how shitty people think.
So, no matter what happens today or in the future, I will never trust the Volkshalberd.
“It is what it is,” Gunther tells Bronco. “I can no more force my will on the torch bearer than a man can force the sun to rise in the west.”
Bronco rolls his eyes. “You bow to a vain weakling, Gunther. There’s no honor in kissing his ass, so skip the bullshit about the world forcing your hand. If the shooting starts, your torch bearer won’t act as armor. You’ll be dead with an empty belly. No matter your beliefs, you’ll die a fucking idiot.”
Glancing at me, Bronco lowers his voice. “Do you have your people?”
“I don’t know about the stepdad.”
“He isn’t available,” Gunther says immediately.
There’s something about his expression that makes me think Perry might not be alive. Or possibly, he bowed when his woman wouldn’t. After all, Fairuza is sporting a nasty black eye and a swollen lip.
No way to be certain, though. John Marks is banking on juggling lies and loyalties long enough to get what he wants out of the Volkshalberd. I have no doubt he’ll ditch them as soon as the bill comes due for all the shit he’s pulled. Until then, he wants to keep up appearances, and killing Perry may not be good for morale.
“We’ll take two-thirds of your guns,” Bronco says, returning to his original point. “That’ll leave you with as many as you had before you began stealing from the Executioners.”
“We never steal, Mister Parrish,” Gunther mutters.
Bronco steps closer and growls, “For decades, the Volkshalberd have paid the Executioners a piece of everything you’ve sold in Elko. Since John Marks came along, you’ve kept what you owed us. What the fuck do you call that if not stealing, asshole?”
Gunther exhales deeply. “The torch bearer wants to renegotiate.”
“Yet, he’s not here,” Bronco announces, offering a mocking smile. “The fucker’s hiding somewhere, getting sucked off by your woman while he stuffs his fat face with your food. If he wants to make a deal, why am I talking to you?”
The old man doesn’t know the answer. He’s no longer in power. The Village used to be run by a committee or whatever they called themselves. Normally, a woman leader joined Gunther to speak with the Executioners. I don’t see Hester in the crowd of faces today.
“Tell Marks about the guns offer,” Bronco tells Gunther and signals for us to leave. “We know he’s spent the money he owes us, meaning the Village will be starving through fall and into winter. Most of the elderly and children won’t survive. When you run out of food, John Marks will bail on the Village. Then you’ll finally come crawling back for a new deal. Or, instead, you can convince that little shit to back down before half of you die. Either way, we’re getting our fucking money.”
Bronco turns away before Gunther can speak. I admire my president’s willingness to take his eyes off the enemy, despite knowing their guns are focused on him. With four daughters, a new wife, and a powerful club, Bronco has a lot to lose. But he doesn’t hide like John Marks. Maybe the Volkshalberd with any sense can see how my leader will survive far longer than theirs.
Once Bronco and our club brothers are on their bikes, revving engines, I return to my SUV. In the back seat, four sets of eyes watch me. My chest clenches in panic. These people are my responsibility now. I hadn’t really considered that part. Everything spiraled too fast.
I wanted to visit Pixie.
Visiting Pixie led to taking her.
Then I had to free her family to keep her.
Now, they expect me to take charge.
But that’s not something I’ve ever done. Not with my grandparents or the Killing Joes or even the Executioners. I’m a follower—one of the sheep. The only reason I left the Killing Joes was to follow a man like Bronco. I don’t know how to lead anyone.
Now, I have four people expecting me to be the guy in charge. The thought of giving them what they want fills me with dread. I’m better at being lonely than a member of a family. I’m so on edge that I could tear the steering wheel free.
But then I catch Pixie’s gaze in the rearview. She offers a simple smile. No crying with relief and thanking for me for saving her family. She doesn’t seem wide-eyed and waiting for me to do something special. Pixie just smiles in