Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Briella looks up at him, and then with a deep, sharp breath, she nods. "Okay."
"We need to find Samson, get him in here, and tell him what we know. Don't give him a chance to know it's comin'. The only way we're going to play this is if he suspects nothin'. I'll beat it out of him if I have to, but we are goin' to get him to lead us right to her."
I nod and turn towards the door. "I'll get him."
"I can get him," Karen says, shrugging. "I just saw him before, and we were chatting. I'll ask him if he can help me with something."
I look to her. "No offense, Karen, but you ain't part of this club. He isn't your brother. He's ours. I'm goin' to get him. You shouldn't even be in this room."
I turn and walk out, hearing her mumbling something. I stride down the halls with purpose. I don't want to scare him off, but I also have to make sure he comes with me. I find him sittin' at the bar, shooting back a shot of tequila. He swallows it down, his face scrunching harshly, and then he turns and glances at me.
"Brother," he murmurs.
"How's it goin'?" I ask him, sitting down and waving my hand for a shot, too.
The barmaid - a tiny, half-dressed thing - smiles and saunters over to get us another shot.
"It's goin'," he murmurs. "You?"
"Yeah. We got some leads on Zariah. Pres wants us all in there to hear the plan. You good for that?"
"He callin' church?"
It feels like a knife to the guts when he looks at me. Like a fuckin' burning poker, bein' plunged into my soul. He's my brother. My friend. Why would he fuckin' do this to us?
Why?
We moved out together when we were younger, fuck, he's been in my life since we were young men. Knew him for so fuckin' long. Never knew much about his family, he always told us he had nothin' to do with them. Was that a lie all these fuckin' years? Why now, too? Why would he choose now to come in and fuck this club up? I guess we're about to get our answers.
"Yeah, let's roll."
I take the shot, he takes one, too, and we get up and walk out of the building towards the sheds.
I feel some hesitation from him, but he follows me all the same. We reach the sheds and find a seat. A minute or two later, Alarick, Cohen, and Bohdi walk in. We usually put Mykel on Facetime for this, but we're not goin' to now because if he finds this out, he'll lose it.
Waverly will come chargin' in here wantin' to find her sister.
Right now, we can't risk any of that.
"Brothers," Alarick says, glancing at Samson as he walks closer.
Bohdi shuts the door and locks it.
Samson glances over at it. "Where's everyone else?"
Before he can say or do another thing, Alarick and Cohen have guns on him. It only takes a split second, but the look on his face is pure guilt as he stares at them. He knows they know. He's not even tryin' to act surprised. He drops his head, his big shoulders sagging, and it fuckin' breaks my heart. It kills me to know that he has done this to us. It kills me to know it's breakin' him apart so heavily.
He's tired.
Worn down.
Broken.
"Why?" Alarick demands, his voice so low, so broken, it fuckin' feels like a knife to the heart.
Samson shakes his head, his hair falling around him as he hangs his head. "You'd never understand. If you're goin' to kill me, do it now, Alarick."
"You do not get away with it that easily," Alarick roars, slamming the gun over Samson's head in a wild rage. Then he lunges at him, and the two of them crash onto the floor. "You fuckin' tell me why? Why would you turn against your whole fuckin' club? Tell me!"
Alarick drives a fist into Samson's face. Over and over again.
He doesn't move.
Even when blood spurts from his mouth.
He doesn't fuckin' move.
"Enough," I bark, leaning down with Cohen and hauling Alarick up. "This ain't getting' Zariah back. You cool it, Pres. You gotta fuckin' use your brain."
Alarick is panting as Samson slowly gets to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, and a large gash on his head.
"Why?" Alarick rasps.
"He has my daughter."
For a moment, we all stare at him. Shocked. Confused. He has a daughter? Since fuckin' when has Samson had a daughter? We've never, not ever, seen him in a relationship. How the fuck does he have a daughter?
"Explain," Cohen growls. "Do it fast before we kill you."
Samson exhales, making a gurgling sound. He wipes the blood away from his mouth with his leather jacket. "When I was fifteen, I met a girl. She was older than me, maybe by two or three years. I was young and dumb, and I was in a fuckin' shit family. There's a reason you never knew about my past, about my family. I came to that club a broken man, and King took me in. That was where my past ended."