“You all right?” Holt asked after hammering down the chilled shot of whiskey in his hand.

I thumbed the top of my rocks glass, shaking my head. “It’s all so fucked, ya know?”

His hand landed firmly on my back then his fingers gripped at the leather of my cut for a few seconds. “We’ll get through this, brother. Abel would have wanted us to keep moving forward.” He let go, threw back another shot, and then continued, “We will make this right. Just have faith. We all need time to heal and grieve.”

Holton Walsh was one of the best men that I knew. He was the vice president of our club, wearing the patch with honor. He had dedicated his entire life to becoming the best outlaw he could be, from running the bar, to helping out at the garage, never backing down from a fight and always putting the club above himself. I truly admired him.

“I hear ya, brother. It just all feels off,” I couldn’t help but admit.

He pursed his lips and nodded. “We’ll get back onto an even keel.”

Holt shoved away from the bar to make his way over to where his son was sitting with Red, Collin, and Ozzy. We weren’t having a funeral for our fallen king; we just did what he would have wanted us to do: gather at our bar and be together.

Even though we were all together, it didn’t feel right. Why weren’t we out searching for the motherfucker who shot Abel? Why weren’t we offing every Sinners member we could get our hands on? Why wasn’t anyone mad or at least showing it? Rage pumped through my veins. I couldn’t even think straight.

Jesse slammed down onto the stool next to me with a throaty groan. “Raine, another? Please and thank you, sweetheart.”

Raine smiled sweetly with watery eyes at Jesse while opening a bottle of Bud for him. “Of course.” Without even asking, she filled my bourbon up and threw in a couple more ice cubes. “Doin’ good, Tre?”

I nodded while trying to smile at Abel’s daughter. She looked so much like him, it killed me. Her father was why I was alive; it didn’t seem right that I was still breathing and he was six feet under.

Jesse turned to me. “How’re you holding up?”

Fuck this.

I chugged the rest of my drink, slammed the glass down on the bar top, and walked away without answering.

How am I holding up? I’m fucking not.

Am I all right? Fuck no.

Am I mad as fuck? Hell yes.

I made my way into the restricted area in the back to get some privacy. I needed a shred of alone time or I was going to punch someone.

Looking into the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. I saw the shell of the man I had become. How had I gotten so lost along the way? The years had built me up, stripped me down, burned me alive. I felt like a pile of ash getting tortured by the slightest breeze.

Standing in the employee bathroom of the Unacceptables’ bar, I tried to piece it all together. Abel was dead. Regicide, the most despicable act—the lowest of the low, even for outlaws. Those fuckers were going to have to pay for what they’d done. Somehow, some way, revenge was going to have to happen. My faith in the skull and bones on my back was fading. My resolve to keep going was as well, but my brothers needed me, and I knew I somehow needed to pull my shit together for all our sakes. I just didn’t know how to at that point.

I burst out of the bathroom and into the small office that used to be Abel’s. The fake wood paneling was fading and the dank room smells like beer and old socks. I stared at the pictures lining the walls. Abel smiling with different club members, baby pictures of Collin and Raine, pictures from Abel’s wedding day. I was about to turn to leave when one caught my eye. It was from the day I got patched in. Abel and Holt had their arms around my shoulders. Grabbing it off the wall, I removed the picture from its frame and slid it into my back pocket.

After rummaging in Abel’s desk for his electric clippers, I made my way back into the bathroom. I plugged them in and let the razor roar to life in my hand. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Line by line, my hair fell onto my shoulders and the floor. My sunken eyes bored holes in my soul as I let myself go back to my roots. I had to dig deep to see the man I once was, the broken Marine that was rescued on the side of the road by men in cuts.

It was a lifetime ago, but in that moment, it felt like only yesterday that bikers were peeling my mangled body off the concrete in a dirty alley.

“Hey man, you all right?”

The words faded into the darkness as I fought to understand where I was, who was talking, what the fuck was going on. I tried to open my swollen eyes, tried to form words. All I could do was spit out loogies filled with blood and choke repeatedly. Moaning like an imbecile, bloody and beaten within an inch of my life, I just lay there in a gutter like trash.

“Fuck, I know this guy,” one of the men said. I knew I had heard the voice before, but I couldn’t place it. “Let’s get him back to my place,” the familiar voice continued, and I was so grateful. I had no idea who they were, how many of them there were, anything, but I was in no position to care. I needed help, and they were offering it to me.

“He’s pretty fucking banged up. Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital or something?” inquired an unfamiliar male voice.

“Nah, Ava will know what to do.” That name, Ava…I knew that name. Where do I know it from? Who is this guy? Why can’t I remember?

The men lifted me into the back seat of what seemed to be a pickup truck as I slipped in and out of consciousness. I tried to stay awake, stay alert, but it was futile. After driving for what felt like a lifetime, we pulled down a long gravel driveway.

As soon as they got me inside and onto the couch, I passed out. The pain was excruciating, the blood loss made me weak, and my head was in a damn fog from getting boot stomped over and over.

* * *

“You’re awake.” A kind smile met me as I tried to sit up a little. My eyes were still swollen to the point that I could barely make out her features other than her long hair and wide grin. “Buck! Trent’s waking up!” the woman’s voice called out.

“Do I know you?” My voice was raspy from my vocal cords being beaten.

She pressed a cool towel to my forehead. “Tre, it’s me, Ava. You served in Iraq with my brother, Kane.”

