Dead-Eye Angels MC (Book #1)

Chapter 37 Threats and Retribution Part 2

Song: In the Air Tonight - Song by Phil Collins

I'm dazed, like I've been sucker-punched in the gut. The fact that Shanice is missing hits me like a ton of bricks. It's been weeks since I last laid eyes on her, weeks filled with clashes with the Crest Goons and helping the families at the cul-de-sac. I had no inkling she was gone, and that ignorance gnaws at me now, a mix of fear and guilt that's tough to admit. Fear because I know what kind of bastard Bryan is. He wasn't my Enforcer for nothing. Guilt, because I should have seen it coming. Bryan is like a dog with a bone, relentless and stubborn as fuck. It's not a good sign.

With a nervous pit in my stomach, I slam the club's door open and fire off a text to gather all the Dead-Eye members, old and new, here within an hour. This place, the Dead-Eye Angels' home, carries a weighty atmosphere this cold afternoon, and I can't help but think it's gonna get worse before it gets better.

I call Bryan. If the Dragons sought me out before targeting Bryan, it means they can't find him. And if there's one thing I can count on, it's Bryan showing up for a Dead-Eye meeting, member or not. An hour drags by, and Bryan, that motherfucker, doesn't respond. I've tried calling him multiple times, but nothing. The silence on the other end fuels my suspicions. He's not answering for a reason. He's involved.

In the dimly lit room, I gather the members, a mix of the old guard, loyal through thick and thin, and the fresh recruits who often challenge my authority. The tension is palpable, the air charged with uncertainty.

"The Dragons, a New York-based gang, have set foot in our city," I declare, not mincing any words. My gaze sweeps around the room, and their faces remain blank, but a storm is brewing beneath. "They've taken our Vice-President out of commission because of Bryan's recklessness." The members exchange uneasy glances, the implication clear — Bryan has fucked up bad.

The murmurs grow louder as the unrest spreads. Some members insist we shouldn't let outsiders dictate our moves. The feeling of mutiny simmers in the room, threatening to explode.

I slam my hand on the bar table. It shudders, a warning to anyone considering defying my orders. "Enough! This is my order: if anyone has any information, they speak up now, or the Dead-Eye Angels as we know it will be a thing of the past."

Some members fall in line, but others remain defiant. They don't trust me as the old-timers trusted my grandfather when he was President. Their insubordination boils my blood. It's a stark contrast to the days when the word of the Dylan name was law, unquestioned, and absolute.

Frustration reaches its boiling point when I can no longer tolerate the dissent. "This is my order. If anyone opposes it," I growl, "they'll face the barrel of my gun." With deliberate menace, I move toward the loudest shit stain and make an example of him and knock several of his teeth out with my Desert Eagle. Awkward silence follows as I toss the Prospects's body to the ground; if they won't respect me, they'll fear me.

My thoughts circle back to Bryan. In the past, it would have been him straightening out this mess. Now, he's the cause of it. I turn to Daniel, knowing that Bryan's cousin must have some idea about where he's hiding out.

"Daniel," I bark, my veins almost exploding from my temples, "do you know where the hell your cousin is?" My knuckles whiten as I clench his shirt, the fabric bunching under my grip. I've never been so frustrated, so damn close to snapping someone's neck as I am right now.

He shakes his head as if he couldn't be bothered. "I don't know, Prez," he mutters, the words slipping from his lips with an unsettling casualness.

"What do you mean you don't know? You've been hanging with him," I hiss through gritted teeth, drawing close, our faces inches apart. Daniel's eyes narrow. He knows something.

"I've let it slide because you two are family," I continue, my grip on his shirt becoming a vise, pulling him closer. "But you better tell me everything you know, or you'll be more than sorry."

He tries to prie my hands off him, but I hold tighter. After a moment of resistance, Daniel spills, his voice quivering. "I swear, I don't know. He's been acting crazier than usual, always muttering some insane revenge scheme. It's been ever since you laid into him after he came by the other night."

I barely remember the details of that incident. It's all a blur, a consequence of getting high on my own product. I curse my own hazy memory, realizing how much is at stake.

Other members chime in, their faces mirroring the worry that's been nagging at my conscience. They confirm that Bryan's become unpredictable, always ranting about some black chick haunting him... Shanice.

I reluctantly let go of Daniel. With no other leads to pursue, I bark out orders, "Find the bastard and bring him to me!" My voice echoes through the room, cutting through the tension and doubt in the air. The room erupts into action as everyone scrambles to find our former brother.

I'm the last to leave, the rumble of my bike fading into the night as I head deep into the city. My search drags me to the shadiest parts of Atlanta, to the darkest corners where Bryan lurks.

While the odds of finding him are slimmer than a razor's edge. Bryan's predictability is our only lead. His presence is like a festering scar, oozing fear, and hushed whispers wherever he goes. The girl he raped and beat, the one Kade had to intervene for during my absence, hasn't been the same since.

My mind races back to how that Noeru guy effortlessly hacked off Kade's finger, no hesitation, no remorse. If that's his reaction to a slight against his wife, I clench my teeth, dreading what he'd unleash upon us if anything were to happen to Shanice, or, God forbid, if she's no longer among the living."

The hours pass by, and I make my way back to the club. Every corner, every hole, scoured, yet still no sign of Bryan. My worry for Shanice deepens with each passing minute, coiling in my gut like a tightening noose. She's out there somewhere... with Bryan, and him doing the unthinkable to her. The last time they crossed paths, it ended badly for Shanice. I try to shake the memories off. If Bryan so much as lays a finger on her, I swear he'll face a reckoning like no other.

A Prospect approaches me, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His eyes dart nervously as he moves closer. I slowly set the cold, neglected beer I've been clutching onto the scarred bar. This better be damned important.

Is Nate's concern primarily driven by Bryan's actions against Shanice, or is it his fear of the Dragons potentially erasing the Dead-Eye Angels from existence? Let me know in the comments.