Chapter Eleven

Silver

"Silver, where is Montana?" Bane asked, walking into the clubhouse. It was odd seeing the good doctor here so early in the morning.

In fact, it was odd seeing him here at all.

Generally, Bane only showed when it was time to fulfill his doctorly duties or when Montana had a bone to pick with him. Honestly, the good doctor hated the club.

Okay, maybe not the club itself, but he sure as hell hated Montana.

There was a long-standing animosity between Montana Stone and August Lansing. From what we all knew, it stemmed from their childhood, starting off when Bane's sister damn near drowned in a car accident. To make matters worse, Montana was driving the car. However, when Montana left Bane's sister to drown, saving his brother Kansas instead, well, things were never the same with Montana and Bane again. Yet, when Bane's sister finally passed last year after being in a coma for years, things thawed between the two men.

Oh, they still butted heads, but at least they could be in the same room again without trying to kill one another.

"Good morning to you, too. He's not awake yet," I said, flipping a page in the book I was reading while drinking a hot cup of coffee. It was too damn early in the morning to deal with either man.

Sighing, the good doctor looked around for a bit, then pulled out a chair and sat across from me.

Looking up from my book, I frowned.

"Don't you have patients or something?"

"Cleared my schedule."

"Seems ominous," I commented and reached for my coffee cup. "Should I vacate to my room for the rest of the day? Because I'm not in the mood to listen to you and Montana go at it all day."

"We're not that bad."

"No." I quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're worse. Do you realize that when the two of you argue, the both of you look and sound like toddlers fighting on the playground over who gets to ride the rocking dinosaur first, right?"

Bane looked at his watch and mumbled, "He started it."

I stared at him in shock. I know he just didn't say that. He was a grown ass man. A well-regarded and highly respected doctor. The top in his field, but to look at him, all I saw was a petulant man-child not getting his way.

I couldn't with him.

It was too damn early in the morning.

"Go away, Bane."

Sighing, he apologized, "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't let him get to me. When do you think he will wake up?"

"Not anytime soon. He and Tessa were up all night. Apparently, York's got the flu."

Bane nodded.

"What about Mercy?"

Closing my book, I gave the man my undivided attention.

"What in the world is wrong with you? You know damn well Mercy and everyone else is still at home. It's five o'clock in the damn morning. What the hell are you doing here so early, anyway?"

The man said nothing.

Shocker!

Groaning, I got to my feet and sighed. "Fine. You don't want to talk to me, then don't. But I will not sit here while you grill me about the club brothers. This is my time. My quiet time before the shitstorm of the day wreaks havoc."

Flinching, Bane sat up straight, reaching across the table for me.

"I'm sorry. Please don't go. I don't know why I'm so anxious. Wait. That's a lie. I know, I just don't know how Montana is going to react. The fact is, I don't even know what to tell him. All I know is that Malice called me and said Popeye was going to spill the beans about me. But I have no clue what Popeye thinks he has on me."

Sighing, I sat back down.

Cupping my coffee cup, I looked down into the dark brew and asked, "How did he sound?"

"Who? Malice?"

I nodded.

"The same. Angry as usual."

"What exactly did he say?"

"Sweetheart, I don't want you bothered by this. You already have enough on your plate but thank you for asking and listening to an old man ramble."

"Either you tell me, or I hear from someone else. It's all the same to me. You, of all people, should know there are no secrets in this club."

Bane looked at me and then added, "Malice said ‘ Popeye is getting ready to nark. Whatever you're hiding. Time's up.'"

I leaned back in my chair and took a real good look at the man.

"Malice doesn't mince his words, Bane. You know that. If he called you personally to give you a heads-up, then he believes Popeye has something on you. Whatever that may be is anyone's guess and for you to find out."

"Find out what?" we both heard Montana groggily say.

Turning, I watched when the president of the club walked down the stairs, cradling his son.

Poor kid looked awful.

