Page 41 of Taming the Demon

“No,” Cyrus said. “We’re a club. We’re a brotherhood. Doesn’t matter who does what. For the most part.”

Cyrus glanced at Darrow once again. Then he looked at Priest. Sorrow spread across Cyrus’s face.

“This son of a bitch better wake the fuck up soon,” Cyrus said. “I refuse to think about the direction of this charter without Priest around.”

Just like that Cyrus turned and stormed out of the hospital room. Darrow and Linc met eyes. They nodded at one another. They were the last two to exit the room. At the exact same time, they both made a fist and extended it to the other. Their faces still showing evidence of their fight, but a fist bump allowed time to keep moving forward.

Without moving forward, the entire club would be dead.

Cyrus worked himself deep into a bottle of whiskey. Three quarters of the way gone and he stood up from the bar and stumbled right back. It felt like the clubhouse fell into a black hole or something. Cyrus’s massive back smashed against the wall, denting the drywall, leaving two holes where the backs of his shoulders hit. Maggie debated sneaking the bottle of whiskeyoff the bar but knew better than to step in and get involved. Her best chance at helping Cyrus was to get Muffin involved.

In the kitchen, Muffin was already hard at work, cooking the biggest burger he could make, plus some freshly cut steak fries, knowing that was the easy part. The hard part would be getting Cyrus to actually eat the food and trade the whiskey for some beer. No chance at the outlaw president drinking water right now, so beer would be the lesser of the two evils.

“He’s losing it out there,” Maggie said.

“It happens, sugar,” Muffin said. “Hectic times around here. Just keep slinging those drinks, okay? You’re important to this whole thing, Maggie. Remember that.”

Muffin came out of the kitchen to find Cyrus at the bar again, holding the bottle of whiskey.

“Eat up,Prez,” Muffin said. “Get some food in your stomach.”

Cyrus chuckled and reached behind him and pulled out a gun.

“Whoa, Cyrus,” Muffin said.

“This isn’t for you, big guy,” Cyrus said. “Oh, no, not for you. I’ve got something else on my mind here tonight.”

Cyrus touched the gun to his own head. Muffin tensed, knowing just one drunk slip of a finger could really fuck things up around here…

Cyrus then looked at the gun. Blinking fast, drunker than he could remember in a very long time. He decided to make an announcement for everyone in the clubhouse to hear.

“Someone bring me Darrow right fucking now!”

Darrow heard the slurred words of the president. He looked right at Mara, who sat next to him. They were tucked away at a table in the corner of the clubhouse. Mara with a soda in front of her. Darrow had slipped her a flask of whiskey but Mara hadn’t taken a sip yet. Her stomach felt like one big, awkward knot.

The clubhouse never bothered her like this before. Everything felt tense, off and violent and felt ready to explode without notice. Her worries proved true when she saw Cyrus waving a gun around, looking for Darrow.

Darrow stood right up and whistled. “Right here,Prez. Talk to me.”

“No talking,” Cyrus said. He pointed the gun in the general direction of Darrow. “I’m done talking. My mind is thinking a lot. Oh, there’s a lot going on…”

Slade stepped into the frame and said something to Cyrus. Cyrus nodded and stumbled back a few steps.

“He’s going to want to talk to us, babe,” Darrow said to Mara. “This shit won’t end.”

“Why would it?” Mara asked. “We’re in a corner, not just literally either.”

“Stand up and play the part,” Darrow growled.

Mara climbed to her feet. Slade walked over to them, shaking his head.

“What the fuck is this now?” Darrow asked. “I love the guy and all but he’s losing his fucking mind.”

“Of course he is,” Slade said. “What do you think is going to happen here? Just give him what he wants.”

“He pointed a gun at him,” Mara said. “He didn’t say what he wanted.”

“He wants what he said before. Right before Damien showed up. He wants Mara to take a pregnancy test. On the spot. In front of him.”

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