and one step ahead of everyone else. He could've taken a step back from the club when he got busted, but instead, he held on tighter.

As I pulled up to the jail, the grey concrete building loomed over me like a tombstone. It was a stark reminder of the life we led and the risks we took. I parked my bike and headed inside, steeling myself for another visit with the man who taught me everything I knew.

"Hey Corvus," the guard at the entrance grunted. We'd become familiar during these weekly visits. "Your old man's waiting."

"Thanks," I muttered, making my way through the sterile hallways. I couldn't help but wonder how Pops managed to keep his spirits up in this hellhole. Maybe it was the knowledge that he still had control over his world outside these walls. Or maybe it was just stubborn pride.

I approached the check-in counter, the guard eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. He'd seen me enough times by now to recognise me, but that didn't mean he trusted me.

"Here for my pops," I said, sliding my cut, gun, and wallet across the counter as required. The guard took them without a word, placing them in a secure locker.

"Off you go," he grumbled, gesturing with his chin. I nodded my thanks and strode down the cold corridor, my boots clicking on the linoleum floor.

The visiting area was just as bleak as the rest of this hellhole—white walls, fluorescent lighting, and rows of glass windows separating prisoners from their families and friends. My pops sat at one of these windows, waiting for me.

"Hey Pops," I said, picking up the phone on my side of the window as he did the same. His voice rumbled through the line like thunder.

"Corvus, I hear you found yourself an old lady," he said, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. My brows furrowed, irritation bubbling up inside me.

"Who says that?" I shot back, wondering how the fuck he knew about Tempest. In here, he shouldn't have had access to that kind of intel. But then again, he always had his ways.

"Doesn't matter who says it, boy. What matters is if it's true." His tone was serious now, probing for information. "Didn't realize you like them so young," His tone shifted to amusement. I shook my head, rolling my eyes at the never-ending teasing I seemed to be subject to lately.

"Brothers are worse than the old ladies at bingo," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "No, Pops, I don't have an old lady. I'll let you know when I do."

"Wouldn't hurt for you to get one now, you're the VP for fuck's sake!" he exclaimed. "I want grand-babies. Plus, your mom asks me every damn day why she isn't a grandma yet." He paused, chuckling at some memory. "Why didn't we have more kids? At least they would give me grand-babies.” My pops said in a high voice to mimic my mom.

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