Page 110 of Sinner's Fury

“And he will die a Sinner.”

“Fine, then I’m keeping Fury!”

Ignoring Reaper, Montana continued to read the papers when he stiffened. “Maxwell, how the hell do they know we’ve declared war on the table? We only made that decision two days ago.”

Frowning, Reaper sat up. “The fuck you say?”

Sliding the papers toward him, Montana glared at me. “Who the hell sent you these papers, King? Because I fucking know it wasn’t the damn table.”

“Never said the table ordered this summit.”

Both men stiffened, sat up straighter, and glared menacingly at me.

I fucking knew this damn summit was a bad idea. I should have told them no. Not that they really gave me a chance, but still, I wasn’t in their sphere. They should have asked someone else, someone with more clout who could instill the fear of God into these two hotheads. I got why they asked me, but Jesus fuck, these two men were going to kill me because I was the messenger!

“Montana, there’s more. They know what you did in Oklahoma with the Diamondbacks. They are demanding restitution.”

“They can suck my dick, ’cause that’s never gonna happen,” Montana snarked, ripping the papers out of Reaper’s hands. Pointing at something on the papers, he leaned toward Reaper and added, “Look at this shit. They also want a face-to-face meeting with your wife.”

Reaper threw his head back and laughed. “They can get fucked.”

“Don’t fucking care who called this fucking summit. I’m not doing shit.” Balling up the papers, Montana threw them over his shoulder, grabbed a bottle of Hell’s Breath, twisted off the cap, and chugged it.

“Me either,” Reaper growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Max,” a firm gruff voice snarled from deep in the shadows.

I watched Reaper stiffen, sit up straighter and slowly look around.

“Same goes for you, mouth,” another voice seethed as Montana slowly lowered the bottle from his lips and gently placed it on the table, his eyes wide as he dared not move.

“Would you look at that? They do know how to shut up.” Someone chuckled as I leaned back in my seat and continued.

“Like I was saying, I was personally asked to hold this summit, because this petty war between the two of you has gone on long enough. I’m sorry if you were both brought here under false pretenses, but this shit has gotten out of control. Instead of fighting the enemy, your hatred for each other has spilled over into other clubs and is now causing a problem within the Biker Federation. So, the both of you are staying here until you work your shit out.”

“And if we don’t?” Reaper gulped, scanning the room.

“Then I will,” the firm gruff voice said. “Told you before, Max, nothing was ever what it seemed. Told you to look with better eyes.”

“I did.”

“No, Son, you didn’t.” A tall, robust older man with a weathered face and icy-blue eyes, almost identical to Reaper’s, walked out of the shadows, making himself known, along with several other faces long thought to be dead. “Because if you had, you would have seen us coming.”

The End

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