with more than two brain cells knows she won't be running after last night. Those monsters found her somehow, which is a problem we need to figure out.
Dani has been sleeping all day though, the stress of the attack and being up all night taking its toll. When Striker meanders up the hall toward me carrying a couple bottles of beer, I know that he’s coming to check on me as much as he’s coming to check on Dani. He'd told us all about her reaction to the monsters. I know he hates seeing anyone, but women especially, being scared like that. Hell, most of us do, and for good reason.
He plops down on the floor next to me and offers me the second beer. I take it with a nod of thanks and raise it to my lips, taking a long swig of the amber liquid. It barely tastes of anything, just a little hops and some of the richness and bitterness of coffee. I generally prefer something a little stronger and richer with more flavor, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"She woken up yet?" Striker grunts.
"Nah, passed out as far as I can tell."
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. As much as we’re macho assholes who don't talk about their feelings, I know every single brother who is part of the Immortal Hunters and even more so our inner group of the Sons of Helsing is still feeling the ramifications of the attack last night. The clubhouse and compound have always been a safe haven. Hell, there are enough fences and gates around the place that most people wouldn't even think about trying to break in. Now? We've been attacked in our own home. Some of our brothers were massacred in their beds, some while they were fucking a sweet butt, some while they were walking to or from the bar. The loss is felt keenly among us, even though it’s part of the life.
No one in a one-percenter MC knows when their number will be up. It isn't like we play it safe. Our lives are more about breaking rules than following them. But being one of the Sons of Helsing is especially dangerous, as demonstrated last night. Our enemies outnumbered us easily and were bigger and more powerful than we could ever hope to be, even with our gifts. None of them had ever dared attack the compound before, and that had made us lazy, made our response sluggish, and had ultimately cost the lives of sweet butts and brothers alike.
When Phoenix and Dragon show up a few minutes later each carrying a six pack, I know that the bodies have been buried and the funeral rites completed. That's the only way they would have come back. The two of them are identical if you look closely enough, but they are so different in their personalities and style that it’s almost hard to tell at first. Part of me wonders if Dragon will be adding to his tattoo, a tally mark for every life lost that he feels responsible for. I hope not, since he isn't responsible for any of what happened last night.
He'd kept Dani safe and that’s what matters.
The thought stuns me for a moment. She doesn't matter more than my brothers. Hell, I barely even know her outside of saving her life. But I can't deny the draw I feel toward her. I shake the thought from my head. None of that is worth thinking about. She’s a pretty face and a flawless body from what I can tell, but that is it.
The twins sit down on the floor on either side of the hall while I lean against the window frame. None of us speak; we don't need to. This is part of our grieving process, even if we don't acknowledge it. We offer each other silent support, a place to be with the people we consider family without having to get shit-faced or high as a kite to deal with our grief.
It’s only a matter of time before the Prez calls a council meeting and Striker and Dragon, as the VP and Sergeant-at-Arms respectively, will be stuck behind closed doors until they figure out how we’re going to retaliate. Whether or not we will isn't in question. We have the data off the hard drives. Sure, we haven't prevented any of them from having it since they'd had it all backed up on