Page 4 of Chaos
“Busy tonight.” I wave her away. "Find one of the other brothers to entertain you."
Kandi flashes an exaggerated pout."But?—"
“No.” I cut her off, nodding toward our club Road Captain. "Try Zeus. He likes blondes."
Zeus flips me off without taking his eyes off the fight. Kandi doesn’t even bother with him. She huffs something under her breath as she struts off toward easier prey.
Fiend laughs, clapping Zeus on the shoulder. "Prez is trying to get you laid, brother."
"I can find my own pussy, thank you very much,” Zeus says.
We’re all close. Any one of us would take a bullet for the other, but Fiend and Zeus are especially tight. The two have been inseparable since Zeus patched in eight years ago—brothers in every way except blood.
“Fuck.” Fiend’s phone screen draws his attention. His face is expressionless, but I catch the tension in his shoulders. "We got a problem, Prez. Tank and Biggy aren't responding to comms."
I suppress an eyeroll. Tank and Biggy are prospects—wannabe members working their asses off to earn their patches. They're stationed outside tonight, keeping watch while we run the fights. Both are hungry to prove themselves, especially Biggy. That boy would take a bullet before he'd shirk his duties.
"How long?" I run a hand over the scruff on my jaw.
"Twenty minutes since their last check-in." Fiend pounds a fist into his palm. "I'm about to go out there and make them wish they'd never been born."
I give a head nod, but something cold settles in my gut—the same instinct that's kept me alive through fourteen years of running this club. Biggy's solid. He wouldn't fuck around, not tonight.
I force my focus back to the fight just as Demon delivers a devastating uppercut that lifts his opponent off his feet. The man crashes to the mat, unconscious before he hits the ground. The crowd explodes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, still undefeated—our own Detroit Demon!" the announcer's voice booms over the speaker system.
Demon circles the cage with his arms raised, his dark eyes scanning the room until they find mine. I give him a subtle thumbs up—good work, brother.
My phone buzzes with a text from Fiend.
outside NOW
No explanation. No details.
"With me," I tell Zeus and Fury, already elbowing through the crowd.
The night air hits us as we exit the back door into the alley behind the warehouse. The first thing I see is Fiend kneeling beside a body. Blood—too much of it—spreads across the concrete.
Tank lies face up, eyes vacant, chest carved open. Beside him, Biggy lies lifeless as well.
"Fuck," Zeus breathes behind me.
Then Biggy twitches. His body suddenly convulses as blood bubbles from his lips.
"Get Doc," I snap, and Zeus takes off running back inside.
I crouch beside Fiend, taking in the crude symbol carved into Tank's chest—a bird with spread wings. A fucking crow. Los Cuervos making their mark.
"He's gone," Fiend says of Tank. "Biggy's hanging on by a thread."
I press my fingers to Tank's neck anyway, finding nothing but cooling skin. Dammit. The kid couldn't have been more than twenty-two.
Doc bursts through the door, medical bag in hand. He's an older brother, gray beard and steady hands, a former military medic. He provides emergency care on fight nights and has patched us up more times than I can count.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters, kneeling beside Biggy. His hands move with practiced efficiency, checking vitals, applying pressure to wounds. "We need to get him to a hospital, Chaos. I don't have the equipment for this."
"Hospital?" Fury shakes his head. "Cops will be all over us."
