Page 72 of The Souls We Claim
King grabs the person I believe is the younger brother. “I’ll take this one.”
Which means I’m left with the older one. An idea forms in my mind. “This was all your brother’s idea? Joining the Righteous Brotherhood?”
From his spot on the edge of the bed, he looks at the open door his brother just went through. “He thought he’d found this amazing organization. I thought it was a cult.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Probably is. Part cult, part wannabe revolutionaries, part cosplay soldiers. You think it sucks so much, why are you here?”
He shakes his head. “You have a brother?”
I think about the reason I’m here. “Of a fashion.”
“Then you know you’d do pretty much anything to keep them out of trouble.”
“Not all brothers,” I say.
“Fuck, are you going to kill us?”
“How old are you, kid?”
“Seventeen. River is sixteen.”
They remind me of new recruits to the military. Too fucking young. All fresh-faced and optimistic. Until they have their will kicked out of them.
I rub a hand across my jaw. “What do you know about the Righteous Brotherhood?”
“That they sit around and eat pizza all day and talk about the New Order running the country and shit. Taking back America by taking back control of the government. River drinks that shit in.”
“And you?”
“It’s a roof over our head.”
I push down the urge to give this kid cash to get the fuck out of here. “You know that’s what they play on. The disenfranchised who want a better life and respond to the rhetoric that anyone not white is going to take away jobs and liberties.”
“Says the guy in a motorcycle club gang.”
I huff at that one. “Touché, kid. Maybe the difference is we’re willing to work for a better life, claim it on our own terms. Maybe we don’t put down people who are different to us. Maybe we’reaccepting and inclusive. You’re on the wrong side of fucking history with this shit. You know they traffic girls?”
King walks into the room. “River knows nothing. Started fucking crying as soon as I asked him a question.”
The kid stands. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
King just looks at him, then walks out.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Jax.”
“No shit,” I say, but don’t tell him why. I came in here expecting to kill someone tonight, but I don’t see my enemy in Jax’s face. Just a troubled kid who saw no better options.
I take the roll of cash I always carry out of my pocket and peel off five hundred-dollar bills. “Stay here tonight. Maybe a few more days so they don’t think you told us shit and ran. Then use this to figure out some better options, kid.”
I put the cash on the bed, then grab my knife. Jax’s eyes go wide.
“Relax, I’m just cutting your hands free.”
His shoulders relax as I slice the cable ties. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let me down. Get the fuck out of here in a couple of days. Say it’s not for you.” I head to the door.