Then again, what did I know?

"What the hell are you doing here so damn early?" the tired and cranky man balked, taking a seat at the table as he rubbed his sleeping son's back.

Bane frowned, leaning over and placed the back of his hand against York's forehead, then whispered, "Fever broke."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Malice called me. That's why I'm here."

"He say where he was?"

"No. It wasn't a cordial chat. He said Popeye has something on me."

"He say what?"

Bane shook his head.

"Any idea what that fucker might have on you?"

"No."

Sitting at the table, watching the two of them, I wondered if either of them realized just how alike they were? Both men were stubborn as hell, opinionated, the best at what they did, and both were the biggest pains in the ass. Dealing with one was bad enough, but if they ever sorted their shit and banded together, they would be unstoppable.

"Well." Montana sighed. "Malice wouldn't just call to chew the fat. If he called, then he believes Popeye has something."

"Silver said the same thing."

Montana looked at me and winked. "My girl knows her shit."

"Problem is, I don't know what Popeye would have. It's not like I'm an active brother in this club anymore."

"You used to be," Montana challenged, daring Bane to object.

"That was a long time ago, Montana." Bane sighed.

"Wasn't that long ago, brother, and not because of us. You distanced yourself all on your own. That's on you."

"Really?" Bane huffed. "You really want to bring that shit up now?"

"Just saying—"

I groaned loudly.

"Enough. No fighting. I mean it. I haven't had enough coffee and, Montana, you are holding York. Kid is too damn young to hear his father lose his shit, and you," I accused, pointing a finger at Bane. "Stop antagonizing him. You need his help, and you know it."

The second Montana sent out the call, the board members started arriving. None of them looked happy to be at the clubhouse so damn early in the morning, and I didn't blame them. It was fucking Saturday. They should have been able to sleep in and spend time with their families. Instead, they were here, wondering what the hell was going on.

The first to arrive was Mercy.

"You cockblocker. This better be fucking good," the man complained, glaring at Montana who, after taking York back upstairs to sleep, returned and plopped his ass at the table, sitting next to Bane, who still hadn't moved. "Do you know how hard it is to get alone time with my wife, asshole? We had the entire penthouse to ourselves this morning!"

"Malice called."

"So?"

"Popeye has something on Bane."

"And?"

"And Bane needs our help."

"Then fucking help him. He's your friend!"

Before Montana could reply, in stumbled Payne, who still looked drunk off his ass and half dead to the world. Staggering over to the nearest chair, he sat down and laid his head on the tabletop.

"You okay over there, Payne?" Bane asked, concerned, getting to his feet so he could check on the very drunk brother.

"Who died?"

"No one is dead," Bane muttered, checking the man's pulse.

"Someone better be dead, or I'm leaving."

Next to arrive were Vicious and Fury. Both men looked well-rested and happy when they sauntered in, laughing as Fury bumped into Vicious.

"I'm telling you, my girls know their shit!"

"Only because you give them everything they want."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Montana asked, looking at both of them.

"I was just complimenting Vicious on his new manicure." Fury smiled happily.

"His what?" Mercy scoffed.

Before Vicious could hide his hands, Fury grabbed his right hand and held it up for everyone to see the hot pink glittery fingernail polish that adorned his nails.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Montana smirked, shaking his head.

"Four little girls are what happened," the man grumbled, yanking his hand away from Fury, who laughed happily. "And I dare any of you to say anything. Laugh it up, asshole. Those girls have plans for you next. Elizabeth and Andi have already picked your color. I hope you like blue glitter."

"I could pull off blue glitter," Fury replied, puffing up his chest as he looked at his nails. "It will go with the green toenail polish I have now."

"Thank God I have a son," Montana groaned, shaking his head.

"For now." Bane smirked. "Tessa could be pregnant with a girl."

"Keep talking smack and our truce is over, asshole."

