Page 4 of Ruger's Rage
My three brothers are waiting around the redwood table, their expressions grave.
They know something serious has gone down. They just don't know what.
I motion for my brothers to follow me, and we head into church.
Before anyone has sat down, I pull up my phone and show them the damage.
Bloodhound is the first to break the silence, his normally stoic expression cracking as he takes in Aunt Ellie's battered face.
His voice is deadly quiet. "Who?"
I meet his gaze steadily. "Striker."
It’s almost like the entire room goes even quieter, everyone processing this information.
Accusing the President is a death sentence in most MCs.
But our club—the Saint's Outlaws—we pride ourselves by having a code: you don't fuck with your women.
Some clubs turn a blind eye, but not ours.
"She's been the mother of this club for twenty years," I say, my voice carrying in the silence. "She bandaged your wounds, fed you when you were broke, bailed you out of jail." I pause, letting the words sink in. "And this is how he repays her."
Maddox, our enforcer, grunts, clearly furious.
He's a mountain of a man, covered in tattoos that tell the story of a violent life, but he's the most gentle among us. "This wasn't the first time."
It's not a question, and no one argues with him.
We all know it wasn't the first time.
I clear my throat. "You know her. She didn't want to cause any trouble."
"She's family," Ounce says firmly. He's a man of few words, but when he speaks, everyone listens. "Family doesn't do this to family."
"I'm calling church," I announce. "I want everyone here. A full fucking table in one hour."
Maddox looks up sharply. "That means Striker will be here too."
"I'm counting on it."
What I'm proposing is nothing short of a coup—a direct challenge to my uncle's patch.
It's the kind of move that starts wars between charters, the kind of shit that usually gets men killed.
Bloodhound warns. "He'll fight this."
"Let him."
The next hour passes in a blur and I get a text from Aunt Ellie.
I know where you are, and God knows what you're up to. I'll be at the clubhouse in fifteen minutes.
As much as I want her to stay at my place, I understand why she wants to do this.
She wants to face my uncle herself, with the backing of the club behind her.
She arrives and comes up to me, wrapping me in a big hug, and doesn't say a word.
