Page 2 of Crown: Phase 4

Benjamin opened his mouth, but only a groan came out before a violent coughing fit took over. Blood trickled across the floor as his body shook. He struggled to catch his breath, but every breath sent another wave of pain through him. After everything Crown had done to him over the last several hours, he was hanging on by a thread. And he knew it.

Benjamin belonged to one of the most ruthless mobs around, but Crown had broken him. Stripped away every bit of toughness he thought he had. The man kneeling on the floor with only one hand, because the other had been cut off and burned, wasn’t the same Benjamin who had stormed onto the property of that cabin. He barely recognized himself. As he struggled to breathe, flashes of the bloodshed and evil he’d committed over the years ran through his mind, and he realized that this was karma finally catching up to him.

Benjamin was taking too long for Hemsworth’s liking. He mistook his silence from pain for defiance and gave Grim a single nod. Grim shot up from his seat, stepped forward, and slammed the butt of his pistol against the side of Benjamin’s head. Once. Twice. Again. He kept going until Benjamin cried out in pain and finally started talking.

Blood ran from Benjamin’s busted lips as he confessed everything Crown had already beaten out of him earlier. The Council listened as he explained how Gunner had approached Preach about Crown, what they had planned, the meetings they’d had, the promises that were made, and every other detail he could remember. He held nothing back. At that point, he would’ve told them anything if it meant the torture would finally stop. He was tired of the slow death Crown had promised him. He just wanted someone to put him out of his fucking misery.

When Benjamin finished, Grim granted his wish, shooting him in the head. The gunshot had barely faded when the roar of motorcycle engines filled the air outside. One by one, engines fired up as tires screeched across the concrete. Every man in the room knew exactly what that meant. Gunner was guilty, and he had his club running from the consequences.

“Seal the gates. Now.” Hemsworth ordered, looking at their lead guard, John.

The Ravens had disobeyed the Council twice, and this time, he intended to make sure it never happened again. Moments later, the men stepped outside.

“The front and second line managed to get out, but we caught the rest.” John said.

Hemsworth nodded and slowly walked toward the members trapped behind the gates. The guards forced them off their bikes, and once they were standing, his eyes moved over every face before settling on the cuts covering their bodies. Nico’s grandfather had to be turning over in his grave, he thought. He’d watched that man build the Ravens from the ground up with pride. Seeing what the club had become now was a damn disgrace.

“What kind of president leaves his club behind?” Hemsworth asked, his voice carrying across the lot as he glanced at the other clubs.

“A pussy. A man with no morals, no loyalty, and no fuckin’ respect. I want you all to pay attention, ’cause what happens next is exactly what happens to any club that forgets who gave them the right to wear that patch.”

He turned toward the guards.

“Disarm them, and when you’re finished, strip every last one.”

The guards moved quickly. Pistols were pulled from waistbands. Knives came from boots. Extra magazines, shoulder holsters, and every other weapon hit the pavement, forming a growing pile. Then they started removing the leather cuts from their shoulders one by one. Some Ravens handed them over without a fight. Others hesitated until a rifle barrel was pressed against their chests. Within moments, a pile of leather vests sat at Hemsworth’s feet.

“We gave this charter a second chance. It won’t get a third.” Prophet said, turning toward the Ravens’ Sergeant-at-Arms. He pulled his gun and fired, and the man dropped where he stood.

Gasps spread through the crowd as Hemsworth pulled his gun next and shot their road captain. Between him and Prophet, two of the Ravens’ officers were gone. They were the men most likely to rally what was left of the club and fight back when this was all over. The president and vice president had escaped, but Hemsworth wasn’t fazed. He knew it was only a matter of time before they joined their officers.

“From this moment forward, this charter is dissolved. Effective immediately, any man caught wearing those colors again in the Hills will answer to the Council.” Hunter chimed in. He didn’t say much, but when he did, niggas had better take heed.

Hemsworth turned toward Crown.

“Whatever business you have with this Preach is yours to handle. But Gunner…that’s Council business.”

∞∞∞

On the other side of the city, Danger pulled his Harley into the body shop's lot before killing the engine. He swung a leg over the bike, removed his helmet, and set it on the seat. His eyes slowly swept the small property, taking in every security camera, every bay door, and every employee moving around like it was just another workday. To them, it was. To him, it was about to become something entirely different.

He pushed through the front door, and the smell of fresh paint, oil, and body filler hit him. An employee standing behind the front counter looked up from the computer. Danger realized he was a new face. He hadn't been there when he'd brought his Hellcat in for work.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome to Next Level Auto Body. My name's Chris. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Redd."

Chris nodded as he stood. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Nah."

"Okay. He's in the back. Let me go get him."

A few minutes later, Chris returned by himself.

"I apologize. The boss is on a phone call, giving a customer an estimate. Is there anything I can help you with, or would you like to wait? I can also take your name and number and have him give you a call if you can't stay."

Danger's jaw tightened. Without another word, he reached behind his back and pulled his gun, aiming it directly at Chris’s face.