Page 17 of Life Or Death

“All of ‘em.” Dread supplies.

Shadow’s eyebrows shoot up, and his gaze jerks in my direction. “What about the contracts we already have in place? If we unload our entire stock to the Knights, we won’t be able to meet the demands we’ve already signed off on.”

“Not necessarily,” Tormentor says. “We have another shipment scheduled for the end of the month, and two more due over the next four. We’ve been doing supply drops quarterly.”

“Right,” Dread confirms. “By the time we have to make our drop to the Grave Prowlers, we’ll have the guns.”

“This just puts more money on our books and in our pockets.”

“It’s risky,” Shadow says. “I’m not trying to jinx us, but our track record hasn’t been all that great lately. What if another one of our enemies strikes? With no stockpile, we’re putting ourselves in a vulnerable situation.”

He isn’t wrong. Going into battle with the guns we have on hand is less than ideal. It’s a fucking death sentence, but our backs are against the wall. Even if we chose not to rebuild the bar, we don’t have enough fluid cash to keep us going.

We need a score.

A quick hit to put our heads above water.

“Look around, brother,” I say. “We’re already in a vulnerable situation. The only other option we got is drugs, and I don’t think that’s a can of worms any of us want to open. There’s too much heat on us.”

We continue to go back and forth, all of us weighing our options until we decide Dread will call the Knights and schedule a meeting. Me, him, and Tormentor will make our way to North Carolina while Shadow and the rest work on a transportation plan that way if the Knights take the deal, we can move on the fly.

Church is adjourned. The brothers push back from the table, their chairs scraping against the floor before they all file out, except for Dread, who remains seated. His eyes connect with mine as he reaches into his cut and produces his phone.

“We really doing this?”

“It appears that way, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck,” he hisses, turning the phone over in his hand. “I’ll make the call.”

I jerk my chin and reach for the bottle of bourbon. My hand hovers for a beat just as my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I set the bottle down and fish it out of my cut, turning it over. Tori’s name stares back at me from the screen, and my gut instantly clenches.

The girl would not be calling me unless something was wrong.

I press the phone to my ear. “Tori.”

“You need to get to the hospital. Now,” she says, sounding winded.

I grip the edge of the table. “What happened?”

“They’re weaning her out of the coma.”

The words hit me like a fucking sledgehammer. Everything in me ceases—my breath, my heartbeat, the blood in my veins. It all just stops, suspended in a single, frozen moment where the world tilts on its axis.

The phone slips from my fingers, and I push to my feet, the chair toppling backward, clattering against the ground.

Dread’s head snaps up from his phone call.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Jess.”

That’s all I can manage before I’m moving, my boots pounding against the chapel floor as I shove through the doors. I don’t spare a glance at my brothers as I race for the door, Dread hot on my heels. He calls my name, but I can barely hear him over the sound of my hammering pulse.

I swing my leg over my bike and kick it to life. The engine roars beneath me, vibrating through my bones, and for a moment it drowns out everything—the guilt, the fear, the dread that’s been my constant companion since the fire.

But it’s a fleeting reprieve that fades the second I pull out of the compound and hit the open road. The wind whips at my face as my mind races. I stop at a light, and as I wait for it to turn green, I picture Jess lying on the hospital bed. Those pretty eyes of hers finally are open, but I don’t get to enjoy them. I don’t get to relish in the relief that she’s awake, because the second she realizes the monster who put her in the hospital bed is the same who married her while she slept, it’s all over.

CHAPTER SIX