Page 36 of Bane's Beginning

She shook her head carefully to not press the knife further as more tears were coming from her eyes. “Do you realize that every time you ignore what we say or make up lies or do some other ignorant ass shit that you’re jeopardizing all of our lives, not just your own?” She shook her head again as she rambled out apologies.

“Do you not care about your fucking life because if so, I’ll fucking end it now!” I yelled. My voice didn’t sound like my own at this moment, but I couldn’t help but channel all of the rage I felt locked up in Matteo’s house and how it was all because she didn’t know how to leave well-enough alone. I couldn’t forget how he would always remind me that he had only gone for her because he knew it was the only way to get to me, and he was right. If Bridgette had just walked away the first time I said he made me uncomfortable, then none of this would’ve happened. Matteo would have found a new plaything and moved on, but that’s not how our story was written and the pen was in the hands of an insecure little girl who wanted the attention of the wrong powerful rich man, at whatever cost.

I saw her head start to shake, and old Thea was slowly returning to me. “You have a choice. Either choose to fucking listen to us or I fucking slit your throat right here and right now because you might want to risk your life for petty games but I’m not and neither is Chase or Marcus.”

“Okay,” she choked out. “I’ll listen.”

“You’re going to pack your shit up and finish the rest of your summer with your parents. You’re going to keep your fuckinghead down and not say shit to anyone and, if Chase asks you to do something, even if he is asking you to stay home the next semester, you’re going to fucking listen, the first time.”

I continued when I saw her nod. “I’m not doing this with you anymore, Bridgette. I fucking mean it. I forgive you, okay? Actually, I fucking thank you because if you didn’t do what you did, I wouldn’t have left to find my brother or met Ma-,” I stopped myself, quickly. “So stop worrying about us. We’re cool, I know what happened fucked with you too, but you need to work on your shit just like I’m working on mine. Okay?”

I let her go and she slumped to the floor crying as she mumbled the words thank you over and over. Bridgette was a very broken girl, I knew that the moment I met her, which is why I will always love her, despite my better judgment.

“It’s time for you all to go home,” I said to Chase and Marcus with heavy breaths and they nodded their heads in agreement. I stepped over Bridgette and headed back to my room. Thankfully, the boys were in Church and no one was in the living room, which means the likelihood of someone hearing what had just gone down was slim.

I laid in my bed and started to shake. I wasn’t sure why, but I just assumed it was the adrenaline catching up to me once again. These past two days have been a rollercoaster of emotion for me. From Maverick taking me out and then asking me to go undercover. My ex-boyfriend showing up to proclaim his love for me but overdosing before he could get the words out, a panic attack triggered by the sirens on the way to pick up said ex-boyfriend, my absent brother apologizing and asking me to move in with him, and then lastly, but not least, holding a knife to my best friend’s neck and threatening to slit her throatbecause she lied about getting calls from the mafia leader who is currently stalking me.

With all that in mind, my body was definitely allowed to shake a little, and puking in the trash can beside my bed was also okay, which is exactly what I did before I finally fell asleep.

Chapter 19: Maverick

“Sheriff Brinkley, what can I do for you?”

I said to the five-foot-seven, gray-haired man with the stick up his ass. Brinkley had been the sheriff in my town since I was a kid, and over the years, our club and the department had reached an understanding. They overlooked most of the illegal shit we did as long as we helped them when their law-abiding police work couldn’t serve the right amount of justice that needed to be served. Still, this understanding didn’t stop the old fuck from giving me a hard time and busting my balls.

“You know why I’m here, Walker,” the old man grumbled as he smoothed out his beard with his hand.

I gave him an over-exaggerated sigh as if I was thinking hard and said, “I’m not sure I do.”

His eyes got serious as he took in the shit-eating grin on my face. That asshole wanted info on the OD last night, and I wasn’t going to give it to him. The police hadn’t done shit to solve who was pushing weight in my territory, so why would that stop now?

“I know a kid overdosed at your club last night, Walker. Witnesses say they saw some of your club members push a kid into a van before police showed up,” he sighed. “Where’s the kid?”

“I don’t have a kid,” I said sternly. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you shit, Brinkley.”

Anger flashed through his eyes as he moved his hands to lie against his belt. “I thought we were working on this together. We want the same thing, don’t you forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you and your boys haven’t done shit to stop the drugs flooding the streets, so we are taking matters into our own hands, Old Man.”

Once again, he sighed. He knew he didn’t have the authority, or the manpower, to stop me or the club. He may enforce the law, but my brothers and I didn’t answer to them.

“But the kid-,” I cut him off abruptly. “I don’t have a kid, but if I did, he would have been a friend of the club and would be taken care of.”

Understanding what I was putting down, Sheriff Brinkley nodded. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Walker. Pleasure as always.”

I nodded to the man and watched as he turned and walked toward his police cruiser.

I sighed, shutting the door. It was time to get to the bottom of this shit so I could get that fucking Marcus douche out of my clubhouse.

“Church!” I yelled across the living room.

***

“What did that shit stain say about where he got the coke?” Crash asked, seated at the table we do church at.

“Said some guy covered in tattoos approached him and Bimbo Blondie about some coke at the hotel they checked into when they arrived, off of Grimer,” Ares answered. “He also called himself Preacher.”

“I got two of the prospects scoping out the hotel and a few others close by to see if they can get eyes on anyone matching the description,” I added.