The Disciples unloaded their guns into the house. Being made out of cheap stucco, large chunks of the house were ripped off of the sides, showing the gray of the concrete beneath. Windows were shot out, the broken glass littering the sandy lawn like glitter. He could hear some yelling inside, but not nearly as much as he thought that there should be. There were dozens of bikes parked outside, where was everyone?

 

Julian whooped as he aimed his gun and shot again, Griffin could also see Bombay and Big Mack in the fray, happily firing into the clubhouse. Griffin wondered if Natasha was safe and waiting for him, and he wondered if she was worried. From what he could see everything seemed pretty cut and dry here, and all he wanted to really do was go back to that motel.

 

Finally, shots were beginning to fire back, and he could hear the rapid fire of the Los Diablos calling to each other inside the house. He heard the yell of someone as they were hit, and suddenly heard the whisper a bullet as it flew past his ear. The closeness of getting shot exhilarated him, and he grinned that teeth baring grin that came from the excitement of the kill. Griffin made a movement for them to fall back in order to draw some of the enemy out. Any minute now the second group would come to back them up. Either way though, Griffin was getting a little antsy.

 

“Let’s go in!” he called to Julian, who nodded and moved into position beside Griffin. Running forward, Griffin kicked in the door to reveal the inside of the clubhouse. The bullets had destroyed the inside of the house, and he could see one of the men scurrying through the house to go out the back. Griffin went in pursuit, running him down and shooting him in the back. The man scream and fell in the dirt, and Griffin turned back to see if there was anyone else in the house.

 

It was almost empty, and Griffin could hear the shooting still going on outside. Something was wrong. Something was incredibly wrong.

 

Griffin eased the walkie-talkie out of his pocket again and clicked it on. The static greeted him.

 

“Damon?” Griffin asked. His voice belied his worry a little too much for his liking. “You guys there? We need wave two.”

 

He caught a glimpse of another member of the Los Diablos and shot, only to see the man continue to run. As the enemy turned around to shoot at Griffin, Griffin realized with a growing sense of horror that he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

 

“Holy shit…Damon! Come in!”

 

The Los Diablos had been warned.

 

But by whom?

 

“Damon!” He almost crushed the walkie-talkie in his hands they were shaking so badly. They were betrayed, and he had a growing feeling that he knew who had done it.

 

Suddenly, the shooting outside grew louder, more frenzied. He could hear the horrified screams of the men outside and immediately ran. Stopping in the doorway of the Los Diablos’ clubhouse, he saw with a terrific sense of horror that they were now being attacked from behind. A large group of Los Diablos members began to shoot. Whooping and yelling with the joy of the ambush, they drove the Disciples back against the shot out shell of their old clubhouse. Griffin was already there, and he knew in that terrible moment that they were beaten.

 

The rival club stared everyone down with amused looks on their faces, and Griffin could barely contain his rage.

 

To make matters worse, however, Griffin saw that the person standing in the front of all of this, his mouth twisted into a triumphant grin, was Damon.

 

The Los Diablos looked to Damon for instruction, as the Disciples stood there with looks of confusion on their faces. Damon broke the line he had made with his new men, walking up and down and studying the bleeding and ragged Disciples. Narrowing his eyes, he peered into the face of the skinny biker named Dex. Dex look back at him with a defiance that filled Griffin with pride. Damon was unimpressed, he took a step back, pointed, and said, “Kill him.”

 

One of the Los Diablos lifted his gun and fired. Griffin bit back a cry of rage as Dex crumbled to the ground.

 

Julian was nowhere to be seen, and maybe that was for the best. Griffin hoped that he had noticed what happened and hid. This was no time to be foolhardy or brave; this was a time for survival. Damon looked down at the still body of Dex and nodded with satisfaction, before looking pointing out five other men to be executed in the same fashion. Bombay went next.

 

“Good,” Damon said after the killing was done. He made his way down the line until he stood in front of Griffin, who stared back at him and refused to blink.

 

“Do you surrender?” Damon asked, his voice touched with that annoying sense of reasonableness.

 

So many emotions warred in Griffin’s heart, especially as he remembered the dead bodies of his friends littering the ground only a few feet away from him. Damon’ betrayal… he should have seen it coming, right? God, he hoped that Natasha was okay.

 

His silence seemed to annoy Damon as his smile grew wider to cover it.

 

“If you don’t surrender, I will kill more of you.”

 

Griffin knew that he was not lying, and in spite of his growing, terrible annoyance, in spite of how much he wished that he did not have to give this asshole the satisfaction, he nodded slowly and said, “I surrender.”

 

Damon grinned. “Good, I like it when you are reasonable.”