Page 77 of Azrael

The meeting began to break up naturally then, men drifting into smaller groups, conversations shifting from club business to personal matters.I moved toward the bar in the main room, suddenly craving something stronger than beer.

As I poured myself two fingers of whiskey, I felt a presence beside me.Gator reached for a bottle of bourbon, his expression more relaxed than I’d seen it in weeks.

“You good?”I asked, keeping my voice low.

He nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.“Better than good, brother.”

I understood.With Balal dead and his organization backing off, Mazida was truly free for the first time since she’d arrived in our world.And that meant Gator could finally move forward with what had been building between them.

“Glad to hear it,” I said, raising my glass in a silent toast.

Around us, the clubhouse hummed with renewed energy.Men who’d been wound tight for weeks were finally unwinding, the weight of constant vigilance lifting from their shoulders.Tomorrow we’d celebrate properly, but tonight, this moment of quiet satisfaction was enough.

I sipped my whiskey and watched my brothers, feeling a fierce pride surge through me.We’d faced a threat and eliminated it, protecting our own in the process.In our world, there was no greater victory.

Beer flowed freely now, glasses clinking and bottles hissing as caps were twisted off.I stood near the corner, rolling my shoulders to release the tension that had built there during the formal proceedings.Around me, my brothers laughed and cursed, their voices growing louder with each passing minute.The threat was gone.Balal was dead.For the first time in weeks, we could breathe without looking over our shoulders.

Charming had moved to a worn leather couch against the far wall, deep in conversation with two of our oldest members.The lines around his eyes had softened, the perpetual furrow between his brows smoothed out by relief and good bourbon.He caught my eye across the room and raised his glass in a silent salute.I nodded back, acknowledging what we both knew -- we’d dodged a bullet this time.

“Fuck, it feels good to be off high alert,” said a voice to my right.I turned to find Stripes beside me, nursing a glass of clear liquid that I knew wasn’t water.

“Been a while since anyone had a full night’s sleep,” I agreed, tipping my glass back and letting the last of the whiskey slide down my throat.

Stripes chuckled, the sound like gravel underfoot.“You know what they say.No rest for the wicked.And we are very wicked men, my friend.”

I couldn’t argue with that.The things Ripper had done to Balal before sending his body back to Tel Aviv would have turned a regular person’s stomach.I’d participated without hesitation, until Charming had pulled me back.My only regret being that we couldn’t make it last longer.The man had planned to force his own sister back into a life of servitude, had threatened our club, had broken our unspoken code.Death had been a mercy he hadn’t deserved.

The celebration was gaining momentum around us.Someone had cranked up the music, and classic rock battled with the growing volume of conversation.Two Prospects worked behind the bar, keeping glasses filled and collecting empties, eager to prove their worth even during a party.

I noticed Gator standing slightly apart, staring into his untouched whiskey.Unlike the rest of us, he seemed to be growing more tense rather than less as the night progressed.His jaw worked back and forth, a sure sign he was chewing on something in his mind.

“What’s going on with him?”I asked Stripes, nodding toward Gator.

Stripes’ face creased into a knowing smile.“Ah.I think our friend is gathering his courage.”

“For what?”

“Watch and see,” Stripes said, tapping the side of his nose.

As if he’d heard us, Gator suddenly downed his whiskey in one swallow and set the glass on the nearest flat surface.He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.Then, with a deliberate stride, he moved toward the center of the room.

The change in his bearing was subtle but impossible to miss if you knew what to look for.This was something I’d rarely seen in him before -- the man beneath the cut, stepping forward with something personal on the line.

He didn’t speak at first, just stood there, his presence gradually drawing attention.One by one, conversations died down as brothers noticed him standing there, waiting.Within a minute, the room had quieted enough that the only sounds were the low hum of the jukebox and the distant rumble of motorcycles on the highway outside.

“Got something to say, brother?”Charming asked, breaking the silence.

Gator nodded, his gaze scanning the room, taking in each face before he spoke.When he finally did, his voice was lower and more measured than usual, forcing everyone to lean in slightly to catch his words.

“You all know what we’ve been dealing with,” he began.“Balal Quadir and his threat to Mazida.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.Everyone knew.Everyone had played their part in ensuring her safety and Balal’s demise.

“What you might not know,” Gator continued, “is that I asked Mazida a question yesterday.Asked her what she wanted, now that she’s truly free.”

The room went completely silent then.I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the collective breath being held.It wasn’t often that a brother laid himself bare like this, showing vulnerability in front of the club.

Gator’s lips curved into the beginning of a smile, something so genuine it transformed his face.

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