Page 53 of Savage Angels
I stand with my brothers, our guns drawn and ready. Salvatore Agostino and Tony are by my side, their eyes as cold and unyielding as steel. Heavy plastic sheets line the floor, a cruel reminder of the bloodshed that is about to unfold.
One by one, the Italian families file into the warehouse, their uneasy expressions telling me all I need to know. They are not comfortable here, surrounded by bikers and bracing for violence. But they know better than to cross the Savage Angels or the Agostinos.
“Keep it cool, boys,” I whisper, my gaze never leaving the entrance. “We’ll get our shot soon enough.”
Kiyoko is the last to enter the room, her delicate frame belying the iron will beneath. She strides up to me, her eyes locking onto mine without a trace of fear. Her gloved hand extends, and I take it firmly, respect passing between us in that single moment.
“Good luck, Dane,” she murmurs, her voice soft but steely. “Make them pay.”
“Count on it, darlin’,” I reply, giving her a nod before turning back to the door.
Tarso Lombardi enters the warehouse last, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene laid out before him. My blood boils at the sight of him, the man responsible for so much pain and suffering. His gaze drifts over the Savage Angels who flank the walls, and I can see the realization dawning in his eyes—he has walked into a trap.
But pride is a hell of a thing, and it will not let Tarso back down. With a sneer and a swagger that speaks of a false sense of security, he marches forward into the warehouse, ready to face whatever fate has in store for him.
“Let’s get this over with,” he spits, his eyes darting between Salvatore and me.
My grip tightens on my gun, and my heart pounds heavily as I prepare for the storm that is about to break loose.
“Your time’s up, Lombardi,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.”
“Bring it, Reynolds,” he shoots back, his arrogant smirk only fueling my rage. “I ain’t afraid of you or your pathetic little gang.”
“Well, that’s your first mistake,” I state.
Tarso’s sneer turns contemptuous as he surveys the Savage Angels, his eyes lingering on me with disgust. “You really thought you could take me down, Reynolds?” he scoffs. “You’re nothin’ but a bunch of lowlife bikers playin’ at bein’ tough.”
His gaze shifts to Salvatore, and the venom in his voice increases tenfold. “And you, Sal. You had to go and ally yourself with these pieces of trash? Betray your own kind?”
Salvatore steps forward, his posture calm but his eyes burning with anger.
He glances around the room, addressing the other Italian family heads gathered for this meeting. “Does anyone else here have a problem with the Agostino Crime Family working alongside the Savage Angels MC?”
The tension in the room is palpable, but no one speaks up. They know better than to cross Sal. Even Tarso, though he will not back down completely, stays silent.
“Didn’t think so,” Salvatore says coolly, holding Tarso’s glare.
Tarso spits on the ground at Sal’s feet, a clear sign of disrespect. I can feel the electricity in the air—the point of no return. It is time to put an end to this, once and for all.
“Big mistake, Lombardi,” I growl, my hand flexing on my gun. It will not be long now before everything comes to a head, and I am ready to see this through to the bitter end.
As I stand there, tension thicker than smoke in the air, one of Tarso’s men makes his move. The sound of a gunshot slices through the silence like a razor, and before I know it, the bullet tears across my cheek, the sting sharp as hell.
“Fuck!” I spit, but even as I do, Kade is already on it. He steps forward, gun raised, and puts a bullet straight through the dumb fuck’s head who took the shot at me. The man crumples to the floor like a sack of bones, blood pooling around him. I am grateful to Kade for his quick reflexes, but the gratitude is quickly swallowed by rage, heating up my blood like molten lava.
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as it trickles down from the gash on my cheek. It mingles with the fury boiling inside me, and I lock my eyes on Tarso, stalking toward him with deadly intent.
“You piece of shit,” I say, not caring if anyone else hears. “You’re going to pay for this one.”
Tarso scrambles for his gun, but I am quicker. My hand shoots out, holstering my gun and drawing my blade from its sheath. In one fluid motion, I plunge it deep into his chest, feeling it bite through flesh, muscle, and bone. His eyes widen, disbelief and shock written all over his face as he stares down at the steel buried in him.
“Wha… what have you done?” he gasps, straining to breathe, clinging to the last shreds of life.
“Finishing what you started, Tarso.” I hold his gaze steady as the light in his eyes begins to flicker and fade.
I watch as the realization that death is coming for him settles in, and his once-cocky expression crumbles into desperation. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, only a wet gurgle as blood bubbles up in his throat.
“See you in hell, Lombardi,” I whisper, my voice colder than ice, before yanking the knife free from his chest. Tarso’s body hits the floor with a heavy thud, lifeless and defeated.