Page 53 of War

“Keeping you from getting all your brothers killed,” Callan informs him, his posture ramrod straight, his tone ice cold.If I didn’t know him, I’d piss my pants under his wrath if it bored down on me.

“Don’t be stubborn, Carver.If Tyler gave a shit about you, he would come out here himself.”

“You don’t get to talk about our pres.You’re the traitor whore who started all this.”

Callan’s fingers flex.If Carver keeps throwing insults at me, a knife will be lodged in the center of his head any second.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I seethe, rage building.

“Carver.”My stomach dips as Bear’s voice carries from the club’s doorway.“What’s going on?”

“The Kings are looking for Ty.”

“Let them in.”Bear jerks his chin and turns to walk back inside.

“Fuck no,” Carver spits to the ground.

“Carver,” Bear warns, turning back around to face him.

“I’m VP, not you.”Carver squares his shoulders, turning threateningly toward Bear.A chill erupts up my spine.I have to force air into my lungs, my fingers curling around the metal poles of the gate.

Callan tugs my shoulder to move me behind him.

“You either open the gate or we come through it,” Callan cautions, drawing his focus back to us.

Turning his glare to Callan, Carver moves toward the gate, facing the Kings boldly.“I’m getting sick of you threatening us.”

“Then don’t make me.”

“You’re outnumbered and outgunned.Trust me,” I advise.“Do you want to die today?”

He contemplates my words, flitting his gaze to the army behind us, lifting his arm to see past the sun’s glare.“Fine, whatever.”Sauntering over to the control panel, he presses a button, and the gates open.

“Leave the bikes,” Callan calls out to his brothers before entering the Devils’ lair.

Carver disappears through the front door, and Callan grips my hand, leading me inside.Only Monster, Grease, and Cutter follow us.The tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating inside these walls.I’ve spent most of my life within this clubhouse.Now, it’s a stranger to me.

Bear is sitting at a table in the main room.Carver joins him, taking the second of the four chairs.There are a few lingering brothers, but nothing compared to the force Callan brought with him.

“Where is everyone?”I ask, walking up to Bear and resting a hand on his shoulder in greeting.Placing a hand over mine, he squeezes warmly before pushing it away.Dropping my arm to my side, I step back beside Callan, a phantom burn sparking where the Devil tattoo still colors my skin.

“Tyler’s in the wind,” Bear states.

“Since when?”Callan asks.

Carver taps his finger against the table, his knee bouncing.“Since we got a tip that your old man is still breathing after all.”

Ignoring Carver, Callan drags a chair out, dropping into it.He lets my hand go, and Cutter takes his place beside me.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t know Tyler was meeting with our pres the night he was shot.”

“We didn’t.There’s a lot of shit Tyler didn’t make us aware of.”Bear side-eyes Carver with gritted teeth.

“He’s the pres, he doesn’t need to.He was trying to form an alliance for the club’s growth,” Carver sneers.

“Do you know where he’s hiding?”

Carver runs his tongue over his teeth, tsking.“Your old man wanted that shipment for himself and attacked Tyler.”

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