"Tessa's pregnant?" Mercy asked and Montana nodded, which caused Vicious and Fury to jump into the conversation.

Rolling my eyes, I sat behind the bar watching grown men talk like little old biddies at a Sunday brunch. Not a single one of them had a fucking brain cell in their head.

"They seem in good spirits."

Turning, I nodded at Torment, who slid onto a stool. "They're idiots."

"You know why I'm here at the ass crack of dawn?"

"Malice called. Something to do with Bane."

Torment sighed. "I see. And how are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

The club therapist chuckled.

"Nice try, Silver. No woman on the planet has ever said those words and actually meant them."

His statement proved true. I experienced a sudden surge of energy, and my body reacted with the sensation of the hairs on the back of my neck standing up just a few minutes later. The clubhouse suddenly felt cold and drafty, like a chilling breeze had swept through, making me shiver. I cautiously looked up from where I was sitting and took notice of the distant sounds of brothers' voices and chairs scraping against the floor. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, racing with adrenaline. With every beat of my heart, I could sense the pulsing of my blood coursing through my veins. Distractedly, I stood up and looked around the large gathering room, barely noticing the sound of the brothers' laughter and the buzz of their conversations filling the room as they moved about.

What for? I didn't know.

Didn't they feel it?

Couldn't they sense the danger looming?

It was suffocating.

With a sense of urgency, I reached for my throat and scoured every corner, determined to find what I was looking for. I knew he was close. There was always an unmistakable energy in the air whenever he was near, even before I caught sight of him.

"Silver?" I vaguely heard him, amidst the chaos of my mind. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"

Shaking my head, I whispered, "You need to step away."

"What?"

"Leave. Now."

I carefully walked around the man, ensuring there was a significant gap between us to avoid any physical contact. The moment I emerged from my hiding spot around the bar, I saw the brothers cease their actions, their eyes fixated on me.

The clubhouse grew quiet. The chatter faded away until there was only silence.

A stillness settled over the room, as if time itself had paused, and no one dared to break the silence with even the slightest movement.

"Silver?" Montana said just the clubhouse doors swung open. There, standing at his full height, Malice glared at me, his piercing silver eyes meeting mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

He was here.

In the flesh.

Standing not a few feet from me. With his eyes intensely focused and his body motionless, he seemed like a statue. He remained motionless, not uttering a word, while his eyes examined me with a thoroughness that made me uneasy. I knew what he was seeing. Despite the visibly fading bruises, he didn't display any response to them. Instead, he stood motionless, his unwavering gaze fixed upon me.

"Silver," Montana growled. "Room. Now."

Gulping, I whispered, "I can't do that."

"The fuck you can't!" he roared. "Torment, get her the fuck out of here. Now!"

The moment Torment advanced toward me, Malice's menacing growl reverberated in our ears, filling the air with an eerie intensity, as the brothers took defensive positions. Even Payne, although still under the influence, had a resolute and ready-for-anything demeanor, like he was prepared to engage in war.

With speed, I dashed towards Malice, quickly enveloping him in a tight embrace, my arms firmly secured around his waist. His posture was rigid, but he wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel him relax, creating a protective barrier around me.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Montana sneered angrily.

"She's mine."

"The fuck she is!"

"Montana," Mercy attempted to reason with the irate brother. "You need to calm the fuck down. This will not end well, if you don't. Malice is a sitting board member. Silver is his old lady. She wears his brand. There is nothing you can do."

"Mercy's right, man," Payne groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's done. Best accept it and move on."

"Montana," I calmly said, looking at the man I loved dearly. "Please don't do this."

"He hurt you."

"I accepted his claim."

Malice stiffened.

With a shake of his head, Montana made it clear that he had no intention of listening.

"No. What he did wasn't claiming. He beat you black and blue, Arianwen. We can all still see the fading bruises. No. I won't allow this. No!"

With a swift release of his hold on me, Malice deftly maneuvered me to the side and assertively positioned himself as a barrier, effectively blocking Montana's path.

