Page 170 of Making Choices

The sound of the gavel against the base plate snaps me out of ennui. I wrap my fingers around Venom’s wrist to stop him from bringing it down a second time. My little brother frowns as he realises that I’m stopping him from addressing us all.

“Slash?” Venom enunciates my road name with a level of respect that I fear I no longer warrant. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, the floor’s yours.”

I sit up straight. “Isaiah’s one of us…” Every head is inclined as I trail off questioningly. “But he’s also not.” This statement makes them all jerk like I’ve punched them. Holding up a hand, I caution them to remain silent while I explain. “He’s a First Nations man and a biker. That’s not exactly a combination that sits easy with some of our allies. I’m sure you’ve all seen it yourself, probably more than once—like I have. They overlook him. Dismiss him. Treat ’im like an interloper.” A grumble of agreement starts to develop as I explain where I’m coming from. “His patchin’ in not only gets us one step closer to the numbers we need to take down Brutus and his rats permanently, Isaiah’s patchin’ in also takes us one step closer toward fulfillin’ the vision set down by our founding six. They wanted true acceptance. A real brotherhood. One where the colour of our skin meant nothin’ ’cause we measure our brothers by the contents of their heart.” When I pause to drag in a ragged breath, I scan the room. There isn’t an iota of ambiguity to be found, so I forge on with my idea. “I propose the creation of a new position in the hierarchy—”

My speech is cut off when the double doors are pushed open and Cassius enters the chapel.

“Venom,” he addresses the man holding the gavel in a grave tone. “Brutus’s on his way here. He’s called for a sit down with you.” The wry chuckles of my brothers are cut off as he declares, “Alone.”

“Fuck that,” Toker interjects.

“With Cherub,” Cass continues. “He’s already contacted her, and she’s agreed. She’ll be here within the hour.”

“What the fuck?” The question on the tip of everyone’s tongue is verbalised by Cub. He looks at me, then he scans Venom’s face. His gaze flits between the scratches on our VP’s neck and his split lip. “I heard some chatter online about you two… you don’t think—you don’t think he knows?”

“What about us? I’ve stayed away from Lil…her… just like Brutus fuckin’ demanded.” The corners of my mouth twitch when I realise that he’s back to avoiding Cherub’s name again. Fucking pussy. “We’ve done nothin’ wrong.

“This profile—” Cub rounds the table to show us his tablet. “—seems to think otherwise.”

One glance at the screen tells me that the All-seeing Skye Instagram account is stirring trouble again. I’ve been following the profile for weeks, ever since the night I lost my cool at the nightclub and the vision ended up online within half an hour, and I find the level of access the person behind it has to the Australian underworld concerning. While Venom was in Sydney, they’ve pushed a narrative that could’ve upset Cherub if she stumbled across it, yet the most worrying part of it all for me is their tendency to tiptoe the line between helping us and hindering us. More than once, I’ve been able to place a Maddison operative on our turf before they could do any damage thanks to Skye—only to have the same level of information spilled about my brothers when I’ve sent them to do reconnaissance on our behalf.

All-seeing Skye—whoever they may be—has a hard on for Hugh St. James, especially. Which would be good news if they didn’t target Venom, Nadia, and Sander almost as frequently.

It’s impossible to tell if they’re friend or foe.

It’s proven equally impossible for Cub to track them down.

Much to his annoyance.

“Why the fuck should I give a shit about some gossipy bitch on social media?”

Venom’s question goes unanswered as an icon in the corner of the screen flickers and Cub pulls the tablet away to touch it. His fingers move fast, then he scowls.

“Brutus is almost here. We should all clear out.”

As quickly as we can, we troop out into the main bar.

Cub monitors the situation while the rest of us allow the old ladies to boss us around to maintain the ruse that our faction is complying with our dirty president’s demands for unity.

“Meet me in the chapel, Venom,” Brutus demands after he strides into the clubhouse. He surveys the party preparations with a toothy grin. “Seems like we’ll have more than one thing to celebrate tonight.”

When Hunter looks like he’s going to ask Brutus to elaborate, I catch hold of his arm and drag him behind me. In silence, we watch Venom head for the chapel alone while Brutus moves deeper into the building with his ever-present posse on his heels.

“We’re close to endin’ him,” I warn my little brother. “Don’t need you alertin’ him to that fact.”

“Was only gonna tell him that he’s got toilet paper stuck on his boot,” Hunter quips with genuine innocence. I whirl around to check Brutus’ retreating form, then I find myself laughing hard when I discover that my rat-fucked president does indeed have a stream of white toilet paper trailing behind him. “Seemed like the brotherly thing to do.”

Hunter’s deadpan response makes me double over with mirth.

“Didn’t he ride here?” I ask when the thought hits.

“Nope.” Hunter pops the end of the word. “He arrived in a blacked-out SUV.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I exclaim. Moving toward the exit, I pull my handgun out of my shoulder holster. “He’s not even botherin’ to hide his ties to the—”

“I swear, I’m going to murder him,” Cherub declares as she stomps inside. Quickly stowing my weapon, I school the frustration I’m feeling into a pleasant expression when she turns her attention to me. “Do you have any idea why my father has summoned me?”

“Nah,” I tell her as we exchange a quick hug hello. “Just know he’s demanded a meetin’ with you and Venom in the chapel.”

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