Page 147 of Seizing Control: Part One

Tattooed from his hips to his jaw, the brightly coloured ink covering my brother is his version of a shield. A butterfly in a leather jacket emerging from a cocoon wraps around his neck. It denotes his metamorphosis from bullied kid to biker. The exterior he presents is tougher than the interior, which is why the colour drains from his face when he takes in the gun I’m holding and the madness in my eyes. Disappointment flares in his usually carefully schooled expression, then he settles on a blank countenance that sets my teeth on edge.

“You gonna shoot me.”

“If I have to,’ I reply with complete honesty.

“Why?”

“Hunt.” I scrub my palm over my stubbly chin. “I dunno how to make it any clearer to you lot—I’m done. With the Shamrocks. With bein’ a biker. With arranged marriages. Figure shit out for yourselves, then let me know when I can leave.”

“What do you mean ‘can leave’... you’re not the victim here.”

My thumb cocks the hammer. “The club needs a president and a blood bond with the Trinity in order to continue on as allies. I’mma waitin’ for someone come up with a solution, then I’m gonna go huntin’.”

“Hunting?”

“For my wife.” My brother scowls. I pre-empt his next question before he can pose it. “She wants a divorce, and I’m happy to give her one. Then, I’m gonna take her somewhere, miles away from here, and wear her down until she agrees to marry me for real.”

In my drunken musings, I’ve only been able to come up with one way to keep Cherub for myself. I need to separate her from the Shamrocks. Remove her from the club’s orbit. Take her a long, long way away from Perth and the Australian underworld. Rebuild her faith in me. Get her pregnant with my child. Do everything I can to keep her under the radar.

New names. New identities. New life.

The phone call I received after the melee at the funeral home made it clear.

I’m running out of time.

My finger squeezes the trigger.

The bullet lodges in the wall to Hunter’s left.

“Get out.”

He hesitates.

I fire again.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Hands in the air, expression creased with equal parts anger and irritation, my brother edges backward. When he reaches the door, he glances behind himself, then knocks it open with his heel. From my position on the bed, I track his every move.

The cut that’s missing from his shoulders hangs over my chair.

Mine is haphazardly slung over it.

The end of the Hudson legacy weighs heavy on me.

“Hope you rethink your decision to leave... once I’m gone.”

“Unlikely,” Hunter sneers. “I’m not interested in belonging to a brotherhood that splinters under pressure. Would rather take my chances elsewhere.”

“Fine.” He steps over the threshold. I wave my handgun as I quip, “Was nice seein’ ya.”

“Can’t say the same.”

The door is slammed shut.

I tumble backward onto the mattress and cover my eyes with my arm again.

Stealing Venom’s life has come with challenges—expected and unexpected.

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