Page 68 of Destroyed (American Street Kings 4)

“Love you too.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It was going to be a hard day for all of us, and my only saving grace was knowing my woman would be waiting for me in this room once the sun had set on this dark day.

I walked to the door, my thoughts a scattered mess. But there was one thing that remained solid, one thing that would always remain unchanged…and that was my love for Neon.

I stilled as I reached for the doorknob. “You’re it for me, Neon.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Whatever curveball life throws at us, you’ll always be it for me.”

“Right back at ya.”

I smiled before I walked out. The weight on my shoulders would be heavy today, but I knew in my heart that with Neon at my side there wasn’t any obstacle we wouldn’t be able to face…together.

Once outside, Onyx and Granite were already standing next to their hogs, ready to face this grim fucking day.

I lit a cigarette. “Everyone okay?”

Granite nodded, but there was a crack in the stone-cold facade he so expertly wore all the damn time. The man’s heart was fucking broken because he didn’t just lose a crew member, he lost his best friend. A friend who died trying to protect him. It would be a long time before he’d be able to stitch that hole in his heart back together. Thank fuck for Alyx, to keep him grounded and to stop him from spinning out of control while he mourned. Grief wasn’t something Granite dealt with very well—none of us did. But when we buried his father, Granite almost lost himself and this club because he couldn’t deal. Dutch was the one who managed to pull him back and helped him get his shit together. Now he had his woman.

Onyx climbed on his hog, about to put on his lid when Manic came riding in on his Harley. Onyx and I looked at each other and then at Manic, who switched off his ignition and took off his lid. “Crow sent me to give you his condolences. He would have come personally but can’t risk attending a public memorial.”

Onyx shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Manic got off his bike, his expression somber and dismal as he sauntered toward Onyx. “Crow gave his permission for me to ride with the Kings today,” Manic licked his lips, “and to wear the Kings cut for the last time.”

Onyx narrowed his eyes. “Why would he do that?”

“He called it a way of showing no hard feelings. But if you ask me, it’s his way of showing respect and acknowledging what the Kings—what Dutch meant to me.”

Onyx glanced at me then at Granite. It was a silent way of him asking if we had any objections to Manic joining us today. If we did, we’d voice it. But we didn’t.

“Yo, Dice,” Onyx called. “Get this man a cut.”

The corners of Manic’s mouth lifted, and he merely nodded his appreciation before walking back to his hog.

Onyx gazed at the road ahead, and the moment seemed to last an eternity. God, it sucked. All the heaviness, and the loss we felt.

“I ain’t making no long speech today,” Onyx started. “But I will say Dutch will always be our brother. Life or death,” he shot Manic a sideways glance, “once a King, always a King.”

He started his ignition, and the rest of us followed. The thunderous sound of hogs filled the air. Loud, dominant, and fucking powerful. It was the first time since Stone’s death that all our chapters came together to mourn as one. To say goodbye to the man who dedicated his fucking life to the Kings. Dutch deserved that much. He deserved the respect everyone came to show him today.

Onyx, Granite, Manic, and I rode our hogs in front of the cage that transported Dutch’s casket. The rest of the Kings rode behind. It was a sea of black, the echo of hog engines heard far and wide. And while we cruised down the streets, we made sure every goddamn person saw our grief. We showed the people standing on the sidewalks that we were more than just criminal savages loyal to our insignia. We were more than men who ruined and ruled the streets of America.

We lived. We loved. We bled. And we grieved just like any other normal fucking human being.

While steering my hog behind Onyx, flanked by Granite, and Manic behind us, I felt the pain. I felt the emptiness of no longer having Dutch with us. But I also knew that come tomorrow we would pick ourselves up because everything was going to be okay.

Everything will be okay.

Epilogue

Granite

It was probablyone of the last sunny afternoons before autumn struck with its brown colors and golden tones.

It had been six weeks since we lost Manic and buried Dutch. Six weeks since the Kings underwent a shitload of changes, including burning the body of our enemy—the man who had wreaked havoc on this club, hurting so many of our loved ones. To finally see his body burn, the flames swallowing him, leaving not a trace of him behind, was liberating. Like this heavy burden I had been carrying for so long had finally been lifted from my shoulders.

Ever since the day I buried my father, I had dreamed of this moment—the moment I’d be able to live my life in a world I knew was free of the evil that ran rampant in Slither’s veins.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew somewhere, sometime, we’d find more evil fuckers that crossed our paths. But we’d be ready, and we’d deal with it as a crew—as a family.

We continued with our business with the Sixes, putting our personal differences aside, knowing we needed the business. It was hard seeing Manic, who traded his hog for one of their signature black Ducatis, ride with them. But it was his life, his decision, even though we all knew there were a lot of factors at play—one of them, saving Ink’s life.

---