Page 41 of Seizing Control: Part One

Ask me if I care...

I passed the point of rationality yesterday when I was hit with the epiphany that knocked the foundation of my life sideways. My choice to deny my feelings for them in order to save the Shamrocks from a second internal battle doesn’t negate that reality. Dad doesn’t need any help from me to splinter the MC. He’s already made decent headway without my assistance.

There will be time to examine the wreckage of my soul after we’ve won the war.

Time to patch myself back together when they move on after my rejection sinks in.

Different but equal could work for some.

It won’t survive the hard-headed men I love.

I continue to labour the point, however, I can escape the certainty that they’ll demand I choose between them.

I’d rather set myself on fire that do that...

Steadfast in my resolve, I flick my disdain-filled gaze over Dad’s face. “Are you going to tell us anytime soon, or should I tell Gabriel that I’m going to be longer than expected because my dad is incapable of reaching the point?”

Although, my father has zero reaction to my sarcasm, Zeke recoils like I’ve pulled the pin on a grenade. His tone is brittle as he says, “Brutus... maybe we should talk first?”

Realising that Zeke’s scared that Dad’s going to broach the subject of the deal they made behind my back, I snort. “Why? I already know about the deal… what could be worse than that?”

My stomach drops when Dad smiles wide. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve had all day. Now I can get to the fun stuff without needin’ to backtrack through all the muck you two have tried to rake over the past year.”

Despite my growing apprehension, the brittle hold I have on my temper breaks. In a voice that’s hot with hatred, I snap, “We’re the muckrakers? You’re a fucking rat who sold out his own club… don’t get much muckier than that.”

“I hope you got your fill of each other on that balcony…” Dad continues without missing a beat. “Hope it was worth the price you’re about to pay for breakin’ our agreement.”

I jolt backward when Zeke slaps his palms down on the table and pushes to his feet. “That was months ago. We haven’t been near each other since.”

“Bullshit.”

It’s impossible to hide my fear as I rush to deny the unspoken accusation in my father’s retort. Eyes wide, gaze imploring, I protest, “Nothing happened last night either. We had an argument, and I went home. That’s it.”

“It’s true,” Zeke confirms with a sharp nod. “The scene in the bar is as far as it went.”

When Dad hits him with a knowing look, Zeke runs his fingers through his hair with obvious agitation. “The scratches on your neck and the bruise on your chin tells me different.”

“Dad,” I try again to reason with my crazy father. “I hit him. We didn’t do… that.”

“Last night was simply the final fuckin’ straw.” For a second time, Dad speaks over me. “I’ve been watchin’. So have my men. My gut said it was only a matter of time before you both betrayed me again… Isaiah’s loose lips around Sander just confirmed it.”

“Sander?” Confusion ripples through me as I remind my father that my twin is just as mad with him as I am. “He isn’t even speaking to you.”

“He is now.” Grinning, Dad hits the intercom button that Cub wired into the wall behind him. His voice is filled with glee as he commands, “Bring him in.”

The double doors behind Zeke swing open, and my Uncle Cass drags my brother inside the chapel. Contained with handcuffs that are superfluous since it’s clear Sander’s leg is broken and he’s been beaten into submission, I take one look at my twin and jump back to my feet.

“What the fuck?” Zeke shouts as he rushes after me toward Sander.

My uncle grimaces when my ex-fiancé rips my twin free of his grip. The look the two club brothers exchange is filled with both malice and regret, and I don’t know what to make of it. Uncle Cass isn’t a particular fan of my dad, and he’s never made a secret of that fact. Even so, I’ve only ever witnessed him stand up to Dad once, and that was when the Sydney chapter of the Shamrocks wanted to be demoted to a subsidiary club after Diablo’s wife and their son were killed during their turf war with the Mavericks of Mayhem. My father was loath to approve their request until my uncle rallied the rest of the mother chapter to vote in the affirmative with him.

I would’ve sworn on Sander’s life that Uncle Cass would remain neutral in this war like the rest of the old timers.

Yet here we are.

Sander is bleeding and on the cusp of passing out.

Battered and beaten, likely at the hands of our father and uncle.

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