Page 15 of Death Warden
The youngest of us, Riley is like the little sister of the club. She and the other females of the group make up the northside patrol, and as the daughter of the road captain, she gets first look at all the patrol routes.
“You okay, Spec?” she asks.
“I’m good, Riley.”
“He had a run-in with Jasmine,” Curo says with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Riley’s gaze shoots up to meet mine. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her.”
“You know me better than that.”
She exhales in relief. “I for one will be happy once you all get mates. This groupie thing is getting old.”
“Like you and the other females don’t have your fun,” Curo says.
“Not at the club house we don’t.”
The assembly room is bursting with members. I spot Logan up front. His expression is serious, his dark eyes filled with secrets as they meet mine.
I’ve known Logan most of my life. Was raised alongside him. He’s like my brother, but he’s been distant lately and there’s only one reason for that.
He’s keeping a secret. Fuck, has Dax confided in him and not me or Curo?
Riley leaves us and winds her way over to Jessie and Toni, her road buddies. Toni stands beside Bobby, her mate of less than a year. They’re still in their honeymoon phase, evident by the way he has her tucked close to his body. I’m glad I don’t have quarters near them.
Jessie, hard-faced and take-no-shit, is Riley’s best friend, kinda like Curo is mine. She looks over, expression impassive when she meets my eyes, lip curling when her gaze hits Curo.
“She wants my cock,” Curo says.
“Watch it.” I keep my tone even.
“I know.”
Initiated club females are off limits unless a formal courtship is happening, or they’re mated. Females are respected, and even the groupies are well taken care of.
“Maybe Dax’ll announce he’s finally stepping down,” Curo whispers. “He’s been promising you the seat for months.”
I shake my head, gaze zeroing in on the far door as it opens to admit my adopted father and president of the club, Daxmonius Storm. Huge and hulking, with a vicious backhand, Dax leads with an iron fist and a warm heart.
He takes the stage now, his eyes searching the crowd until he finds me and locks gazes. I nod slightly and he nods back. The knot in my chest eases a little.
He’s been busy the last couple of days. Distant like Logan. I’ve been worried with no focus as to why.
“Grave Spirits,” Dax says. “I’ve been president of this club for almost three decades. Three wonderful decades. But it’s time for new blood to take the reins.”
Heads swivel to look my way but I keep my expression neutral, eyes ahead.
“As is our custom, the vice president takes the presidency unless contested by blood.”
“What?” Curo tenses beside me. “What’s he saying? He has no sons.”
But Dax is speaking again. “It’s recently come to my attention that I have a pup.” His throat bobs. “The handing over of the presidency will be postponed until such time as my blood arrives. My pup must be given the opportunity to contest the handover.”
The room breaks into a cacophony of sound.
I back away and out of the room, chest burning with betrayal and anger.
I need to shift and run.
