Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(92)

"What is this?" I asked Ghost under my breath.

"Mutiny," he whispered back.

"You been missin' me?" King called back, a sharp and false smile on his lips.

"Been wondering when you'd actually take the fucking time to see your club," Rider called back.

"Fuck," I breathed. A heavy hand pressed against my back briefly before retreating again.

The line drawn in the room was foggy, a few faces turning in confusion toward Rider, more smirking up at King. And yet Ghost was here, standing with me, with Bear, calling Rider trouble. And I fought against the relief that burned through me, wrestled down the gratitude, and focused on King.

"I see more of you fuckers than I sometimes care to," King said, arching his brows, drawing out fewer chuckles than he'd typically get for the joke. "You got something that can't wait for church, VP?"

"I've got something I want added to the docket," my brother said. He was marching slowly forward, one step for every taunt. Fewer of the brothers looked surprised than the ones who eager to hear Rider speak.

King glanced in my direction, our eyes meeting briefly. This had been building under our noses. Rider had taken advantage of our distraction, the focus on Faith. Maybe he'd even taken advantage of the club's ride together.

"How long?" I asked Ghost.

"He brought it to me on the ride and I told him to fuck off. We were drinking—I didn't think it was serious," Ghost answered back.

I tried to recall every conversation I'd overheard, if Ghost had ever been present. But no, Rider must've realized where Ghost's loyalty would lie. And why was it with King? I wondered. Rider was his friend.

I turned to look at Ghost and he was already staring at me. There was no obvious answer in his expression, and I wasn't brave enough to go digging for one.

"My door is always open," King said. Which even I knew was the wrong thing to say.

"Not lately," Rider said, with an exaggerated stare in Faith's direction.

"What is it then?" King asked, sharper.

Rider straightened and Skid and Nutso flanked his back. "I'd like to make the case for the impeachment of our club president."

King's smile returned, jagged edges and snarling lip. "You wanna present the case? Not ready to put it to a vote?"

"I wanna do things by our laws," Rider answered immediately, chin lifting. "I made a vow to this club to follow those laws. I take that seriously."

The implication was obvious. King had broken his vows.

I never intended to speak. That wasn't my role. Not for King, not in the club. But staring at Rider, at his confidence in his case, knowing what it would mean for me in the club, for Faith and King and Bear, I was up off my chair before my brain caught up with my mouth.

"One of those vows was loyalty to the president of the club. Not fucking whispering behind his back, trying at every chance to turn a brother's loyalty," I called.

Rider's stare turned slowly in my direction, and the open confusion at hearing me speak out, the obvious amusement, made me want to launch myself across the room and shove my fist into his teeth.

"Another was no fucking pack," Rider said, glaring at me, over my shoulder to Bear and Faith. "Every brother equal, no bonds, no fucking omegas."

"There's no pack," King said, but even I thought he didn't sound very convincing.

Rider laughed, holding my stare. "Maybe you can't call it that with a beta in the mix, gnawing on the piece of ass like a dog with a bone."

He looked like our goddamn dad. Sounded like him too. My fists were clenched and I was moving forward, aware of the laugh in his gaze, how eager he was to have me swing a fist, to make a mess, to give him a reason to bark at me and prove which of us was really powerful. I didn't care. I'd keep his mouth busy with punches for as long as I could.

"Chance has more alpha bark in his dick than the whole lot of you combined."

The fuck?!

My steps stuttered to a halt so fast I actually felt dizzy. I didn't have to turn around to see who had said those words. I knew that voice, knew the teasing arch, the lazy drawl.

Rider barked out a half-laugh, stare sliding over my shoulder as his brow furrowed. "What?"

"I said," Ghost continued, words slowing in mock patience, "that Chance's cock is more of an alpha than you are. Any of you. All of you."

No one was looking at me, but I felt like I was standing under a hot spotlight, fully exposed.

"The fuck would you know about Chance's cock?" Rider asked, still trying to laugh, to grin, but the sounds and shapes were all wrong, too many teeth bared, too much panic.

"Repeated personal experience," Ghost declared, careless and proud.

Rider's eye twitched, and I thought maybe I was passing out while still somehow remaining standing.

The ripple of shock was an actual flavor in the air. Battery acid. Everyone was still, time suspended, and then Rider was running forward, growling. I braced myself, my hands limp at my side, and I wondered if he would kill me. His shoulder struck mine roughly, and I stumbled back, but it wasn't me he was charging toward. The impact spun me and I stared in a trance, watching Rider barreling toward an utterly calm and smirking Ghost, watched Rider's arm pull back and Ghost's smirk stretched. The punch cracked, and Ghost's head snapped back and the spell broke.