My mind was a fog. I could barely grasp the memories, just little flickers and flashes. “Buckley?” The name fell off my tongue but felt foreign.

Excitement laced her words. “Yes! That’s right, Kane Buckley. You used to always call him Buck.”

Buck and Ava…it was clicking, the gears slowly turning. Ava was a nurse. Buck was a former jarhead, just like me, and we served together for two tours. He kept his shit together; I fell off the wagon.

Right then, I realized my entire body was shaking. My bones felt like they were on fire. My skin crawled. My head was pounding.

“What happened to you, brother?” Buck’s voice came from behind me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Last thing I remember is walking down the street.”

Ava forcefully pushed my shoulder down when I tried to sit up to look at her brother. “I don’t know if you have any broken bones yet, Trent. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

“What did you take?” Kane’s question was stern.

Racking my brain, I couldn’t remember for the life of me. Heroin? It felt like I was coming down from heroin, but fuck if I knew for sure. All I knew was that I was going to need another fix fucking soon or I was going to be tweaking out like a mad man.

“I can’t remember,” I reluctantly admitted.

“Here.” Ava put two familiar-looking pills in my hand followed by three fingers of whiskey in a paper cup.

I raised an eyebrow at her before taking the small round blue pills in my hand. I rolled them around until the stamp on the back was visible. I recognized the numbers: 54 199. Thirty milligrams of Roxicodone—yep, that’d do the fucking trick like a charm. I didn’t want to take them, but I knew I needed to. I threw the pills to the back of my throat and chugged away.

“You really should be at the hospital. You’re going to need x-rays,” she said, more to her brother than to me.

“No docs, dude, please.” My aching pleas sounded so childish.

Two men I didn’t know came through the side door of Kane’s house. They were both wearing cuts matching the one on Buck’s back. It had been a little over a year since we both got out of the Marines, and even longer than that since we had seen each other. A lot can change in a year.

The taller one of the two pointed over to me. “How’s he doing?”

Buck grabbed beers out of the fridge while answering. “He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll live. Thanks for helping me get him over here.”

The older of the men sat down in front of me, looking closely at my eyes. “Think you have a concussion, son.”

Ava nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep him up for a while and make sure he doesn’t die on us.”

“Trent, this is Rave and Abel. They’re the president and vice president of my club’s charter in North Carolina. They’re going to take you back with them.”

“What? Why?” My eyes flew open. Who did Buck think he was making decisions like that for me?

“Because you need to dry the fuck out and you’re not going to be able to do it in Killeen. Trust me, brother, this is for the best. Once you’re good to travel, you’re heading east.”

* * *

Sitting in church the next day, around the table without Abel sitting at the head was all too surreal. In his place sat Ryder, his son-in-law.

Bear cleared his throat. “As the president of the Atlanta charter, I want to officially extend my condolences to each and every one of you. Abel was one of the best men I had the pleasure of knowing and he will be missed immensely.”

Holt nodded to Bear. “Thank you, brother.” He turned to look at the rest of us before continuing, “There is a lot that has been kept from this club but the secrets end now. Ryder, Bear and I have spoken a great deal about everything that happened leading up to Abel’s death and it needs to be shared with the club.”

Ryder put his hand on Holt’s shoulder and then added, “This information should not affect your memories of our fallen king. Abel was a great man and always had the best interest of this club in his heart.”

Bear stood and started to pace. “This is not going to be easy for me to explain but I am going to do my best. Before I begin, please know that, not all dealings having to do directly with this tragedy have been terminated, by myself, Holt, and Kane Buckley. For those of you who do not know Kane, he is the president now of the charter in Killeen, Texas.”

My mind tripped back to my old friend and that day that he saved my life with Abel and Rave. I had no idea that he had moved up the ranks that quickly.

Bear continued, “I got wind of a heroin and cocaine shortage up the coast. I set up suppliers and delivery systems but it was all too much for just my chapter to be able to handle. Abel came into this deal as my number two. I had no idea that the Sinners were the original suppliers in y’all’s area. This is and will always be on me. Their retaliation was in response to a number of situations, but mainly the loss of the drug business and that income. Abel and I became aware of their involvement when one of our larger shipments went missing.”

He hung his head, sucking in a deep, sharp breath. “I should have stopped all dealings then and figured out another way to clean up this mess, but we just kept working our deals and my guys were able to recover that lost shipment before it left Georgia. That was when I decided to come up here and help y’all out. Abel and I still thought we had it under control. We should never have been so arrogant to think that we could handle this on our own. Holt was not even aware of most of the things I have just told you.”

He took his seat again and lit a cigarette.

“Fuck you!” Red leapt to his feet. “You’re the reason Abel is dead and you think that just because you wear the same patch as us that you can sit at this table.”

“Red, sit your fucking ass down.” Ryder’s eyes were narrowed. I could see his hands shaking a bit.

“We all have done things that we regret. Most of us have done even worse shit than this in our lifetimes.” Holt was always the damn voice of reason. “We need to move forward, not go at each other’s throats. That’s how those sons-of-bitches will actually win.”

“What is the plan?” I asked.

“We are going to lay low. We will not continue this violence now. There is too much at stake and we are wounded. We all need time to heal and pick the pieces back up. Bear is going to head back to Atlanta. If he hears of any other threat or something related to this, he will report directly to me on the matter and I will bring it to this table right away. No one will be kept in the dark from this moment on. We will keep moving forward and play out the cards as they are dealt.” With that, Ryder slammed the gavel down onto the wooden table and that was that.