Page 43 of Devil's Queen

“Yeah,” one of the old guard answers behind me.

I glare around the room, every eye watching my every move. They’ve seen this side of me before, the one that strikes fear into their hearts and is an unstoppable force.

“You want a guy like this in your club? One who would betray his oath and his colors for a personal vendetta.”

The room falls silent. Murph’s words carry weight, and I know deep down, every man in the room fears what I’m capable of in my rage. But it’s not just my own anger that they should fear—it’s the potential longevity of the club, the potential to lose everything we’ve worked for.

A wave of calm sweeps over me, and I holster my gun. Every pair of eyes is still locked on me, waiting for my decision.

“This club was built on loyalty, respect, and protecting what’s ours. We can’t afford to have members running off on tangents like this. It weakens us.”

Murph answers for them all. “We can’t execute every fucking person who makes a mistake, Rex. If we did, the club would have been gone a long fucking time ago.”

“Tell us why you did this,” Tex interjects. “Give us a reason why we should spare your life and not let Rex take his pound of flesh.”

“I wanted to make an example of her. To show her that she has what we are owed. I lost my temper, and in my anger, I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough,” I growl.

“We don’t kill our own without a fucking cause,” Coffey interjects. “Now, I’m not condoning what he did. I don’t think we should just let it slide, but we can’t kill everyone who makes a mistake.”

“If the lot of you are so hell-bent on not taking care of business, what do you suggest?” I ask.

“Take his patch and demote him to prospect. If he wants to be a part of this club, make him earn it again,” Coffey offers an alternative. It’s a shitty alternative that I don’t want to consider. Monte is a threat to our club, a rabid animal with blood lust in our ranks. We put rabid animals down. We don’t rehabilitate them.

“Can we do that?” Tex asks. “I’ve never heard of that happening before. Pike?” Tex turns to Pike, who has a contemplative look on his face.

“There’s no precedence for it, but nothing in our charter bylaws say it can’t be done either,” Pike answers. “It’s not the most conventional punishment, I’ll admit. Yet, if this quells Rex’s bloodlust and keeps the peace with the club, it’s worth considering.”

“I concur,” Murph adds. “Giving him a second chance won’t weaken us. It will only make us stronger.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s not how this works. If you betray the club, you’re dead or you’re out. There’s no middle ground.”

“He didn’t betray the club. He laid his hands on Rene’s daughter. She is nothing to this club,” one of the older members yells from the back of the crowd. “Unless you’re claiming her.”

I’d love to do just that, but she would never allow it. Rem was raised to be subservient and pliable, her father’s pawn to be used as he saw fit. Unfortunately for Rene, his daughter turned out to be just like him. Putting her back into that position is not something I want either.

“The fuck she isn’t,” I argue. “Let me make myself crystal clear. Some of you think it’s open season on Remington Laveau, and that ends now. You want to save this slimy son of a bitch? Monte’s patch and life are the price. Anyone who wears our patch will leave her and her family alone. That’s the only fucking way I will agree to this.”

“She has what’s ours!”

“By all means, disagree. It gives me what I want… Monte’s brains decorating the fucking floor.”

Monte glares at me, his face a mix of anger and shame.

Pike nods in agreement. “That sounds fair to me. If he wants to be a part of this club again, let him earn it.”

The idea of punishing rather than ending him sets my teeth on edge. Patch or no patch, air in his lungs makes him dangerous to us and Rem. Making a deal for his life is the last thing I want to do, but if it takes the target off Rem’s back and business, I’ll fucking do it until I can guarantee her safety permanently. The only upside to demoting him is it leaves Monte out of all our club decisions and meetings.

“Put it to a vote,” Coffey remarks. “Show of hands in favor of demotion?”

Most of the guys raise their hands, and I know I’ve lost.

“Do it,” I order. Tex and Coffey move toward him. Monte starts to squirm away, but they grab him from under his arms, dragging him back toward me. I pull out my pocketknife as they spin him, exposing the back of his cut for me. Putting the blade under the stitching, I rip our colors off his back and rockers.

“You’ll pay for this,” he hisses under his breath. Low enough that only Tex, Coffey, and I can hear him.

I lean forward, my lips inches from his ear.

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