Page 126 of Mace

“Fuck, don’t even joke about that.”

I find myself smiling too. I never thought my life could be this complete, but Mace has changed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. I’m not even sure he understands what he has done. What I do know is that for the first time in my life, I have a future, and that future starts now.

EPILOGUE

MACE

THREE WEEKS LATER…

The cold bites my skin,settling into my bones, but it’s not the reason I shiver. I slide my gaze towards Nicky as he pulls a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing. The smell of tobacco is as thick in the air as the tension, and although he ain’t said a word, I know what he’s thinking.

“You don’t want the patch?” Ravage’s voice rumbles through the semi-darkness, also reading my best friend like an open book.

Headlights from the traffic below the bridge we’re standing on illuminate us briefly before we’re plunged into almost darkness again, and I’m glad it’s hiding the look on my face.

The silence lingers as Ravage waits for his answer. As the London chapter and National President, he’s top dog in our club, so this shit coming directly from him ain’t a game. He means every word he’s saying, and although I thought Nicky would be the obvious choice to take over,the reality is this is a dangerous roll of the dice. One wrong move, me and Nicky are eating dirt for eternity. When it was just the two of us, it didn’t matter, but I have a family now. Maylie’s pregnancy washes away all that recklessness that beat inside me. I won’t leave my old lady and my kid alone.

But I also want my world to be a safe place for them. Shit is out of control in our chapter, has been for a while, and the clock has finished counting down. Rav has clearly reached the end of his short rope, and he ain’t the only one. I’ve questioned pretty much every decision Crank has made in the name of the patch—Nicky and Nate have too—but this ain’t without risk.

As if he senses my thoughts, London’s VP, Nox, shifts on his feet. The way his attention darts around the deserted lane makes me wonder if he’s expecting trouble. The overpass we’re gathered on runs between two small villages, and even during the day, I can’t imagine traffic is busy along this stretch. The only sign of civilisation is the motorway traffic flying along the road beneath us.

“Ain’t a case of wanting it,” Nicky says finally, the ember on the end of his cigarette casting a glow over his face for a moment. “It’s about doing what’s right for the chapter… and the club.”

Ravage tilts his head slightly. His huge beard makes him look dangerous and wild, both of which he is. He’s more than earned his reputation over the years.

“You don’t think that’s a change in management?” Disbelief threads through Rav’s voice.

Nicky’s body is wired as he peers over the edge of the overpass railing. He’s wired and walking a tightrope. I see it in every line of his body.

“Crank can’t stay. We all know that,” Nicky mutters. “He’s more interested in pussy than fightin’ our enemies.”

Pussy like Chloe Winters.

“The Pioneers only got as far as they did because Crank stepped back and gave them free reign in Birmingham,” Howler says. “That made that cunt, Desmond Richardson, bold enough to move into my territory, Nicky. I lost people I fuckin’ care about. Trick lost his wife. The list of sins against that cowardly fuck is too long. He needs to pay.”

That’s an understatement. Crank has violated more bylaws than any other member in our entire club history, and yet he’s still sitting on his throne.

“And he will,” Ravage assures the Manchester President. “I give you my word. That prick’s days are numbered, but we have to do this carefully. Despite all the shit, that fucker still has support in Birmingham, and not just from our brothers.”

Crank might be a useless President, but the guy is fucking charming. Rav’s right when he says he has support outside the club. He’s created alliances and formed relationships with a lot of Birmingham’s criminal underbelly, and I don’t have the first clue why he didn’t call on that support when we were being smashed into the fucking ground by the Dudley Pioneers.

“I don’t care how it gets done,” Howler tells him, “as long as it does.”

“Is he still tellin’ you to take your colours off when you’re around the city?” Nox directs this question to Nicky.

“Not since Desmond Richardson bit it,” Nicky admits, his mouth curving into a sour grimace. “You have no ideahow hard it’s been to publicly defend that shit. It cut me every fuckin’ time I had to take my colours off my back to appease that coward.”

“I know, and I’m grateful for the part you’ve played in all of this, Nicky. We couldn’t let Crank know we’re gunnin’ for him.”

Howler’s mouth curves downwards. “The fact he ordered it at all is a fuckin’ disgrace. We fought the Pioneers too and not once did it enter my mind to ask my boys to take their kuttes off.”

“He didn’t want to risk a direct strike from Richardson,” Nicky says to Howler.“It was better for him that Desmond’s head was turned your way.”

“And by doing that, he disrespected the club.” Ravage thumps his fist against the President patch on his chest.

“Crank ain’t a brave man,” Nox notes, “but he likes the power that comes with being President.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I came to you and Rav,” Nicky says. “Not so you’d give me his seat. I don’t want it.”

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