Gunfire. I'd familiarised myself with it fairly early in life but as the pop, pop, pop of the machine sounded near the back of the make-shift clubhouse my instincts flared.
"What the fuck is happening?", Prez rubbed the sleep out of his face.
"I don't know". I clenched and unclenched my fingers around the cold steel of my gun and moved to circle around the back to get a read on the situation.
As suddenly as it had began, the firing ceased. I only hastened in my approach towards the front of the building. If it stopped, they've got what they came here for.
Imagine my surprise when I saw both Ghost and Shadow standing with a large group of men as if waiting for us to show. The prospects stood in formation in front of the clubhouse, guns loaded.
"We come in peace, Disciples", Shadow grinned and I raised my weapon to stare at him from above the barrel because for a moment he looked at me as if he knew exactly where I crouched against the building. "We're here on Beretta's orders"
I could feel Don's reprimanding glare as I stepped out of the shadows at once. The prospects and members near me also stood to flank me as I quickly walked to stand only a few paces away.
"Beretta?"
"Yeah, Ber, she left me a coded message. I'm here with the packages she requested" Ghost motioned towards a regal looking man who lifted a single scarred eyebrow in my direction. "This is Damien"
The man looked to be silently brooding from underneath the hood and baseball cap he wore. Still, the waves of danger seeping from his being shouldn't have taken me so long to identify. Especially when he aimed a notorious pair of electric blue eyes on me and over the men behind me.
"Damien?", I echoed cluelessly...before it dawned.
"Damien Salvatore", I raised my gun only to find about 10 barrels in my face.
"Is there a reason you brought the Italian heir here?", Psycho stood across from me with more bikers all with their guns trained on the group.
"Oh, the Russians are also here", a tall man approached from the gates and on closer examination I noticed the pink burnt skin on the left side of his neck continued into his shirt. Despite his built frame, he looked to be lightly floating towards our group of gun wielding men.
The heir of the Russian mafia paid the violence no heed even when the group of men behind him- surprise, surprise- lifted their guns at us in greeting. He introduced himself with an almost gleeful expression. "Roman Mikhailov"
"Glad you made it", Shadow nodded in greeting. "Now, how about we all try to converse like civilised people. Can we do that, Blaze?"
"Of course, of course" Prez appeared next to me and clapped my shoulder. "VP, stand down. Why don't we head inside, gentlemen?"
Aside from the harsh grinding of Don's molars, no one objected as we led the men inside. Prez, the two heirs, Shadow and Ghost sat at the largest table while the rest of us remained standing, on edge.
Until Prez pulled me into the only remaining seat next to him. "I just received a message from her"
"So, I received a message from Beretta about 48 hours ago. She told me to and I quote 'Bring the packages to the Reaper's Disciples'" Ghost scratched at his newly acquired beard.
"We'd discussed the exact mode of actions we were to take should she send that. I was to call in the favours Beretta owes the two mafia heirs. And I did", Shadow said as he smirked watching the two heirs grimace at the word 'favours'.
"I owed her. So, here I am". Damien Salvatore shrugged before looking at Roman expectantly.
"What he means to say is that Beretta was given the target to assassinate both of us by Crow. She chose to make alliances instead of kills and bargained for reinforcements right in the middle of my compound with dozens of guns trained at her", Roman chuckled and seemed to be reminiscing with an almost adoring glint in his eyes.
Then he smirked. "And unlike Damien here, I'm not ashamed to admit that I owe my life to Beretta
"Sure does sound like her", Prez said as Psycho and Don nodded in agreement. Me?
My brain couldn't catch up with what had happened in under 3 days. My life had become unidentifiable. First, Rose leaves. Then sends fucking mafia heirs to support the club from what I'm assuming.
I've gone from loathing the woman- from loathing every action and mannerism and look of hers- to missing each and every of those things. From constantly comparing her to Raven to not being able to care the slightest bit when it comes to anyone but her.
Then, I remembered.
"Wait, wait, wait. She left because you both had been kidnapped", I pointed frantically at Shadow and Ghost who paled a second later. Realisation entered their gaze as they both looked at each other while I sat there waiting, waiting, waiting for an answer. Anything to make it make sense. Anything.
"Yes, I was about to ask that. Beretta would only surrender if someone she cared for was in danger", Prez rubbed at his forehead.
Shadow and Ghost both seemed to be in disbelief. "She would, wouldn't she?"
"She absolutely would. Gets it from our Father".Prez seemed to be working something out as he pulled at his beard hair "Makes sense now-"
"She's your sister?!"
"Your what now?"
YOU ARE READING
Beretta (MC#1)
حركة (أكشن)Beretta Rose. Assassin. Thief. And simply a bitch to others. No one knows who she is. What she looks like. Whether she is a woman or a man. They know nothing. But when she is on a mission to the Reaper's disciples territory what she doesn't expect...
