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“You’re not gonna like it, Sadie, but this is our way. It’s final.”
She blinked back tears. “But the Alpha, he’s good. He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“Then you need to convince him to push out the vargulf because the club won’t let that slide. That evil fuck is going down. I won’t let another moon rise before my father is vindicated.”
Sadie sniffled. “I understand. I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Good,” Raven answered, “because I have a feeling it’s going to be you that settles this.”
With the plan in place, we all left the bar at peace with our decision.
Chapter 11
“You all know why we’ve gathered. It’s been too fucking long, but we’re finally getting justice for Rook,” I announced.
Undertaker was brought to the corner of the lot outside our workshop. I had him chained to a couple of steel beams, arms spread apart, and legs kicked wide. He formed an X in front of the crowd. His body had been pulled tight, and he’d withstand whatever beating the club decided to give him.
I glanced at his face, nothing the absence of emotion. It was hard to tell if the vargulf or the Alpha was in control. I hoped the vargulf because this wasn’t going to be pretty. “Raven. You’re up.”
My V.P. and Rook’s best friend approached from the right. He didn’t say shit to Undertaker before he swung his fist, landing a punch to his gut that I knew had to hurt.
Undertaker grunted. That was it.
Raven jabbed at his jaw and stomach a few times before spitting at his chest. “Fuck you for taking our president. Go to hell.”
A few members grew vocal, agreeing with Raven.
“Hawk.”
Our S.A.A. got his hits in next, using his kickboxing skills to full effect. I don’t think my fucking balls would withstand that kind of attack.
“Talon.”
I called up members one by one. They all took their turn, exacting justice with violence. That was our way of honoring Rook and letting the past go. We had to make peace with it, heal, and move on as a club.
Undertaker dangled by the chains, a bloody, swollen, disfigured lump of flesh. I heard a couple of bones crack during this process. He had a black eye that darkened more with every passing second. Split lip. Bruises. Burns. Cuts. Blood-soaked clothes. A Lot of members spit on him. A couple pissed on him. He fucking stunk.
I almost opened my mouth to tell Carson to begin the spell when the flapping of wings caught my attention. And from the shadows, with a crow perched on each shoulder, Carrion joined us—the last to service judgment.
“They’re ready now,” he murmured.
Well, damn. Crows flew in from all directions. They perched on the roof and dropped to the asphalt, hopping as they cawed. I watched as they formed a mobbing, furious as they continued to squawk and chitter, berating Undertaker for taking Rook from us. A sea of black blinked around us, calming as I heard a single flap of wings.
One lone crow.
A bird I knew as well as my own, but I hadn’t seen him or felt his presence since my father’s death.
Rook’s crow.
My club brothers fell silent. Some lowered their heads.
I couldn’t help watching him approach.
Rook’s crow dove for me and landed on my shoulder. “Kraa.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Carrion cleared his throat. “He came one last time for Rook.”
