I needed to hear his voice.
To know that he was safe.
Montana
St. John’s Presbyterian Hospital, New York.
It took a few hours, but the first responders found him.
Somehow, that lucky son of a bitch survived a seven-story building falling on him. He was barely hanging on, but he was alive. Now it was up to Valhalla to make sure he stayed that way. With Bane off doing God knows what, Valhalla was the only doctor we could technically trust.
If that bitch knew what was good for her, she’d better fucking make sure the kid survived.
“Mercy,” I muttered, looking about the room. “Send out an alert to all the chapters. Clubs are on lockdown.”
“Already did, brother,” Mercy whispered. “But the only one who has responded is the Alabama Chapter. Something is going on, boss, and I don’t like it. What about the Golden Skulls?”
“They won’t listen to me.”
“Until Reaper hears Sypher’s fate, he won’t think clearly, and you know it. You need to call Ghost and let him know so he can lock down the clubhouse.”
He was right.
Right now, Reaper was sitting next to Ace, Chipper, and Trout. All four men looked worse for wear, but the solemn looks in their eyes told me all I needed to know. They only cared about Sypher.
This was a massive clusterfuck.
With Reaper out until Sypher’s fate was known, that left me to handle what would come next and it didn’t take a fucking genius to figure that shit out.
Standing up straighter, I squared my shoulders and said, “Listen up, everyone. I figure we have less than an hour before this shit hits the airwaves. Until we know what Sypher’s fate is, we have to think preemptively. I’m locking down the clubhouse. Reaper, I need your permission to call Ghost so he can do the same.”
Reaper nodded, rubbing his hands down his face. “Have him contact the Tennessee Chapter too.”
“Mercy, make the fucking call,” I ordered as my VP already had his phone to his ear. “The rest of you, I want this floor secured. Only hospital personnel working to save Sypher is allowed on this floor. Fury, go find the hospital administrator and pave the way. Give him whatever he fucking wants.”
But before Fury could move an inch, Maxim Fedorov walked into the waiting room and sneered, “It’s all over the news. The table got an anonymous call. They know Sypher was in the building. They issued the order. Ten million for the first person to kill Sypher.”
“Fuck,” I sighed as Reaper grinned.
“So, war it is.”
Looking at the Golden Skulls’ president, I nodded. “They want a fucking war, then let’s give them one.”
Over the next few hours, Reaper and I started making calls, issuing orders and formulating a plan, when Valhalla walked into the waiting room looking like total dog shit.
“He’s alive.”
“Can he be moved?” I interrupted, not needing to hear anything else. Alive was alive in my book and that’s all that mattered.
“No, he can’t be fucking moved, you inconsiderate ass. I had a fucking drill in his head not even an hour ago to relieve the pressure on his brain. That’s not mentioning all the other shit we had to do to keep him alive!”
“Is he stable?” I sneered.
“For now, but he’s in critical condition.”
“Then we are moving him.”
“No, you are not.” Ace glared, slowly looking up at me. “He’s my brother and as Bailey, Charlie and I are the only blood family Danny has here, we decide what happens with our brother. Not you or Reaper.”
