Page 69 of Seizing Control: Part One

“Venom kissed you when you were fifteen?” Toker asks with outrage widening his eyes.

“No.” Holding up a hand, I shush him when he goes to speak. “I kissed Zeke when I was fifteen, but he turned me down and told me to come see him when I was eighteen.”

My cousin resembles a stranded fish as his brain overheats and his ability to speak deserts him. I exchange a look of amusement with Gabbi, then we both burst into booming peals of laughter. Clutching each other’s hands, we hold tight and silently cement our newly formed bond while Toker loses his mind in front of us.

This small reprieve from the danger that stalks me turns out the be the last I’ll have for a long while—not that I know it at the time.

Not that any of us know it.

Except for the man treating us all like marionettes.

Gabriel Abaddon.

The Adjudicator.

11

SLASH

“Head toward the back,’ I tell Hunter. He nods once, then leads Cub and Wyatt down the side of the suburban house we’re ambushing in broad daylight. I beckon my faction forward with a flick of my fingers and a terse, “Follow me.”

Behind me, Isaiah sends the message down the line of Shamrocks we’ve brought with us to retrieve the president’s patch Brutus took off with during the showdown at the compound. The tip I received as we were leaving the parking lot of the Perth lockup was timely and a much-needed boost for morale. While my rise through the ranks has been accepted without comment—to my face anyhow—I’ll feel a lot better once the patch sits on my cut.

“You’re gettin’ my life—literally.” The accusation Venom levelled at me as we hashed out the finer details of Gabriel’s plan for my ex-best friend to fake his death pushes its way to the front of my mind.

“Not now,” I grumble to myself.

I need my head in the game, not side-tracked by my ex-best friend’s impending mistake.

“Whaddya mean?” Isaiah asks. “Do we needa pull back?”

“No.” Angrily shaking myself, I try to break free of the guilt that’s stealing my focus. Taking back the president’s patch, finding out if Bebe’s pregnancy is my fault, and marrying my duchess later today are my only objectives. So, I steel myself, then hiss over my shoulder, “Be ready—I’m kickin’ down the damn door.”

The rage that’s been pulsing through me since Venom agreed to Gabriel’s deal to become his eventual successor as the Adjudicator comes in handy as I move back a step and throw my entire weight into booting the front door open. At the sound of the wood splintering, shouts and frantic footsteps fill the air. Gun leading the way, I check the first room. When I discover it’s empty, I wave Isaiah and his team into the house.

“You’re prez now,” the serious man chides me. “We’re supposed to break down the doors for you.”

“Head for the back door.” I ignore his pointed look and continue on acting as the SAA instead of the heir apparent to Brutus’ vacated throne. “We’ll trap them in the kitchen like Cub suggested.”

Having the redheaded nerd on our team is always a bonus. He’s able to crack the schematics of every place we want to get into. The Shamrocks secret weapon. It took a lot of persuasion on Venom’s behalf to get the old timers to green light a new patched position, but I don’t think any one of them would regret giving in to his vision for the future of the club.

And here comes the guilt again... infecting me despite my decision to go after what I want for once. It’s bullshit. I’m not a bad person for wanting Cherub. I’m just as capable of leading the Shamrocks as he is. I’m probably more suited to it since I’m less inclined toward bursts of violence. I’m less volatile. Steadfast where he is headstrong. A thinking man in comparison to his more “follow his gut” inclinations. Yet, as we circle the rats that Brutus turned within the club, I find myself unleashing the side of me that rarely sees daylight.

“Fucking pissant,” I snarl in the face of an old timer I never suspected of being on the wrong side until he went missing yesterday. Snatching a handful of his sparse hair, I hold his head still while I drive my fist into his face until he’s unconscious. “Goddamn rat. Thank fuck the time has come for an extermination.”

We corral the men we thought of as brothers, dragging the bodies of those who are unable to walk with us, until they’re all trapped in the pokey kitchen. Since Toker is off with my duchess, taking on the role of her guard while she spends time with her injured brother, Wyatt is acting as our sniper. Without being told, the boy with the shiny new prospect patch situates himself at the only exit, rifle poised to take out anyone who tries to run, while Hunter and Isaiah make quick work of dragging the first defector over to the kitchen table. They lay him across the flat, pitted surface and pin his arms above his head while Cub secures his feet with a set of manacles.

“Fucking Brutus is nowhere to be seen,” my Tech officer informs me when he steps away from the restrained man. “He left his cut, though...”

I catch the cut with the president’s patch when he tosses it at me.

Apart from Brutus’ name patch, every other patch remains.

The My Brother’s Keeper patch.

The Founding Six patch he inherited from his father.

The One-Percent patch announcing us as outlaws.

---