Dragon

XVII

Drake Had been having nightmares more frequently. Nightmares about Beastein and the animal kingdom, Beastein and Purgatory. Nightmares of fire and the dragon on his chest. They haunted him and became worse and worse as the situation between the club and Purgatory remained at a stand still. 

No new information could be gathered, there were no clues, no direction, no signs, nothing. They couldn't find a single thing. Frank kept a close eye on Lucy but she showed no suspicious behavior, if she was a spy he would have sniffed it out by now but she hadn't proven herself to be in any way. 

"Drake," Frank called him, causing him to push himself out from under the Hyundai Sonata he was fixing up. 

Drake sat up, looking at Frank as he wiped his hands on his rag. "What's up, Frankie?"

Frank ignored the nickname he despised and crossed his arms over his chest. "Lucy is going to be working in the bar and you will be training the rest of the boys."

Drake's eyes widened and he was on his feet in an instant. "No, no. Frank, you can't have me train them."

Frank sighed heavily, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me. Let's take a ride. We can't talk here. Not anymore."

Drake looked at him, his brows furrowing instantly at the sound in Frank's voice. It was off, he was off and Frank was not the type to ever be off, not about anything. On Frank's way to grab his keys and cut, he stopped in the back to kiss Charlie on his forehead, swiftly lifting his mask and pulling it back down. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled and looked away, and Frank turned from her, heading towards Drake. "Let's go."

They both headed out at the same time and loaded themselves on their bikes, revving their engines simultaneously. Drake followed Frank, the two of them heading down the street to Grandma's Kitchen, the one true safe spot for any of them. 

"What are we doing here, Frank?" Drake asked once they arrived, Frank never stopping once he got off his bike, heading into the restaurant without even looking back at Drake. 

Drake sighed heavily, running a hand through his long, unruly hair, before heading into the restaurant, following where Frank went, to the back corner of the restaurant. He took a seat before Frank, Frank already cracking the window open, allowing the sound of the crashing waves and the salty breeze to come through, the two of them sitting there quietly for a moment before Frank finally turned his attention towards him.

"Drake," he began, a deep seriousness in his voice, unlike the normal seriousness, frightening him. Drake gulped harshly, his throat burning afterward. "There's a rat in the club."

Drake's eyes widened for a moment. "You mean another rat? There's another rat?"

Frank nodded his head only once. "I don't know who it is but there are too many things that aren't adding up. The only explanation is that there is a rat," Frank explained, the two of them quickly ordering two beers. "Beastein wouldn't know when or where to put his clues for your runs unless someone was telling him when and what runs you would be going on."

Drake's brows furrowed, processing the information. It made sense, how did Beastein know where he'd be and what runs he would go on if there wasn't someone from the inside telling him. 

"Who would be the one reporting back to Beastein?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't document the runs. I tell the person directly. When and where. Who they're meeting with, if it'll be dangerous. Don't know who would be able to know or who could be the one listening."

"But, I mean, there'd have to be someone who's listening. How would Beastein know all this? How would he even know where to find me?"

"That man we interrogated," Frank began, leaning forward, clasping his hands together. "Said that Lucy is still Beastein's. Just before he died."

Drake's heart thumped. "You think...?"

"Dammit Drake, I don't know what to think. We got hardly any damn information, no leads, and the last guy who could tell us jack shit only told me that Lucy is still Beastein's. I need you to take over training. You know how to train the rest of the men against Beastein, you. Lucy will be working at the bar with Ryan, where plenty of men can keep an eye on her, just until we get more information."

Drake gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe that Lucy was the spy, that she would be behind any of this but he knew Frank had a point. Right now, at this moment, no one could be trusted. Not until more information could be gathered on what was going on. 

"Do you think that she is the spy?" Drake asked, his palms sweating.

Frank shook his head. "Personally, no. She was at your first run Beastein made himself known. Which would mean someone else told him you were going. However, it doesn't mean she isn't still working for him or that she's truly free from him." Drake was stressing. His stomach twisted and churned, his palms were sweating and clammy, his back tingling. He wasn't sure what to think. "Drake, keep your shit together. If Beastein is planning an attack--which he is--then we need to be ready. You need to get your brothers ready for this."

"Frank it's too dangerous--"

"I don't want to hear it, Drake," Frank snapped. "I ain't sending you to the wolves and don't try and do nothing stupid, ya hear." Drake nodded slowly. "Take your time here. Relax. Come back to the club when you're ready."

With that, Frank stood and left the table, disappearing out of sight before Drake could utter another world. 

Drake remained there, staring down at the ice that gently shifted in his bourbon, the amber liquid shining from the dining lights in the restaurant. He was worried that things were going to get worse quick, too quick. He wasn't going to allow the club to get hurt, not anyone in the club. But how could he do it? How could he avoid that? What could he even do?

"Good evening, young man. Could I interest you in a quick conversation?" said someone from beside him, but Drake was too lost in his thoughts that he did not bother to look up.

"Not interested, my man. Carry on."

"Oh, but I think you'll want to listen to me," the man said, his voice frightening Drake with the familiarity. "Dragon."

Beastein.

Hello Everyone!!

I am so very sorry about the slow updates but, good news, I do have a lot of inspiration for this book so more updates should be underway. Please bear with me as I continue the end of my semester, things will get busier for me.

Also, "The Saints' Devil" made it to the Wattys Awards 2021 Shortlist!! Thank you all for your support and allowing my story to grow the way it has, please continue to vote and comment and support this series. 

With Care,
D. M. Brightwell