Page 139 of Seizing Control: Part One

Shoving a beefy hand into the pocket inside his cut, Cassius pulls free a tattered piece of paper. “I’ve been trying to find the right words to say… I searched my bible for the best passages. For days, I’ve prayed for them to appear—for a way to soothe my grieving family. I couldn’t find anything to properly express our sorrow, our disbelief, and our anger that being part of the Black Shamrocks MC has come to this. The death of one of our own, in a war created by a man we considered our leader…”

When Cass trails off, Brutus fixes him with a warning look that his brother returns with one of his own. For a long moment, the twins say a million things with their eyes—a lifetime of resentment and betrayal surges to the surface. Occasions they shared. Sins they committed. Love they held. None of which the rest of us can understand for their bond is uniquely theirs.

It all comes to an end in the blink of an eye.

Cassius is the first to break their connection.

“I couldn’t find the words—” He beckons for Diablo to join him. “—but my son has proven more of a wordsmith than I am.”

As the man who we believed to be an unmarried chaplain until a few months ago publicly claims his son, and the rightful heir to the patch sewn onto my cut, the Shamrocks who didn’t already know the truth react with shock. They look at each other, trying to decipher who knew and who didn’t.

Micah Kennedy joins his father at the head of the coffin.

They exchange a hug.

I keep my attention on Brutus.

As his trump card is stolen from him, he becomes reckless.

Spinning around, he lunges for Wyatt—or more specifically, the rifle his son is holding. My brother springs out of nowhere to get between them. Brutus backhands Hunter. He punches his son in the mouth. The strike knocks the eighteen-year-old to his knees.

When Brutus turns the weapon on Hunter, I am already in action.

The leap I take over the casket is super-human.

It’s also too late.

Boom.

My brother drops to the ground.

A stampede of bikers pounce on Brutus as he stumbles to one side like a drunken sailor with a bad case of sea legs. The weapon Hades used to kill Joseph Kingsley—the same rifle Gabriel made disappear from evidence—falls to the ground. In the scuffle, the mechanism to lower Venom’s coffin is knocked off kilter and the heavy wooden box descends too fast. I realise that Brutus is bleeding from a bullet to the side at the same time as I see my dad wrestle a Glock out of my mother’s hands.

When the sound of rotor blades catches my attention, I tilt my head back to look at the sky. The helicopter that hovers overhead has an armed man dressed in black fatigues hanging out of the side. I scowl as I watch him, trying to work out what the fuck he’s up to and where the hell he came from. The gunman’s aim seems indiscriminate at first, following one biker after another without taking a shot.

As soon as it becomes clear to me that he’s intent on sighting up Everett, I grab hold of my brother-in-law and drag him between two burial vaults. The stubborn little shit tries to follow me back out into the fracas, but I stay him with a hard shove and a terse caution, “That eye in the sky is tryna take you out. Stay outta sight.”

A scream rips through the air.

Heartbreak and madness in each decibel.

I shove Everett one last time to make it clear he needs to heed my order.

Emerging from the shadows, my heart stops at the sight before me.

My wife is on her knees at the foot of Venom’s grave.

Hands tearing at her hair.

Wailing.

Toker reaches her a second before I do. He squats down next to his cousin and pulls her into his arms. His hand cradles the back of her head as he presses her face into the crook of his neck and rises back to his feet. The helicopter takes one last sweep of the area without firing on us, then it flies off toward the city outskirts.

As Toker carries Cherub away, I take a step to follow.

My stride falters as I realise what she saw.

The impact has popped open the casket lid.

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