Page 54 of Diesel
“Guess it’s time to dust off that fuckin’ name you hate so much, Nic,” Mace says, grinning.
Riot nods a little too enthusiastically. “Let’s see if you can really rise from the ashes, huh, Phoenix.”
I blink. Fuck.Phoenix… Nic’s real name. I haven’t heard anyone call him it in years, but it fits.
Rebirth. Fire. War.
“You’re a prick,” Nic mutters.
“Yeah, but I’m the one holding the matches.” He sits forward. “Let’s burn it all down and crawl out of the fuckin’ fire, Phoenix.”
“Or die trying,” Riley says, speaking for the first time since he took a seat.
Riot claps him on the back. “That’s the spirit, kid.” He glances back to Nic. “What do you say, Prez? Want to cause a riot?” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s not talking about dropping a nuke in the middle of our chapter. This will be bloody, messy and we might all die trying to make Birmingham into what it should have always been.
“Yeah,” Nic says, his lips twitching into a smile. “I do.”
“Then let’s fuck shit up.”
I should be scared.
I’m not. I want this for me, for Makenna. Riot doesn’t trust me. Maybe no one in this room does, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m still a Son.
I still wear the patch.
And it’s time to fucking fight for it.
SEVENTEEN
DIESEL
Movementfrom the table is slow, guarded, but no one’s throwing punches or spilling blood. I hang back, watching the others filter out like soldiers heading back to the front lines. No one speaks to me, but no one blocks the door either.
I keep my back to the wall, just in case, tapping my teeth until only Nic is left in the room. He catches my eye.
“You good?” I nod, even though I’m not sure I am. Never show weakness. “I’m glad you’re here, brother.”
I blink. Then do it again as he leaves the room. At least I have one person in my corner.
No, two.
Makenna.
I head back to the living room, my pace faster with each step. I should have left first. I should have?—
Her laugh rings out ahead of me. It’s the one she uses when she’s trying to blend in or make people like her. I stop in the doorway, boots planted hard like my legs don’t want to work.
She’s sitting on the couch, not quite relaxed, but not freaking out either. Dayna is snorting and wheezing through whatever story she’s telling while Ivy rolls her eyes.
Everything else is static in my brain but her. She’s breathing. Unharmed, not bleeding.
And she looks like she belongs here with them. She just… fits.
Her gaze lifts suddenly and locks to mine, like she senses me. The little lift of her lips into a hint of a smile nearly floors me and when she stands, I watch every step she takes until she’s in front of me.
She smells like home. Like safety. Like mine.
