Page 15 of Dash

DASH

Riot hates Blade.He hides it well, but I’ve known the guy since we were eighteen years old and I can read him. It’s nothing obvious he does, but the little sarcastic grenades he throws into the barely-there conversation mixed with the way his mouth pulls into tight lines is a tell.

I keep my lips pressed together, holding back a hundred things I wish I could say. Since finding out members of our club are moving against Crank, it feels as if my nerve endings are on fire.

Not because it’s happening. Crank and his leadership need to go, even if unseating a sitting president feels dirty. No, it’s the fact this was happening under my nose.

Riot, Mace, and Nicky have been working with our mother chapter in London and alongside our Manchester brothers to make shit right.

Not that it can ever be fixed. Crank’s indecision and poor management caused blood to spill in our club.

Even with support, this is dangerous ground we’re walking on. One wrong move and the entirety of the club implodes. Loyalties will be split. Brothers bleeding brothers.

And so, I listen to Blade’s bullshit, ignoring the urge to wrap my fingers around his scrawny fucking neck.

I know I should stay, keep up the illusion of being one big happy club family, but tonight, I’m struggling to hold the façade.

“I’m heading off,” I say, standing.

Riot does the same. “Yeah, me too.”

“Him, I understand,” Blade says. “He’s got warm, willing pussy to get home to?—”

That’s all he gets out before Riot has him by the front of his kutte, his eyes blazing.

I don’t intervene. This is justifiable. Blade disrespecting his old lady ain’t going to win him any favours.

“Talk about my woman like that again and I’ll rearrange your fucking face,” he growls.

I can see his reaction has surprised Blade. Everyone here sees Riot as the joker, the guy who never takes shit seriously, but if they knew him, they understand how deep his passion for people he cares about runs.

Besides, Ivy isn’t just ‘some girl’. She’s going to be his wife.

Blade holds his hands up. He doesn’t fight back, but the grin on his face makes me want to punch him. “I don’t mean any disrespect.”

Of course, he does. He wouldn’t have fucking said it if he didn’t.

Riot let him go with a shove. He shoots me a look before he storms off. Blade rearranges his kutte.

“Shit, I had no idea he was so fuckin’ sensitive these days.”

“See you tomorrow,” I mutter, following after Riot. There’s nothing I want to say to Blade, and I sure as fuck don’t want to explain to him the reasons why he just got a face full of pissed-off.

He isn’t stupid. He knows what he did.

When I step outside, Riot is at his bike. His helmet is in his hands, but even with his back to me I can tell by the tension radiating across his shoulders that he is hanging on by a thread.

I keep a little distance, just in case he decides to swing. “He only did that to get a reaction,” I tell him, something he probably already knows.

“Mission achieved,” he mutters. “I fuckin’ hate him.”

“I know, but you need to keep it together. You start throwing punches and it’s going to draw attention in the wrong way.”

He tears his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need you to tell me how to run this, Dash. I’ve been team takedown way longer than you have.”

I let him get his anger out. He needs it. “I know.”

He screws his face up, his fingers curling into fists at his side. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m scared what we’re doing is gonna blow back on Ivy and Seren.”

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