Page 107 of Banshee
“Jesus fuck! Patch, get the fuck over here,” King shouted as I searched the room for my brother.
I caught Morpheus looking at a man wearing a Golden Skulls’ cut, and I wondered what the connection was. He smirked at Morpheus and ducked out of the building. A moment later, I heard a bike roar to life.
Walking over to Eros, I asked, “Who was that?” cocking my head toward the door.
“Ravage. Morpheus’ son.”
I turned to look at the door again, knowing he was gone. Morpheus’ son. That would make him my cousin. My family. Family that didn’t appear to have any more love for Morpheus than my mother did.
Perhaps the man was really the asshole he was rumored to be.
I instructed my men to start removing bodies, when we heard a gurgling laugh. No one moved as a man wearing a Death Dog cut lay at Indigo’s feet. I’d recognized him from Disturbed. Indigo was notorious in his own right and once again, I wondered what secrets Eros and my father were keeping.
“You think you’ve won. You played right into his hand. The Death Dogs always get their man.”
King made a move, but Morpheus got to the fucker faster. Grabbing the fucker by the scruff of his dirty shirt, Morpheus sneered, “What man?”
The fucker coughed again, blood spewing from his mouth. “It was a trap. A way to get you all away, and you fell for it. Skinner knew you wouldn’t keep your end of the bargain. So he wanted me to pass along a message.” The fucker coughed again, his eyes slowly closing as he whispered his last words, “A life for a life.”
His words hung in the air; a silence engulfed the room moments before Morpheus’ face transformed. I now understood why so many men stayed clear of the Brotherhood. Morpheus dropped the man on the floor. His eyes focused on King before moving to me. “He’s attacking the clubhouses!”
King roared across the room, “Zero! Burn the fucking bodies.”
“Heretic, go with him,” Morpheus ordered, then shouted, “Bastards, to your bikes!”
I lifted my hand in the air and swirled a finger around, letting my men know we were leaving. I didn’t feel the need to make a spectacle of myself. My men knew to look to me for direction. Words weren’t needed.
Banshee was quickly loaded into the van, still unconscious, as the rest of us ran to our bikes. The trip back to the SilverShadows’ clubhouse seemed to take half the time. None of us were concerned with our speed.
My sisters and my parents were at the clubhouse. King and I raced back, neither of us paying much attention to decorum and rules of two MCs riding together. This wasn’t a charity run or a typical ride out. This was a race to save our loved ones.
I just prayed we weren’t too late.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Banshee
I woke up in the back seat of the club’s SUV. The pounding in my head continued on as we bounced down the road toward the clubhouse.
“How are you feeling, brother?” Patch asked, turning around in the passenger seat while Johnny drove.
“Like I got shot and someone beat the shit out of me.”
“Good. That’s how you should feel.”
I carefully sat up in the seat and looked behind me.
“Where’s Kyllian?”
“Who?” Patch asked.
“The girl who was in there with me?”
“Oh, Firestride’s old lady. He took her home.”
Fuck!
“How far until we’re home?”
