But it’s not him I’m mad at. It’s me.
If it weren’t for him, both Jax and I would be spending the rest of our lives in prison. How’s that for friendship?
I’m out of line being mad at him. But it’s so hard being looked down on by Hunter. I’d fucking die for him before anyone else.
I stop in the middle of the lot and turn to him, the bright sun hitting me directly in the eyes so I don’t see more than his outline, and extend my hand.
“I haven’t thanked you properly yet for pulling me back before I made the biggest mistake of my life,” I say. “So thank you.”
He scoffs and shakes my hand. “Don’t mention it. What are brothers for if not that, am I right?”
He doesn’t mean it as a jab, not entirely anyway, he’s not that kind of guy, but it still pierces.
“Don’t you ever get sick of doing everything right?” I snap at him.
Suddenly, it’s as though I’m outside my body, looking at us in the white light of the empty parking lot, and I can see myself clearly as I try to start a stupid teenager-style fight. I’ve asked him this same question a lot over the years. Even when he fucks up he does the right thing. As for me, I just fuck up.
“Let’s just leave it at how grateful you are to me, Chance.” The grimace on his face tells me he’s more sick of hearing it than his tone is suggesting.
He strides off towards our bikes and by the time I follow, the roar of his is already echoing across the lot. It’s for the best. I’m in no mood for talking, which is exactly why I would’ve ignored a text or even a call summoning me to this meeting at Sanctuary. Cross and Tank were right to send Hunter. And I’d be wrong whatever I did. As usual.
At least thirty percent of my foul mood flakes away as I rev up my bike and feel it come to life beneath me. I don’t have a memory of a time before this powerful and freeing sensation was a part of my life. My father started taking me on rides before I could walk.
But thinking about that isn’t doing much to settle my bad mood. So, I just concentrate on the humming of the bike and the spring air in my face and hair as I make the short ride up Resolution Hill and the mansion that was and is my true home.
Hunter is waiting for me in the open area in front of the huge, double-sided wooden doors leading into the sprawling stone building that was a rest and recuperation hospital of some sort before it became the HQ of Devil’s Nightmare MC. A veil of tranquility still hangs over the house and vast, wild gardens encircling it, despite it being home to a band of killers for almost a century now.
“They’re in Cross’ office,” Hunter tells me as I dismount, but he hangs back as I pass him and enter the building. I stop before entering the marble lined lobby and look back at him. “You’re not coming?”
He shakes his head. “It’s all you today, Chance.”
It sounds like it was all him on some other day, and that it wasn’t a good day, but that makes no sense.
I shrug and enter the house on my own. For some reason, it’s so quiet I can hear the wind whooshing through the open windows in the hallways upstairs and the whispers of all the noise this house was full of back in the day, when me and my brothers and sisters had the run of the place as children.
I suppose it’s time for the next generation now.
But no one much shares my view on that. Least of all the two men I find in Cross’ office, lounging in the black leather armchairs that take up a part of the room.
“Close the door, Chance,” Cross says curtly, while my father, Tank, just sits up straighter in his chair and glares at me.
We’ve had a bunch of discussions about all I did wrong lately already, so I have no idea why they summoned me today.
“What’s up?” I ask as I close the door behind me.
“Less talking and more listening, Chance,” Tank says and points at the empty sofa that matches the two armchairs they’re occupying. “Sit down.”
I’m not gonna lie to myself, I wish Hunter was in here with me.
The coldness of the leather seeps through the thick fabric of my jeans and makes a shiver run down my back.
I open my mouth to say something—something clever and stupid at the same time, no doubt—but the hard black look in Cross’ eyes stops me before I even come up with it.
“I’m not gonna give you another lecture on how bad you messed up, Chance,” he says curtly. “By now, I’m sure you understand.”
I nod and manage to keep quiet despite myself, even though I feel like I’m twelve years old all over again and I don’t appreciate that.
“It’s time for you to decide whether you’re one of us, son,” Tank says his soft tone taking me completely by surprise. He chuckles as I look up at him in alarm, they both do.