Page 7 of Preacher

Beckett flinched like I’d purposefully wounded him. “How can you say that? She was my girl, and…”

“She was a sweet kid, son, and it’s a shame that happened to her. But she’s got no ties to this club.”

“She’s got ties to me! That’s gotta mean something!”

His voice cracked, and it was clear from the pained look in his eyes he was barely holding it together. There was no denying that he was my son. He looked just like me, but he had his mother’s blood running through his veins. And like her, he loved without restraint.

At times that was admirable, but now, it was keeping him from thinking straight. He was clenching his fists and moving his weight from one foot to the other. He was on the edge of a breakdown when he shouted, “She was everything to me, and they butchered her like she was nothing!”

I could see he was hurting, and I hated it.

I wanted to help him, but I had the club to consider.

“I’m sorry, Beck, but this wasn’t a strike against the club.”

Truth was, I did want blood. I wanted it bad. But I knew this crew. I knew them well. They were nothing but trouble and were always wreaking havoc. So much so, they’d caught the attention of the FBI.

They were building a case against them.

Wires.

Surveillance.

And possibly a rat on the inside.

If we went after them and wiped them out, it would only be a matter of time before the FBI caught wind of it. And when that happened, they’d turn their attention to us.

I couldn’t take the chance on the club going down in the crossfire.

Beckett looked like he was teetering on the edge when I added, “As fucked up as it might’ve been, we’re not getting involved.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“I know you’re hurting, son, but we don’t move on emotion. You go after them, and you start a war we can’t afford to fight.”

“So what?” He looked utterly defeated as he asked, “You just expect me to let it go?”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”

He didn’t get it. He wanted revenge. He thought it would ease the hurt and anger, but I knew revenge would only make it worse. I thought some time away would help, so I sent him to Washington to spend some time with our chapter there. I thought the time away would settle the storm inside him, but it didn’t.

If anything, it made it worse.

It wasn’t the only fight we had over Amy. He came to me again and again, but the answer was always the same. And it was an answer he couldn’t accept.

The dream shifted and twisted into something darker.

I heard the words, ‘They killed him’, and it nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d never felt a jolt like that. It was like someone had taken a dagger and slammed right into my heart. I couldn’t think or speak. I just kept hearing those three words over and over.

My world started crashing down around me, and I was consumed with doubt and regret. I told myself it was the smart call.

But every time I saw the cold, dead look in Beckett’s eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I chose the club over him. And maybe I did.

It was my job to lead and protect, and I hadn’t protected the one person who needed me the most. I’d failed him, and I’d failed myself.

His casket came into view, and I jolted awake.

I was covered in sweat, and my heart was pounding. The room was still dark. The morning light was just starting to creep through the blinds. I didn’t move. I just laid there, staring up at the ceiling with my chest tight and my head tangled up in a dream that clung to me like a second skin.

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