Page 50 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
Shit-licker fights, screaming through the tape.
“This is yours,” Styx nods at the money, “if you forget my sister exists.”
“She shot two brothers.” Psycho’s voice is raspy as if he’s swallowed glass on the regular.
Styx menacingly steps closer. All patch brothers from both sides stir, alert. “Your men touched her,” he emphasizes. “Put hands. On. My. Fucking. Sister! Forsaken blood. And she isn’t even connected to that fuck. How incompetent is your intel that you didn’t lock that?”
Black Feral rev their bikes, tension builds in the air.
Styx continues, unfazed. “I could send a river of blood leading to Silver Lakes for what your men did to my sister. Almost accomplished.” Styx is spiraling into that dark place. “I should cut all their dicks and feed it to them, piece by piece, with a spoon for daring to touch her,” he roars the last part.
Guns are drawn from Black Feral, then Forsaken Saints.
“Fuck.” I reach for the gun hooked in the back of my jeans.
“We keep our position,” Grayson demands.
“I can’t let him fuck this up,” I fight against Grayson’s hold, keeping me from going down the hill to get Styx’s head on straight.
“And walk in the middle, facing irrational assholes with their guns drawn? Think, West.” Gray shoves my chest.
“This is falling apart already.”
Grayson pulls a walkie out of his pocket and hands it to me. Confused, I take it.
“That’s a direct line to Styx’s earpiece.”
My brilliant brother. I’ll never tell him, but he’s a fucking ninja. I nod and face the scene below.
“Brother,” I say into the walkie. He doesn’t flinch or react. “I want my knuckles raw with their blood as much as you do. Don’t be reckless. You have people who love you. You may hate me right now, but I’ll always have your back. Just as you’ve had mine.”
Styx and Psycho stare each other down. The twitch in his right hand to reach for his gun is there, but he clenches that hand into a fist.
“We’ll make them pay,” I promise. “Another day. Another way.”
Three beats, and Styx gives a subtle nod before he looks around at the men from Black Feral.
“She doesn’t exist to you. Any of you,” Styx let’s his voice carry over the chaos of intimidating roars of bikes, yelling from brothers’ spitting threats across the road, and guns cocking at the ready.
He faces his opponent again. “We’ve let your business that’s violating territory oaths slide. You walk away with that cash on two conditions. We don’t hear, hell, we don’t smell any of you dirty cunts anywhere near Eden, and as far as you all know, my sister doesn’t exist.”
Psycho is a brick wall, arms crossed, his weapon resting at his hip. He’s cloaked in authority that has his feral bitches in check, even though they’re riled and desperate for blood.
“And two,” Styx turns and stares down Brian. “You leave Eden. You never contact her again. You don’t even think about her. And you can live. If I hear you sent so much as a text her way, I’ll encourage them to hunt your ass down and torture you for weeks before you bleed dry.”
Styx faces Psycho again and lowers his voice. This is only for their ears. No one hears what is said but us on the hill.
“A life for a life,” Styx growls. “You took three of ours. I don’t want to hear shit about retribution for the men she shot.”
Psycho stands like an undertaker, observant, exuding death. That broken vocal rasp is deep. “You know this isn’t over. He’s far from appeased with that.” Meaning the money.
“Our imminent war has nothing to do with this. We know what your Prez wants. This, not getting resolved tonight with you all riding the fuck away, won’t get him that. I want to slit your throat as much as you want to bite into mine. But politics requires us to lead.”
Psycho tips his head Brian’s way. “He’s caused us more headaches than the money he owes.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. He was just a pawn to get you all in our territory, stirring up war before its time.”
Nothing is said. Because Styx is right and Psycho knows it. Their upper hand failed.
