Page 59 of Riot

I watch as he walks over to the fence line, tension radiating from him. I don’t blame him for that. Every part of my body is alert and aware.

I stare at his back as he leans against the fence, looking out over the road beyond. The leather of his kutte is as worn as mine in places, but the patches arced over his back are clean, the white segments bright.

He takes care of his colours.

The realisation hits me in the gut. Even the worn parts of the leather are buffed. Dash has respect for what it means to be in this club, for what those patches on his back symbolise.

Hope swells within me, a fierce fire burning that perhaps we’re not as alone in this as we think.

His gaze tips towards the sky, which is a wash of grey. There’s not a patch of blue in sight, and the cold hints at rain. The gloom matches the mood between us.

“I can trust you, right?”

Those senses sing with warning. “With what?”

He glances down at his boots, his body radiating tension. Cold fear claws up my throat.

“I don’t even know if I should say anything. I don’t know who to—” He breaks off, his jaw flexing. “We came through this journey together. We’re friends, or I think we are, hope we are. And I don’t want to put this on you, but you’re the only person in this building I think will understand.”

I don’t breathe, but I keep my expression neutral. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m done,” he says, his eyes finding mine.

I frown at his words, at the absolute sincerity in his face. “Done with what?”

Dash waves an arm towards the clubhouse. “All of this. This shit isn’t what I signed up for, Riot, whatwesigned up for. I’m heading down to London over the weekend to speak to Ravage, and if he’ll let me, I’m transferring to one of the other chapters.”

I freeze. It doesn’t mean he’s on our side, that he stands against Crank, but the fact he wants to patch into another chapter because of him is a loud endorsement.

“So, you’re just gonna leave?” There’s more accusation in my tone than I would like. Maybe it’s the shock or the anger that we’re losing another brother because of that fucking dick.

Dash’s mouth is tight, his jaw too, as he tears his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to. There’s no part of me that wants to walk away, Riot. This is my fucking life, my home, my… my family.” His words are sad and heavy. “But I can’t keep watching this shit happen day after day. I thought things would get better after the Pioneers were done, but it’s getting worse. Crank and Grub… fuck… I don’t know how you fucking stand it.” He digs his hands into his pocket. The muscle in his throat bobs, and my own feels constricted. “Say something,” he urges.

There’s so much I want to spill, but I keep those words behind my teeth. “What do you want me to say, Dash?”

“That I’m a traitor. That I’m a disloyal bastard. That I’ve shit all over the patch.” He bangs a fist against his left pectoral. “Tell me you’re gonna spill this conversation to Crank.”

Not a chance, but I don’t say that. “My opinion ain’t worth shit.”

He tears his fingers through his hair as if he wants to rip the strands out by the roots. “It is to me. I feel sick even speaking this crap out loud, but I just can’t keep doing this, Riot. I would rather walk away than watch our chapter become…this.” He throws a hand out, his movements sharp and angry. “I understand why you would want to stay—you have your brotherhere, Nicky too—but I’m done. At least in Birmingham. I’d rather go fucking nomad than keep up this shitty pretence.”

My throat burns. He wouldn’t survive as a nomad. It ain’t a good path to walk for any brother. Hawk had done it for years after losing more than he could bear, but it took a toll on him that only lifted when he transferred into Manchester.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, and that’s not a lie.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m only telling you because I owe that respect to you as friends, as brothers.”

This is dangerous ground, not because his words are inflammatory or hard to hear, but because I want to tell him to hang in there. I can’t though. If he’s playing me, I could risk this entire operation and get me, Mace, and Nicky killed.

But if I let him go and we lose an ally on the inside…

Shit.

Indecision wars within me, a split-second decision trying to form as the weight of everything presses down on my shoulders. Do I trust Dash? Is he still the same guy who prospected with me? Who has stood at my back for years?

In a split second, I have to make this huge decision, and I opt to keep my mouth shut. This ain’t for me to decide. Who we let into our fold has to come from Rav.

“Things’ll get better,” I say, giving him as much as I can without compromising everything we’re working towards.

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