Kelly and I didn’t waste any time putting our plan in motion. The pregnancy test came back negative but that was okay. It would happen. I’d get Kelly pregnant, I was sure of it. In the meantime, we were going to have a fuck of good time trying.
She was discharged the next morning and Stryker, Cobra and Deuce were waiting to take us home. The police had brought Jack, Blackie, Riggs and Pipe in for questioning. Seeing as we attacked Yankovich in Purchase, New York that made it a state issue, which meant things worked a little different than they did within the city limits. It also meant they weren’t privy to Yankovich’s crimes, and so they spent the night filling them in on the decades of torture.
Bas was brought into custody as well and remained long after the others were discharged. It turned out that the mother of Yankovich’s children was abducted by him years ago. The children were frightened and for some reason, Bas felt it was his duty to see them through the days that followed. Not that he was allowed access to them but, he wouldn’t leave without knowing how the story unfolded for those two kids. It was ironic considering he was the one who offered to use them as bait. Maybe it was his guilty conscience or maybe it was the years he spent in and out of the system. I’ll probably never find out.
Yankovich didn’t go down as easily as I thought and after Cobra finished reading Ally’s letter, Pipe took a knife to his neck.
Ally had the final word and Oksana had the final act.
It was a sliver of retribution for his crimes and still, it didn’t feel like it was enough.
Sure, Vladimir and Igor were dead but, so were many faceless girls the world had forgotten.
The authorities would spend the next months—years even—investigating the past and trying to locate all the girls he abducted. The odds of discovering another Ally were slim to none and the body count would likely exceed anyone’s imagination. The realization left us hollow but, there was nothing more we could do.
We weren’t in the business of rescuing people. That wasn’t our forte. We were just a bunch of guys looking to survive the streets we called home. Yankovich was out of our lives and it was time to rebuild. I’m not referring to the clubhouse but rather the foundation of who we are and what we stand for. Nothing can survive if it’s built on lies, not relationships and certainly not a motorcycle club.
My father wasn’t a good man. In fact, he was no better than Yankovich. I could lie to myself and say he was misguided and use him being a junkie as an excuse but, at the end of the day, my father knew what he was doing. He knew he had fucked up and like Wolf said, killing himself was an out for his crimes and leaving Jack holding the candle made him the biggest pussy to ever walk the face of the earth.
As I park my bike in front of Pipe’s garage, I realize I don’t regret my decision to be a Knight. What I regret is spending years chasing his ghost and thinking I’d fail him. Instead, I should’ve paid closer attention to the men surrounding me. If only I would’ve followed in their shoes, then maybe I would be half the man they are.
Loyal.
Honorable.
Respectable.
Maybe not to everyone but, to the people that matter most the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn are the definition of those three things. As I make my way into the lit garage, I look around at the original members. Jack, Blackie, Pipe, and Riggs all stand huddled together. The only one missing from their circle is, Wolf. The beast gets a pass while his son is recovering from the gunshot wound. Both from the club and his diet seeing as I just dropped off a salami and mortadella hero to him at the hospital.
Focusing my attention back to Jack, I notice the dark and dangerous look that many fear is affixed to his face. Removing his cut, he hands it off to Blackie. The silent understanding between them fills the room as Jack, takes a seat on a stool in the center of the room. Beside him, Needles slides on a pair of latex gloves.
Pulling his shirt from his head, Jack hands it to Pipe. That’s when he spots me.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he says as I walk further inside. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I shrug my shoulders.
“I wanted to show my respect,” I admit.
My eyes dart to the rolling table in front of Needles and the tattoo gun he prepares.
“And, my gratitude,” I add, turning my gaze back to him. “I know I lied to all of you and I know looking at me will always be a reminder you can’t erase,” I say, nodding to the tattoo on his shoulder. “But, in case you doubted me, I wanted to make my intentions clear. I started my journey as a Knight looking to be like my father, hoping wherever he ended up, I was making him proud. The day I stepped foot into your clubhouse was the day that cause died. I am not my father’s son. I am not the spawn of Satan. I’m Lincoln Brandt a man who was lost but now found and I am your brother. My loyalty and respect belong to you,” I say.
Lifting my head, my eyes sweep the room.
“It belongs to all of you.”
“Sounds like you’re telling me something kid,” Jack says as he cocks his head. “You can say it.”
“I’m property of Parrish,” I reply hoarsely.
The words free me from my father’s chains as I watch Jack’s lips quirk.
“That’s a forever kind of thing, don’t you forget that.”
“Never,” I promise as the tattoo gun sounds. Diverting my attention to Needles, I watch as he lifts the gun to Jack’s shoulder and starts to black out his name.
A poignant moment in the history of the Satan’s Knights.
An end to a tumultuous era.
A hand covers my shoulder, startling me and as I turn my head, I take in the three men who were once as lost as me.
The drifter.
The wanderer.
The roamer.
Standing next to a loner, a band of new brothers.
It’s another poignant moment symbolizing a new beginning for the men in leather.
The future of the Satan’s Knights.