Runaway ✔

011 • Dana

Not much later they brought her to a small room. There stood a large table with chairs around it. In the middle of the table was a reaper carved, with in his right hand a gun that ended in a sickle, and in his left something round with an anarchy symbol.

Although there were two empty chairs, she understood only club members were allowed to sit down. Most likely not many non-members entered this room.

And so she was standing with her back against the wall, while the men sat around the table. With a few words, Jax had summarized the situation: that Unser had paid the club a visit with an APB for murder.

After those words, all heads turned to Dana and she wished she could become invisible. Her eyes were itching, but the last thing she wanted now was crying. Then they would grow tired of her soon.

"Is it true?" Clay asked. "Did you kill someone?"

It took all her effort not to look the other way. Stay strong, Dana. Come on.

Opie, who sat only a meter away from her, shove back his chair and pointed to his knee. "Come, sit here. You won't have to stand against the wall as if you're a fucking jailbird."

His words caused a little smile on her face, even though they weren't very appropriate now she was about the confess a murder.

Reluctantly she walked to him and dropped on his knee. He already knows what I have done, she realized. And he's not judging me. He's still supporting me.

A little unsteady she looked at the president. "I indeed killed Casper. He – he was my friend. But also Maddox's brother." She swallowed when grief bothered her anyway. Despite everything, he had always been a bright spot, there in that house. How bizarre it might sound. "He was carrying a gun while he guarded the house. He – he thought about letting me escape several times, but he backed down every time, afraid of how his brother would react. Yesterday I tried again. And when he apologized... I grabbed his gun and shot him in the head. I ran away, stole Maddox's bike and fled. In here."

While talking she had moved her glance to the table.

"And the gun?" Jax asked. "Did you take it?"

"Dunno," she whispered. "I panicked. It all happened so fast. I was shocked by my own actions, I think I have thrown it away."

Opie softly rubbed her back. A soft vibration went through her chest. Oh, how she had longed for a comforting gesture like this.

"Guess they found it," Jax concluded. "Your fingerprints included."

"They haven't," she mumbled. "He gave it to them."

A silence fell.

"What's the difference?" Tig asked. "The outcome seems the same."

She shook her head. "He will never allow me to go to prison. That means he got the cops in his pocket, who have advanced equipment, who have access to everything..." A drop of sweat glided down her neck. "And if that Unser-guy can stop by so easily, establishing a link between my brother and me..." Panic suddenly grabbed her by the throat. "They will come. And they will recognize me. And..."

"And then we'll blow them to pieces," Happy interrupted her with a grim face. "All's well that ends well."

Some men chuckled. Dana bowed her head, she felt like she wasn't taken seriously. They had to see that wasn't a real option, right? She could already imagine how the bodies would pile up in the clubhouse.

"Don't wanna be rude..." Bobby involved in the debate. He leaned with both arms on the table. "But do you really think he's getting into so much trouble to get you back? Won't he just grab another girl?"

"I am not his girl." She felt the blood ringing in her ears. "I was his property. A tool. I was his. He'll never accept that I'll belong to someone else, not even the prison system!"

She wiped her eyes. The man had become silent. Even the toughest of them showed shocked faces. Happy had bowed his head and stared at the table. As was Juice, she noticed. He understood now why she had acted so paranoidly.

It was Jax who picked up the conversation again. "Then we have to be patient, to slowly enter his world, until we'll find a way to put a bullet in his head."

Chibs, who sat next to her, bend over and tapped her knee. "We'll get the bastard, lass, mark my words," he promised with his typical Scottish accent.

She looked at him, at the scar that dominated his face like a carved grin, and wondered if he had also sworn that to the man who did this to him.

"You get her a new identity, Juice?" Jax asked.

The man looked up, shortly peeked at her and nodded. "Will do."

"And Unser? What about him?" Opie asked.

"We'll have to tell him the truth," his friend answered. "So that he can keep an eye on his colleagues. If they've any suspicions she's here, we can take her to a safe house."

"Maybe we should already do so. Just in case," Bobby suggested.

She froze. If she had to spend all days on her own, with one guard at most, she would freak out. Still, she couldn't bear to protest. How could she put all their lives in danger for the sake of her freedom?

"She has been locked up long enough," Opie said. He must have felt her resistance. "As long as she's not facing immediate danger, she can stay here."

"Fine. Happy, inform Unser. Make sure he knows what's going on in that shitpile you're coming from. Juice, get her a new ID." With a bang with the gavel Clay ended the meeting.