Page 127 of Seizing Control: Part One

“Fuck…”

Toker chucks me under the chin. “Watch ya mouth, lil cuz.”

My laughter is choked.

An empty sound to match the emptiness in my chest.

After locking away the feelings trying to ambush me at the sight of a reminder of better times, I straighten my shoulders. I shoo Toker over to his own bike, then I cock my leg over Zeke’s. The ape hangers have been adjusted to my height, and Toker has changed out the seat my first love prefers for one with more padding.

I hit the ignition switch.

The beast between my legs rumbles to life.

As the thunder from the engine drowns out every bad thought that’s trying to hunt me, I take a second to close my eyes and enjoy the noise. When my cousin’s Harley flares to life, I kick up the stand and knock the bike into gear.

Toker revs.

I match him.

Then we ride out of Slash’s house and into the mid-week traffic toward the funeral home where they tell me Zeke’s body rests. The entire journey I whisper prayer after prayer that I’m right and they’re all wrong.

But I’d be lying if I said the doubts weren’t starting to set in.

He’s been gone for so long.

And so has Slash.

It doesn’t make sense.

When we pull into the empty parking lot that’s been reserved for the mourners who’ll be escorting the casket to the cemetery, I’m surprised to see a blacked-out Shamrocks van is already parked near the back door. I’m even more surprised when Hunter climbs out with all of my brothers and Cub close behind him. My psyche does it’s best to hold on to my denial as I dismount Zeke’s bike and approach them.

After we hug, I pull Hunter to one side.

“Where’s your cut?” I ask him. “Surely you’ve changed your mind by now?”

“Told you—” The tattooed boy juts his chin. “—I left the club.”

“Bullshit.”

He refuses to argue with me, instead he looks past me to Toker. “It’s time. This shoulda been done two weeks ago.”

“I know,” my cousin concedes.

“What should’ve been done?”

Instead of answering my question, they use their bodies to shepherd me into the van. Force me to take a seat. Once I’m sandwiched in the middle row between my twin and my cousin, Cub slides into the seat in front of us and turns his laptop so I can see the screen. Hunter waits by the door like a sentry while Wyatt and Nate walk away with tears in their eyes.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Just watch,” Toker tells me.

I glance at the screen.

It takes me a second to understand what I’m witnessing.

But when I comprehend that it’s Zeke on his knees, my dad and Hugh St. James leering over him, the sorrow I’ve been keeping at bay since Wyatt announced Zeke’s death trails down my cheeks.

As the truth is revealed, the tears pick up pace.

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