Page 67 of Storm's Deliverance

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

STORM

Enzo,Oliver, Drix, River, and Linc are all digging the ground, dressed in only their kuttes; no shirts as the warm sun was causing them to sweat. They dig around four feet down before jumping out and slowly lifting Rusty’s body, doing their best to lower him into the grave. Dad kneels down and lays a Black Hearts MC kutte over him, his prospect patch removed, and instead, he places a solider patch in its place. We each grab a rose, taking it in turn to place it in with him.

I fight back the tears, my jaw set tight as guilt clouds my thoughts. This is all my fault. Zeke did this. I brought Zeke here. Swallowing, I turn and see Drix is there, his eyes pinned on me. He subtly shakes his head from left to right before reaching for me and pulling me to him. He wraps his arms around me, keeping me close. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of him and leather.

“This is not your fault,” he whispers in my ear, his hand stroking the back of my head. I don’t answer. I just use him as my crux to stop myself from breaking.

“We lay our brother, Rusty, to rest,” Dad’s gravelled voice carries through the silent clearing. “May Hades guide his soul.A Black Hearts brother in this life, and the next. Ride free, brother.”

The early evening night falls deathly still. Drix’s fingers reluctantly slip from mine as I step aside with the ol’ ladies. One by one, the patched members move forward, their faces carved from stone. No tears, and no speeches. Just grief buried beneath leather, ink, and loyalty. Each brother lowers a flaming torch into the grave. The dry timber catches with a hungry roar, and orange flames lick over Rusty’s kutte first, the Black Hearts patch, before disappearing beneath the fire. The blaze greedily consumes the rest of him. Smoke coils into the night sky, like his soul is finally leaving the earth, carrying every laugh, every scar, every mile he’d ridden beside his brothers. Nobody looks away and nobody flinches. This is the price of the patch. This is the cost of brotherhood.

The crackling fire is deafening, drowning out the quiet sniffles behind me, while the smell of burning leather, wood, and flesh hangs heavy in the warm night air. My chest aches. Not because Rusty had been patched for years. He hadn’t. He was still earning his place. Still dreaming of the day Ghost would hand him his full patch. Now he’d never wear it. Never ride another mile, and never call these men his brothers again.

The lump in my throat becomes unbearable. I’d spent months forcing myself not to cry, refusing to break, refusing to let Zeke take anything else from me, but as Rusty disappears beneath the flames, one tear escapes. It trails silently down my cheek, burning almost as fiercely as the fire before us. A life stolen, a family left grieving, and deep in my bones, I know this isn’t the end.

“No brother rides alone. Not in this life, and not in the next,” Dad says his final words before turning and walking back to the clubhouse. Others follow him, but I stay standing, watching asthe flames consume Rusty. Drix stands by my side, never leaving me.

“He won’t stop,” I whisper.

He firmly grips the back of my neck, giving me a gentle squeeze before he presses a kiss to the side of my temple. “He will, because we end him before he can do anymore harm,” Drix says with a low threatening certainty.

All of usare sitting in the bar area, and the usually loud bikers are quiet as they reflect on the loss of their brother; their prospect. They would normally all be drunk by now, celebrating his life, toasting in his memory, but this is anything but normal circumstances. There is a threat; an unknown threat. So there is no drinking, and no celebration of Rusty’s life. Just tense mourning. Rage sits at the table across from me, his blade in hand as he stabs repeatedly fast between his fingers, muttering words of and anger and promises of death.

“I’m going to go lie down,” I sigh. Drix goes to stand and come with me. I shake my head. “No, stay. They need you more than I do right now.” I gesture to the brothers, to my dad, and my brother.

“I don’t want you being on your own,” he states firmly.

I smile. “You’ve all secured the compound. I’m just going to be in my room, down the hall. You can come to bed later. I will be fine,” I assure him. I can see he wants to protest, but as he opens his mouth to argue, my dad cuts him off.

“Church, now!” Dad barks as he strides off, his eyes cast down as he looks at his phone.

“See? You’re needed. Go,” I urge him.

Drix gives me a small nod before pressing his lips softly to mine. “Don’t go to your bed. I want you in mine.” Then he turns and leaves, following every other brother to church.

Before heading off to bed in Drix’s room, I walk over to my mom, but her eyes are busy following Dad. “Hey,” I call to catch her attention.

She blinks, then smiles softly. “You okay?” she asks, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“I am. I’m off to bed. Are you okay, Mom?” I ask, my brows furrowing in concern.

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, I’m used to this by now. Always a drama. There isn’t nothing your dad and this family won’t survive,” she states firmly, but I catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.

“Mom,” I press.

She sighs, offering me a small smile. She looks around before moving us out of ear shot from the others. “Your dad and I were talking, and well, he was getting close to passing over the reigns.”

“Oh, wow,” I say, surprised. My mom and dad live and breathe for this club. Without it, I’m not sure who they would be.

“Yeah, I mean, he must hand over the gavel at some point, right? He can’t be in his eighties and still be leading the guys. He would break a hip for crying out loud. At least, if he was retired, if he’s going to break his hip, it would be from our love making,” she sighs.

“Mom. Jesus,” I gag.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Storm.” She tuts. “I just think this has set him back. He likes control, your father, in so many ways.” She sighs wistfully, a lust filled expression on her face.

I click my fingers in front of her face. “Mom, for fuck’s sake. Keep it clean,” I plead, for my sanity if nothing else.