Mason:Inked Reapers MC(135)

"You're making excuses," Brea seethed. "And just last night you were  making bad choices. You beat up innocent people, Miles! How could you!"



"Brea, I'm sorry," Miles said, dejected. "I'm in too deep with this …   lifestyle. And I want out. Truly I do. Even before I met you, I wanted  out but you've given me something bigger to hope for. You've shown me  the kind of life I really want."



Brea was softly crying. She felt like her world was tumbling around her like a flimsy house of cards.



"My brother was right about you," she told him tearfully. "You need to stay the hell away from me."



"Your brother?" Miles sounded angry now. "He's the one who told you I  run with Highway Reapers? I bet he failed to tell you how he knew that."



"What?" Brea wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "What do you mean?"



"Your brother rides with a rival gang, Brea. He's part of the fucking  Blood Pact. I imagine running dirty little errands for them, was a way  to help him make decent money when you guys were younger. I heard about  the guy who got hit with acid, I had nothing to do with that."



"The Blood Pact?" Brea thought of Sylar's motorcycle, of how he worked  long nights and came back with mysterious injuries. It all made sense  and she felt foolish for not having seen it before. She felt like she  was drowning in all the lies she was being told by the men who were  supposed to love her.



"Tonight your brother is going to return to Colridge to fight against my  pack, because now we are at war. And I never wanted you to get caught  up in this, Brea. You have to know that."



"My brother," Brea was shaking her head, not wanting to believe it.



"You need to get out of the house," Miles urged her. "I'll come and get  you. Together we will run away from all of this. Brea, for you I'd give  it all up. Let's just get on my bike and ride until we run out of gas."



"I can't," Brea could barely talk through her waterfall of tears. "I  can't leave the house. My brother's friend is keeping an eye on me. I'm  supposed to stay here."



"My pack knows about your brother," Miles explained grimly. "If things  don't go well tonight they'll come to your home seeking revenge. You're  not safe there."



Brea blinked through her tears. In her heart, she knew that her home  hadn't been safe since her parents died. The once vibrant room had  dulled, taking with it all its magic and Brea's childhood dreams.



"I can try and sneak out," she looked uncertainly at her window. But  first she wanted to talk some sense into Sylar, to stop him from going  to war with the rival gang. If things went badly that night, she could  risk losing both Sylar and Miles and that was just too awful to even  contemplate.



"I need some time," Brea explained. "If you're right about my brother then I have to try and stop him."                       
       
           



       



"I'm coming for you," Miles promised.





Chapter 77



Miles hung up the call and gazed in stunned disbelief at his cell phone.  Brea knew about the guy who'd been burned with acid by his pack  members. If it was her brother's friend who'd been attacked, as Miles  suspected, then it meant that Brea's brother had an axe to grind and a  score to settle.



"Enjoying the fresh air?" Hank stormed out through the door of the bar, already unsteady on his feet.



Miles shot his parked motorcycle a longing glance. If only he'd been  swifter, he could already be on the road and en route to Brea. But she'd  asked for time and he knew he had to give that to her, even if it was  the one thing he'd been running out of.



"What time is everyone making their move?" Miles nodded towards the packed out bar behind them.



"Soon," Hank raised his eyebrows and leaned back against the wall to  steady himself. "Everyone in there is fixing for a fight. Things are  going to get real ugly in Colridge."



"Yeah."



"Your girl still there?"



"No." Miles felt his shoulders slump. He should have been the one to get  her out, to keep her safe. Jealousy burned through him when he thought  of her brother trying to act the part of her saviour.



"That's good," Hank patted Miles on the back and smiled. "Best keep her out of it."



"Her brother pulled her out of Colridge." Miles knew that Hank couldn't  truly be trusted, but the words were tumbling out of his mouth before he  could even stop them. He was still mildly sedated and struggling to  keep his thoughts in his head where they belonged.



"He did?" Hank became alert with interest, his previous drunkenness seemingly forgotten.



"Yeah," Miles kicked at a stone and watched it skitter across the  parking lot towards the row of bikes parked up side by side like  children, patiently waiting in a tidy line.



"Do you?" Miles sighed, wondering if Hank had been the one to pour acid  on that poor Blood Pact member's face. "A while back, someone poured  acid on a Blood Pact members face, scarred him up real good."



"I remember," Hank's expression was surprisingly grim. "What makes you bring that up?"



"I think that Br- my girl's brother knows the guy."



"Shit," Hank gave a low, ominous whistle. "If someone had done that to my friend, I'd be looking to take lives tonight."



"You think?"



"Explains why he got his little sister the hell out of Colridge."



Miles tried to swallow past the lump, which had formed in his throat.  Hank was saying everything that Miles feared. Brea's brother was surely  going to lead the Blood Pact to Colridge to meet the Reapers head on. It  would be a bloodbath and only one pack would be left standing at the  end of it all.



"I guess tonight we settle things between our packs once and for all,"  Hank shrugged casually as though he didn't care whether he lived or  died.



"Yeah," Miles agreed with a tense sigh, "I guess we do."





Chapter 78



Sylar dropped the six-pack of bottled beer onto the checkout counter and  wrestled his twenty dollar bill from his pocket. The store was quiet.  Almost all of the aisles were empty, as Sylar swiftly made his way to  the fridge section for his beer. His nerves jangled inside him like  loose change. He knew what was coming, what was expected of him.



He'd sent word to his pack about the movements in Colridge, about what  he knew regarding Brea's boyfriend. They were understandably furious and  the orders he'd gotten were simple  –



Kill them all.



Later, under the cover of darkness, he'd ride back to Colridge with both  Smith and all his Blood Pact brothers by his side. There, on the  streets of the small town they'd face off with their nemesis, the  Highway Reapers, for the final fucking time.



Thinking about Brea being with a Highway Reapers member, left a bad  taste in Sylar's mouth which he knew no amount of beer would be able to  wash away. His little sister had been sleeping with the enemy,  literally. He'd always thought she was such a good girl, so quiet and  timid, yet the moment he'd given her an inch of freedom she'd run with  it and taken a mile.



Beers in hand, Sylar strode out to the parking lot towards his  motorcycle. His heart was already racing as he tried to visualize what  would happen later. He'd have to remember to take a crowbar with him,  maybe a hammer. Who knew what weapon Smith would have on hand. He  probably had a vat of acid stored somewhere, specifically for this  occasion.                       
       
           



       



Sylar secured his beer to the back of his bike and swung himself into  his seat. Running a hand down his face, he tried to block out the  memories from that awful night when Smith had been attacked. How his  friend had pierced the cold night with his high pitched screams. His  skin had all but completely melted away. The air smelt putrid like  cooked flesh. It was a smell that would never truly be gone from Sylar's  memory no matter how much time passed.



Kill them all.



He hated the Highway Reapers gang as much as he hated the drunk driver  who'd killed his parents. All of his anger and frustration, over the  hand life had dealt him, had been directed towards the rival gang,  growing stronger every year. And now, all that hate was about to be  released. Sylar was almost excited at the prospect of finally  experiencing such a release, but he was also fearful. If his orders had  been to kill them all, surely the Reapers had received a similar  directive. And in such a battle there could only be one victor. What if  all Sylar achieved was robbing Brea of both her brother and her lover?