Two days earlier...
"Hold on," Ryan suddenly asked, completely dumbfounded. "He's got an order for me?"
"Yeah, he said your name clear as day," Leo said.
"Well, what is it?" Drake asked, growing impatient.
"I don't even want to say it, it's so incredibly reckless and it probably won't even fucking work!"
"We don't have time for this Leo!" Cobra snapped. "Either you spit out what the Pres' orders were or I squeeze them outta ya."
"Alright, alright!" Leo said, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Ryan, he wants you to go to the forefathers."
The room went deathly silent. They thought Leo was just over exaggerating, but this was bat-shit crazy.
"But they...they all fucking disappeared after Fury became President," Ryan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Eagle was the only forefather who stuck around. We don't even know where they're at."
"He gave an address," Leo sighed. "It's a forty-five minute drive outside of town."
"Why does he only want Ryan going?" one of the members said, the group murmuring in confusion.
"Because Eagle adopted him," Cobra said.
"He's the only one who spent a lot of time under the forefathers besides Fury and Frank," Drake said, the crew looking at Ryan once again.
"Shit," Ryan cursed, running a hand through his hair. "The forefathers are grouchy old men. They might shoot me before I get the chance to talk to them."
"There must be a reason why he wants the forefathers to know," Drake said.
"I think I know," Ryan said, pushing past the crew to get to the bar where the keys to his bike were and his cut.
The crew followed him, looking at him with bewilderment. "The address," Leo said, handing him the little piece of paper.
"What are you going to do once you get there?" Drake asked, watching as Ryan threw on his cut and shoved a pistol in the waistband of his jeans.
"I'm gonna ask for help."
*
Ryan rode that forty-five minute drive, going far outside of town. The closer he reached the destination, the more his hands began to sweat and his back began to tense.
It was true, of all the members left in the Saints only Fury, Frank, and Ryan spent the most time with the forefathers, before the Saints had entered under Fury's reign.
The forefathers, as part of the generational traditions in the club, left once a new reign began. Tradition goes that the vice president stays in light of the new reign while the previous members disperse. They are part of the club, still, but are no longer active members in any club actives or missions. It is the way the Saints' have functioned for generations and generations.
He knew the place he drove to well. He'd heard stories from the forefathers about a place where they'd go once the new generation was old enough to take over. They called it Saints Haven.
Ryan remembered Eagle telling him stories of the place. It was like a retirement home just for the Saints, he remembered Eagle saying, laughing that same joyous laugh. He always spoke of how excited he was for the day he'd be able to join his past brothers at Saints Haven, once Fury proved he could run the club and could recruit a worthy right hand.
But, Eagle never got the chance.
Ryan rode for what seemed like an eternity until he found it. It looked like an old little two-story general story surrounded by other little shops in this old little town. The monument of welded motorcycles sat across the street from the Saints Haven, giving Ryan the confirmation he needed.
He parked down the street and took the walk to the Haven, mentally preparing himself.
There was only one single rule the Haven had; no one from under the new reign was allowed near or in the Saints' Haven.
Ryan was just about to voluntarily break that rule. He knew not what would happen to him if he broke the rule, he never thought he'd have to worry about it until now. Taking one last deep breath, he entered the Haven, being welcomed with the sight of an old rustic bar, all the forefathers seated around, some with their women, others without. Their eyes were locked on Ryan, the music suddenly cut and the men suddenly stood to their feet.
Silver foxes. He was surrounded by very lethal silver foxes.
"What the hell you doin' here, boy?"
The weight of their gazes made him feel like he was a thousand pounds, he couldn't move and he struggled to gather his thoughts.
"You better fuckin' speak boy or we're gonna have to take care of ya."
"The Saints are in trouble," Ryan finally blurted, immediately wishing he hadn't.
"So?" spoke another man, the rest of them chuckling.
"We're not part of the club no more, boy. That's for y'all to figure out."
"Please! Ye got to help us," Ryan tried to say, again, regretting his choice of words.
"Ya know the rules boy," spoke one of the men. "You shoulda never showed up here."
"Is that new generation that weak they can't even keep the club together?" another man joked, the rest laughing.
"Man the club went to hell, all 'em youngsters ruined our years of hard work."
"What's the ruckus?" Ryan looked over, recognizing the man instantly. It was the past Pres, Maxwell. "Ryan? What the hell are ya doin' here? You know the fuckin' rules. You die if you come here."
Ryan went deathly pale. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Fury betrayed the club," he said, the men suddenly going silent.
"That boy," Maxwell said, shaking his head. "What a sorry excuse for a grandkid."
Suddenly, it all clicked. Maxwell was Fury's grandfather and also Charlies grandfather. "He's got your other grandkid."
"What other grandkid?" he asked, chuckling lightly, the rest of the men joining as well.
"You have a granddaughter, Max," Ryan said and he could see something in his eyes falter.
"The forefathers don't participate in club activities anymore," he said, trying to keep his composure. "Not without good enough reason."
"Your granddaughter isn't enough reason?" Ryan asked and Max shook his head, the men snickering.
"I'll give you one chance to walk outta here with no harm done. Go on, get outta here boy. There ain't nothin' we can do," Maxwell said, turning his back to him.
"They killed my dad," Ryan finally said, watching as Max stopped and the rest of the men looked at him with shock. "Fury killed Eagle."
This story is getting intense.
I'm on the edge of my seat.
Until next time ;)
D. M. Brightwell
YOU ARE READING
The Saints' Devil
Romance{The Wattys Awards Shortlist} The Saint's Brotherhood motorcycle club was known all over town, they were ruthless. They were feared, they got their reputation from one member in particular, one member that was so unbelievably intriguing and mysterio...
