The Saints' Devil

XXI

Frank could no longer remember how long he'd been there. After he was so brutally knocked unconscious, he woke up in a room he did not recognize, chained to a chair, and head pounding from the loss of blood. Each day a different man walked in and did their own sick torment on him.

Some would beat him up, some work take a piece of burning hot medal and burn him, some would carve his skin with a knife, but none of them dare touch his mask and none of the torment ever came close to the torment he received from his uncle for years on end. This was child's play and Frank was growing dangerously bored with it. 

Based on the men who came in and out of the room each day, he came to the conclusion he'd been there for a week, maybe more. He was their prisoner, they'd come in every once in a while and place water and the smallest amounts of food on the floor, close enough for him to reach out with his chained wrists and eat it. 

After days of countless beatings and torture, Esteban walked in with three other men, looking at Frank with the same ice old rage in his eyes. 

"After all we've done to you, you still have the strength to look at me with such rage, el Diablo?" he asked, laughing sickeningly loud. "I'm surprised, where are your friends? You been here for so long, where are they? They don't care about their precious Diablo?"

Frank said nothing. He had wondered what the rest of the club was doing, why they were hesitating. 

"Are you enjoying your stay, Diablo?" he asked and it was Frank's turn to laugh menacingly, the rest of the men looking at him with fear.

"You don't actually believe any of this hurts, right?" Frank asked, his voice laced with venom. "Why don't you tell me, after all your men have done to me, why do you still come in here with four men?" Frank watched as the men around him went pale and watched as Esteban looked at him with eyes suddenly wide. "Scared?"

"How can I be scared?!" Esteban suddenly shouted, pointing a finger at him. "You're the one chained to a chair and beaten nearly to death, why would I be afraid of a man who's already got a foot in the grave?!"

"I thought you'd know by now," Frank said, his voice dangerously low. "You've been calling me it the entire time," he continued, watching as Esteban looked at Frank with fear in his eyes. "Because I am El Diablo."

"And I will be the man who goes down in biker history for killing el Diablo," he said, turning to leave the room, stopping to give one last final command. "Kill him."

The four men drew their weapons and loaded them, pointing them straight at Frank. He reached up and clutched the golden coin around his neck and shut his eyes, thinking of Charlie one last time.

* * *

"Why aren't you doing anything!" Charlie screamed at her brother, the door to his office open, allowing the bar to listen silently as they all wondered the same thing.

Once they had seen that Frank did not arrive within a day, they immediately thought the worst. Many wanted to load themselves and go find him, but they awaited on Fury's command. However, Fury never spoke a word, never even mentioned the fact that Frank had not returned in two weeks now.

"Quit shouting," Fury snapped.

"Oh, fuck you!" She screamed yet again, throwing shit from his desk, looking at him with pure rage. "Frank has been gone for two fucking weeks and you sit here and do nothing! Why haven't you done anything!"

"We don't even know what happened to him, I am waiting for Esteban to send a message."

"Frank might as well be dead by now and you're sitting here waiting for a fucking message that is never gonna come!" she continued to shout, Fury finally slamming his fist on his table and standing to glare at her.

"There is nothing I can do."

"Bullshit! There is nothing you want to do because Frank's a better leader than you ever were!" she shouted one last time before turning to his weapon cabinet. She pulled out a thigh holster and wrapped it around her thigh, placing a pistol in it. She then pulled out another double holster for her waist and loaded it with two more pistols, loading the belt with extra magazines of ammunition. She watched Fury the entire time she loaded herself up. Lastly, she grabbed an assault rifle and threw the strap on over her shoulder, loading the weapon and glaring up at Fury. "Once I return, I can assure you. You will no longer be President."

Charlie walked out into the bar and looked at the men seated, all of them already looking at her with great respect. 

"If you respect Frank more than you respect Fury, load yourselves up and get ready," she called, her voice holding so much strength. "We're going to go get him in ten minutes."

The men did not hesitate, even Ryan dropped the glass he'd been cleaning and pulled the shotgun from under the counter, loading it up and nodding to Charlie. Everyone moved and gathered nearly all the weapons they owned, throwing on their cuts and heading outside to their bikes.

Charlie walked outside as well, Drake coming up beside her. "I know you can't ride a bike yet," Drake said, handing her a pair of keys. "It's Fury's baby."

Charlie smirked wildly and looked where Drake pointed, seeing a flawless black '64 Mustang fastback. 

"Gentlemen, follow my lead," Charlie called to the men and they all nodded.

She walked over to the Mustang and climbed in, roaring the engine to life and pulling out of the parking spot, heading down the road and checking her rear view mirror to watch as all of them pulled out on their bikes, following her.

Charlie was not going to allow her cowardly brother to stop her from saving the one man she loved and the rest of the crew was no longer going to wait on a man who would not lead them.

All hell was about to break loose.