With a wave of his gun, Damon ushered Griffin into the shot out remains of the Los Diablos’ clubhouse, leaving the others behind. Under duress, he sat down on the couch, staring down the barrel of the gun. Griffin felt nearly numb from rage and horror.

 

Now that he had time to actually look at it, the inside of the Los Diablos’ clubhouse was nearly exactly like the Disciples’ clubhouse. They did not have a pool table, but instead had a dart board. Couches and chairs were crammed into the area, next to a mini-fridge that once was stocked with beer. The beer was now littered across the ground, some cans had already popped open, spilling their contents all over the floor and mixing with the shattered glass and chips of stucco.

 

Damon looked remarkably pleased with himself, and Griffin was surprised that he was surprised by this. Pacing like the villain in an action movie, Griffin was half expecting him to gloat about his evil scheme.

 

“So,” Griffin began, trying to remain unflappable in spite of the gun pointed at him. “I guess you and the Los Diablos are tight now?”

 

“You are thinking way too small,” Damon replied. “Emanuel and the rest of the Disciples were always so wrapped up in the idea of having a rival they never stopped to even think for one goddamn moment that maybe it would be better to just join forces.”

 

“So have them kill the president; that will definitely bridge the gap.”

 

Damon laughed a little bit. “You figured it out, huh?”

 

“It is not too hard to figure out, Damon. I mean, look at you.”

 

Damon began to pace again, keeping his gun trained directly on Griffin just in case any funny business happened. He was jittery and excited, clearly riding the high of his own deception, and Griffin wished that he could smack that smarmy self-satisfied look right off of his stupid face.

 

“Yeah, because I can see the big picture, Griffin. You guys are all wrapped up in your own territorial nonsense, all obsessed with the Los Diablos versus the Disciples. That was Emanuel’s problem all along. You never noticed that we could be ten times more powerful together than apart, so I had the Los Diablos take him out. It was for the good of the club, Griffin. You have to know that.”

 

“No.”

 

Damon laughed. “That was always your problem, Griffin. You were always so goddamn angry you never took the time to think. It is people like you that I need to cull from the Disciples. No one thinks rationally anymore; they’re all just snot-nosed little kids who wouldn’t even get into community college so they decided to become outlaws.”

 

Griffin almost jumped off the couch to attack Damon, but Damon clearly anticipated it and shook his head, waving the gun to remind Griffin that it was there. Griffin did not even care about the gun anymore; all he wanted to do was throw one punch into that face.

 

“So you betrayed Emanuel, just like that? You set him up to be killed because you did not like his business model?”

 

“Sometimes these things must be done, but luckily my plan is finally coming to its grand finale.”

 

“Oh? And what’s the finale?”

 

Damon laughed. “I am tying up loose ends, of course! First, there is you. There are the guys just like you. And then, of course, there is the girl.”

 

Griffin’s heart froze over.

 

“You know, Emanuel’s daughter? It is just like when kings were overthrown in the old days, you had to kill all of their kids, too, just in case one of them got the idea in the future to get some revenge on the person who killed them. Sure, Natasha’s a woman, but stranger things have happened.”

 

“Don’t you say her name,” Griffin growled.

 

“Ah, yes, that tragedy. Of course, the big bad Griffin who never was able to get pinned down falls for Emanuel Morrison’s daughter. It would have been perfect were it not for this, of course. But hey, better to have loved and lost, right?”

 

Griffin did not say anything, but that only caused Damon to continue.

 

“Well, don’t worry about it, because I know for a fact that poor little Natasha will not be for long in this world. I sent one of my best guys over there to tie that loose end up personally. She’s probably already waiting for you in Hell as we speak.”

 

Damon cocked the hammer of the gun back, seriousness overtaking his face.

 

“But now it is time for me to do my part.”

 

Griffin knew that he should say something, anything in order to buy some time. For a heartbeat of a moment, he tried to stand, tried to rush him, tried to do anything that could potentially save his life at that moment, but everything went dark as Damon pulled the trigger.

 

Fire ripped through Griffin’s chest painfully, as the bullet was fired into his chest. His heart raced in terror, as he could feel the warm blood spread through him, and darkness swam around the edges of his eyes.

 

Natasha, he thought miserably. Please be okay.

 

Damon knelt before Griffin as he began to cough up blood, studying his face and shaking his head in mock pity.

 

“It is a shame, you know,” Damon said. “If Emanuel took a firmer hand with you, with any of these guys, things might have turned out differently.”

 

As darkness began to overtake him, Griffin watched helplessly as Damon turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving him alone. All he could hear was the wild and unsteady beating of his heart through the pain until finally—and almost thankfully—everything went black.