Page 78 of Azrael

“Mazida has agreed to be mine,” he announced, the pride in his voice unmistakable.“She’s chosen to stay, not just under our protection, but as my woman.”

The roar that followed nearly shook the foundations of the clubhouse.Men surged forward, slapping Gator on the back, offering congratulations and crude jokes in equal measure.Bottles were raised, toasts shouted over the din.The celebration that had been building suddenly found its focal point, its reason to explode into something wilder and more joyous.

I hung back, watching as my brothers surrounded Gator.At sixty-six, he’d been a confirmed bachelor for as long as I’d known him.Women came and went in his life, but none had been granted old lady status.None had been important enough to announce to the club.Until Mazida.

“Did you know?”I asked Stripes, who remained beside me, watching the celebration with the same detached amusement.

“I suspected,” he replied.“The way he looked at her… man my age recognizes that look.”He tapped his chest.“It starts here, not lower.The kind that changes a man for good.”

I nodded, thinking about the transformation I’d witnessed in Gator over the past few days.When Mazida had first arrived, Gator had been just another brother offering security.But something had changed between them during those long watches, those tense days when Balal’s threat hung over all of us.

“She’s good for him,” I said, surprised to find I meant it.

“Da,” Stripes agreed.“And he for her.A woman like that, one who grew up knowing only control and fear, needs a man who understands strength is not about dominance.Much like her first love, I’m sure.”

Charming had made his way to Gator now, pulling him into a brief but fierce embrace before stepping back to speak.I couldn’t hear the words over the noise, but the respect in his posture told me all I needed to know.This wasn’t just a celebration of a brother finding his woman -- it was a celebration of everything the club stood for.Protection.Loyalty.Family.

The party shifted into a higher gear after that.More bottles appeared, music got louder, laughter became more raucous.The weight that had been pressing on all of us hadn’t just lifted -- it had been flung away, replaced by a collective sense of triumph.

I pushed away from the wall, deciding to offer my own congratulations to Gator.As I made my way across the room, I noticed the men had broken into smaller clusters, their body language relaxed but energized.In one corner, three brothers were animatedly discussing plans for expanded security at the compound gates.Near the pool table, another group speculated about the fallout in Tel Aviv from Balal’s death.Everywhere, beneath the celebration, was the unspoken acknowledgment: we had faced a threat and eliminated it, together.

Gator spotted me approaching and broke away from the group surrounding him.

“About time you stopped lurking in the shadows,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me grateful for the solid muscle there.

“Just enjoying the show,” I replied.“Congratulations, brother.Didn’t think anyone would ever pin your ass down.”

Gator’s laugh was genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners.“Neither did I.But Mazida…” He shook his head, suddenly at a loss for words.

“She’s something special,” I finished for him.

“That she is.”I’d never heard softness in his voice like that before.“Know what she said when I asked her?Said she’d never thought she’d want to settle down again, that she’d thought Carter was her one and only.Said I made her believe she deserved better than gathering dust like an unwanted toy.”

I nodded, understanding the significance.“She’s right.”

“Damn straight she is,” Gator agreed.“You know, when it came to ending Balal, I heard you were particularly creative with the knife.”

I shrugged, not bothering to deny it.“Man threatens one of ours, he gets what’s coming.”

“One of ours,” Gator repeated, satisfaction evident in his tone.“That’s exactly what she is now.”

More brothers approached then, pulling Gator back into the celebration.I drifted toward the bar, grabbed another beer, and found myself beside Charming, who was watching the proceedings with the satisfied air of a man seeing his family thrive.

“Good night for the club,” he remarked without looking at me.

“Been a while since we had one,” I agreed.

Charming nodded.“We needed this.Not just Balal’s death, but this.”He gestured toward Gator, now laughing in the midst of a circle of brothers.

Around us, the party continued to gain momentum.Men who had been tense and vigilant for weeks were now loose-limbed and loud, their relief manifesting in increasingly boisterous celebration.The scent of leather and cigarettes hung heavy in the air, punctuated by the sharp tang of spilled beer and whiskey.

In the corner, someone had pulled out a deck of cards, starting an impromptu poker game that was generating good-natured cursing and laughter.Nearest the door, a group had gathered around Stripes as he regaled them with stories from his past, his Russian accent becoming more pronounced with each drink.

I absorbed it all, feeling a fierce pride in these men, in what we’d built and what we’d defended.The Devil’s Boneyard wasn’t just a club -- it was a brotherhood forged in fire and blood, strengthened by each challenge we overcame together.

“You know,” Charming said thoughtfully, interrupting my thoughts, “this thing with Gator and Mazida -- it’s more than just a man finding his woman.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

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