Chapter 3- Him

4.5K 105 1
                                    



He's never waking up, I thought, not after all that fucking booze.

The girl was a completely different story. She fainted at the most inconvenient of times possible. And then woke up at an even more of an inconvenient time I hadn't thought possible; right when she was being prodded for the bullet in her shoulder.

"Cut out the fucking screaming!", I yelled over the noise as the whole club gathered around to calm and console Prez's savior. Not that It was needed. This wasn't her first time being shot, one could tell from how she wasn't creating a scene with screaming and tears unlike her very loud and very angry friend, apparently a cousin of Harlow- and a giant sack-full of emotional mess just like Harlow. Gotta love them club women.

"Hound, Maddog go and stand guard outside Prez's room. Let Raven know of your presence. No harm comes to them, no matter what", I was sure this was unnecessary because Raven was quite capable of taking out anyone even coming close to her husband after tonight's assassination attempt. But those two were from the handful of people that could be trusted with the President's safety. Not that anyone would be stupid enough to breach the walls of this clubhouse with a previously failed assassination attempt, that would just be suicidal.

"Jules, darling, keep it down, would you? Your screeching hurts worse than this piece of metal digging in my shoulder", wise words. Even as she winces from the forceps going a little too deep, I can't help but notice her pouty lips. How soft they must be. How they would feel wrapped around my-

No.

Hell no. What an asshole I am being right now. The damned woman is wincing in pain after taking a bullet for the club and I am imagining her-

"Someone get me a fucking whiskey. Fuck, ow. What's your name?", a glance at his cut. "Doc, darling, can you hurry up? I have places to be, things to do. Shit like that", Doc just nods completely focused on the complicated task at hand while she focuses on the ceiling.

"You die and I'll fucking kill you, bitch", Julia screams at her already wounded friend shrugging off her cousin holding her back from the scene.

"Jesus chill lady, she's fine. See-" , Wrath is rudely interrupted before he can continue

"Where's my fucking drink?", she screams in pain.

All men present jump to action and Tank of all people hands her the tall glass of whiskey which she gulps down like apple juice. I take back that thing about unneeded consolation. Not that any amount of consolation would stop her from cursing up a storm. Her calm nature was probably the shock, I realize.

"Found it", Doc drops the bullet in a bowl of water and I'm instantly there checking the bullet for engraving and holding it up to the light for any clue as to which gun it was shot from.

"Okay, that's smart. No engravings, Dagger", I walk a bit farther from the bed and show the tiny, fatal piece of metal to him. The weapon's expert seals the bullet in a clear plastic bag and exits the crowded infirmary room to no doubt examine the bullet with more attention.

Turning around I see Doc stitching up the girl and Julia clinging on to her uninjured side crying as if she was the one shot. Suddenly, I really don't want to be here. Now comes the time for talks and communication is not really my forte.

"Get them both an accommodation here tonight. Look after her wound and she is not to leave until the President sees her", I quietly order the prospect outside the infirmary to which he just nods. Smart man.

I head back to the bar, which is empty, thinking of things on my agenda and putting things in order of how urgent they are.

Prez's safety. Club's safety. Possible lockdown. Gun shipment.

Beretta (MC#1)Where stories live. Discover now