Page 81 of Thunder's Reckoning
My throat tightened. No kid oughta be carryin’ that.
Malik stared at the dirt like he could burn it up with his stare. “I think Sable’s gonna die too. Papa Gabrial’ll take her away for bein’ bad.”
That stabbed straight to someplace I kept locked up.
I let out a slow breath. “That ain’t gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at me then, and what I saw in them small brown eyes was an old man’s fear trapped in a boy’s body.
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know everything. But I do know this, Sable’s strong. Stronger’n most men I ever met. And she ain’t standin’ alone no more. She got me. She got the club. We don’t let our own walk out the door without a fight.”
His jaw shook, lips quiverin’ like he was tryin’ not to let the tears loose.
I nudged his shoulder. “You one of us now too, you hear? Nobody lays a hand on our family.”
He sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve, then leaned his small frame against my side without a sound.
I put my hand on his shoulder and watched the road beyond the lot. My head kept churnin’ over the things I couldn’t say out loud.
’Cause Malik was right about one thing.
Gabrial don’t forget.
And he sure as hell don’t forgive.
Only this time? He’s fixin’ to walk into a war he don’t rightly understand.
CHAPTER FORTY
GABRIAL
THE ROOMwas silent except for the slow drip of water in the corner.
The man knelt on the tile, wrists bound, shoulders hunched like he thought shrinking small enough would save him. Blood already streaked his jaw from the beating before. His shirt was torn, his breath ragged.
I let him stay quiet. Let him think silence might be his salvation.
I poured a glass of wine at the side table, slow and deliberate. The liquid bled dark against the crystal. Only when the room was still again did I speak.
“You walked into the bikers’ den,” I said evenly. “And you were seen.”
His head jerked up, eyes wide. “No—”
“Yes,” I cut in, voice calm, final. “You lingered too long. Drew their attention. Now their eyes are open.”
He shook his head, desperate. “I asked the questions just like you ordered. I kept it vague. They don’t know anything.”
“They know enough.”
I nodded once. The guard raised his pistol.
The man’s pleas cut off in a sharp crack of gunfire. His body collapsed forward, staining the tile darker.
I let the silence stretch. None of the others dared to move.
“Failure,” I said, setting the glass aside, “is weakness. And weakness spreads like rot. I do not tolerate infection in my house.”