"I've never asked this club for anything. Not one thing from any of you. For years, I've done whatever you've asked of me. No questions asked. But now, I'm asking."

Montana moved and Mercy quickly stepped in and prevented him from going any further.

"What are you asking, Malice?" the vice president said.

I looked up at Malice while he stared directly at Montana and pointed at him. "I want his permission."

"I'll die before I ever give that!" Montana roared.

"Then I will take her and leave."

"WHOA!" Torment shouted, rushing between the two men, holding his hands up. "Everyone needs to calm the hell down right now."

"Get the fuck out of my way, Torment."

In the next instant, Torment reached into his front pocket and pulled out a golden medallion. Its intricate engravings gleamed in the morning sunlight, the weight of it making a satisfying thud when he dropped it at Montana's feet.

"You can't touch him."

There was an eerie stillness, and Montana stood motionless as he stared at the Soulless Sinner medallion at his feet. The rest of the brothers cursed.

Confusion overwhelmed me and I became intrigued by the sudden shifting demeanors as Montana and Malice both took a seat. Torment was just a sitting board member. That's all. He had no pull, like Fury or Mercy, and he was certainly no Montana, yet both men calmly sat like nothing was wrong.

Torment let out a heavy sigh, taking in the sight of the brothers sitting before him.

"You shouldn't have done that," Malice muttered.

"I wasn't going to let him kill you."

"He could have tried."

"Just shut up, Malice," Torment groaned.

"You sure about this, man, ‘cause if you're wrong, you can lose your brand and your life? Going against a direct order from the president is a death sentence," Mercy clearly stated.

"I'm sure."

"Uh, what the hell did I miss?" we all heard Storm say as he stood in the doorway, looking at the gold medallion at Montana's feet.

"Someone want to tell me what the fuck is happening?" I asked, looking about the room, and when no one spoke up, I glared at Montana, who refused to say a damn word. "Well?"

As Montana bent over and picked up the medallion, he couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. With a sneer, he pocketed it and locked eyes with Malice, his own expression filled with distain. "Just so we're clear. Torment may have saved your ass right now, but this isn't over between us. You and I will have our day in the ring."

Malice said nothing.

Restlessly, I paced back and forth in my room, the ticking of the clock becoming more pronounced with each passing minute. I had been holed up in my room since Malice and Torment escorted me here and ordered me to stay. I was still clueless about the situation, and both men were equally unhelpful in providing answers. It wasn't surprising that Malice remained silent, but I had expected Torment to contribute something, even if it was just a small remark.

Instead, I got nothing.

Not even a see you later.

From the beginning, I knew that my connection to Malice would not be a simple or straightforward journey. Although I was finding it challenging to come to terms with the situation, I firmly believed that he did not have any malicious intent to hurt me. The man I knew would sooner sacrifice his own hand than inflict harm upon me in a fit of rage. No matter how hard I tried to make Montana understand, he turned a deaf ear to my explanations. All he saw were the marks that marred my body.

No matter what, Montana would always see me as the lost, homeless girl that desperately needed him to save me. And for a while, I accepted that, because I did. I didn't know where to go or where to turn. That night, I planned on ending everything and would have if it wasn't for Montana.

Because of him, I found a place where I belonged and wanted to be. I never had a father growing up. Hell, I didn't even know who the man might be. Considering my mother's nocturnal activities, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. It could be anyone.

Not that it really mattered.

In my head, I already had a so-called father.

He wasn't always the nicest man, but I knew he cared about me, and that was all that mattered.

Too bad right now he wasn't listening to anyone and acting like a dick. I got he was upset, but it was my life.

My choice.

And I chose Malice.

Refusing to stay couped up like an errant child, I flung open my bedroom door and walked out. I was too fucking old to be grounded, and Malice could kiss my ass.

I wasn't a fucking dog.