Page 125 of Protector

Angel stepped inside while Wolverine remained where he was. “They’re my girls… now and forever.”

Wolverine nodded somberly. “We’re ridin’. Been a few years since I laid eyes on ‘em, but they’re just as much family as my jackass sons. Someone crosses them, they’ve crossed me.”

Sliding open my desk drawer, I retrieved a cigar and lit the end, fighting the urge to run and bury my face in a mountain of blow. I knew I needed a clear head, but I also needed the feeling of invincibility that I’d only ever found in drugs.

This was the last of the men who’d hurt my wife. I’d given Celia the other two. This one was all mine. Ending him wouldn’t stop the war with the Sons, but it would end the one I’d battled for sixteen years.

“Jamie,” Wolverine said as he moved in front of me, planting his fists against the wooden desk. “We’ll finish it like we started it. Together.”

His words calmed the cravings better than the cigar, and I pushed my shoulders back with a firm nod. “Let’s do it, old man. Let’s send those motherfuckin’ snakes to the Reaper for the last time.”

I spent the majority of the ride up past Amarillo trying to account for any obstacles that could be used against us by the Serpents and strategizing ways we’d be able to beat them.

Jarvis slipped out in front and led us within blocks of their hideout. “Nomads moved out an hour ago and formed a perimeter. Nobody’s come in or out.”

I checked and re-checked my gun as we moved. The building was silent as we approached, and I glanced over at Comedian. “This seem strange to you?”

He nodded. “Not a fuckin’ prospect in sight.”

“Could be a trap,” Bear added, warily watching the grimy windows for signs of life.

My muscles tightened in readiness, even with all the variables in play. The monster in me craved a good fight, but I didn’t like ambushes; didn’t like not knowing what I was walking into.

“Nomads are sure they’re here?” I asked Jarvis.

He checked his phone and nodded. “We’ve got a sniper nearby that is confirming no one has exited the building.”

“But did anyone even fuckin’ go in?” Wolverine snapped. “Place looks like a goddamn ghost town.”

We moved around the building, but Wolverine was right, it was as if we were in the wrong place. “Check again, Jarvis,” I demanded.

“Grey, they’re here. If you wanna wait ‘em out…”

“No. We’re endin’ it tonight.” I raised my hand up. “Move in.”

My skin began to crawl, and I tightened my hold on my gun when I realized one of the doors near the back was sitting wide open.

None of this felt right.

Comedian moved toward it in a crouch before lowering his gun with a shake of his head. “Fuck!”

I quickly realized why. Serpents littered the ground, their bodies contorted in ways that shouldn’t have been physically possible. The scent of death hung heavy in the air, but there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere.

“It’s like motherfuckin’ Jonestown around here,” Crossbones noted as he picked up an empty shot glass.

Glass crunched under a boot, and we immediately turned; weapons raised.

“That’s right.” A man stepped into view, holding a blade to a Serpent’s throat. “You wanna drive out a nest of snakes, sometimes you have to go after the fuckin’ rats first. A little strychnine and all your problems are solved.”

We’d killed a lot of people over the years but had given most of them a fair chance at fighting back. Poisoning was a coward’s way of putting a man down; something best left to bored housewives looking to move on to their next husband.

Wolverine didn’t flinch. “You’re wearin’ the kutte of a prospect. You turned on your own brothers?”

He shrugged and moved close enough for me to see the patches on his hostage’s kutte.

Cobra.

I didn’t give a fuck if he put a million Serpents down, but that one was mine.

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