Page 31 of Thunder

Chapter Thirteen

Thunder

The sky is on fire, hues of orange and red and deep purple bathe the world as we finish cleaning up the remnants of the barbecue. The scent of grilled meat and smoke still lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of gasoline from our motorcycles. I survey the parking lot of the event hall, a sense of accomplishment and pride swelling in my chest.

Accomplishment, pride, and a bit of justified vengeance.

"Damn, we really pulled it off," Bullet says, wiping sweat from his brow. He grins at me, his blue eyes sparkling. "We got our message out there today."

"Sure did," Rook agrees, his voice raspy after a day’s worth of barbecue smoke. His gaze narrows, and an unsettling glint appears in his eyes. "But we still have work to do. We need to keep the pressure on that damn project."

"Any ideas?" I ask, running my fingers through my dark hair, trying to tame the wildness that seems to envelop me these days. I scan the faces of my brothers, searching for inspiration.

"More protests," Bullet suggests. "Maybe even some civil disobedience. Anything to make them realize they can't just bulldoze their way into our town."

"Sounds good to me," I say, nodding my agreement. My lips still feel the taste of Lia lingering on them. I need to get out for a ride and clear my head, sort out how I feel about her. “Rook, you look like you’ve got an idea brewing. What is it?”

“Two words: Molotov cocktails. Yes, plural.”

“No. Just no.” Still, I grin at him. It would feel satisfying to hurl a few of them, maybe into the offices of the development company.

“Think about it.”

“Seriously, we are a long way away from burning our enemies alive with homemade explosives.”

“It could be fun. Just think about it.”

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the camaraderie of the moment. I glance down at the screen and see Owen's name flashing.

"Owen? What's going on?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady, but I can hear the tremor, the anger that threatens to break free.

"Marcus, it's Grandma Eileen," he says, his voice shaking. "She's taken a turn for the worst."

My heart plummets like a stone in water, pulling me under with it.

"What happened?" I choke out, my hands gripping the phone tightly.

"I don't know," Owen says. "The doctors are still trying to figure things out, but they suspect she may have had a reaction to some of the medicine she received." He pauses, and I can hear him swallow hard before continuing. "I think someone may have tried to poison her as retaliation."

"Poison?" I whisper. The thought of someone harming Eileen, that sweet old woman who reminds me so much of the grandmother I lost when I was just a boy, fills me with a rage I've never known before. Who the fuck would do that? My phone creaks for mercy in my hand, and I realize I’m squeezing it so hard I’ve nearly broken the damn thing.

"Stay with her, Owen. I'll be there soon," I say, my voice a growl.

I hang up the phone, my chest tight with grief and fury.

I had a part in this.

It’s because of what I did here today that Eileen could be dying.

"Thunder, what's wrong?" Bullet asks, concern etched on his face.

Rook stands silently beside him, his jaw clenched, sensing the storm brewing within me.

"Someone hurt Eileen," I tell them, my words dripping with venom. “I have to go take care of it.”

"Thunder. Hold on, what do you mean someone hurt Eileen?" Bullet calls out as I swing my leg over my motorcycle, but I don't answer. The engine roars beneath me, drowning out their voices like an angry beast. My thoughts race, dark and vengeful, as I tear through the streets. All I can think of is hurting whoever did this to Eileen. Making them pay with their life.

Costa Oscura General Hospital looms ahead, its sterile white walls offering no comfort. With a screech of tires, I skid to a halt outside and hurry inside. Owen waits for me in the lobby, his face pale and drawn. He looks like he's aged ten years since our last meeting.

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