His jaw dropped. “What? What the fuck are you saying? He got you raped… he got you…”
I held up my hand, cutting him off before he got his foot stuck any farther up it. “No, Sabbath. You started this war with the Crows. You’re the one who stole me away from Hoax. This is not Sandman’s fault. This is yours. Everything is always your fault.”
The scowl appeared on his face so quickly that it didn’t surprise me. The bipolarity of Sabbath’s moods was something I was used to. And I loathed it, almost as much as I loathed him.
“You need Sandman, Sabbath. You need all your men to get you out of this mess you’re in.”
Sabbath shot a look at Snyder, who was just taking our whole conversation in like a fly on the wall.
“Shasta—”
“Just stop, Sabbath. Stop blaming others for your own bullshit. The club deserves to know what you did, and if you won’t tell them, I fucking will.”
Before Sabbath could open his mouth to clear the air, Ranger came rushing in, a look of sheer panic in his eyes.
“It’s Sandman!” he shouted.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked, fear and anxiety instantly hitting me.
Ranger’s green eyes softened when he saw the sheer panic taking hold of me. He’s always been a genuine guy, one of the nicest in the club. I’ve never seen him look so worried before. And despite the turmoil he met in my eyes, he kept going, dropping the most heart-wrenching bomb he could ever ignite. “He started convulsing—and then the doctors and nurses rushed in. They said he’s coding. They don’t think he’s going to make it.”
Oh my god. Not Sandman.