Sharing my Best Friend's Brother

Chapter 7

(Eleven years ago)

Grayson

I put a bullet through my brother's head and watch the life bleed out of his eyes. I wait, just to be sure he's not getting back up.

Sixteen years old, and I've already learned not to take chances.

Not to miss—even an inch.

That was the last Reaper who betrayed us. The last snake in the clubhouse pretending to wear the same patch as me.

Everyone else is gone. All that's left is my father.

I shove the gun back into my waistband and head for the basement, where King's been carving answers out of my father for hours.

"King. Enough." My tone leaves no room for argument.

He steps aside, blood slick on his hands, face splattered, shirt soaked through—every inch of him reeking of violence and vengeance.

The m******e's over. Bodies are scattered everywhere, bullet holes still smoking in the walls. The stink of gunpowder, sweat, and blood hangs heavy in the air, thick enough to choke on.

But I've stood in it long enough that it doesn't bother me anymore.

I know I should feel something. Fear. Guilt. Relief.

Instead, there's just... nothing.

Only the weight of what we've done pressing down on me, and the ugly truth that it's mine to carry now.

We slaughtered them all—men I once called family. Men who laughed with me, patched me in, raised glasses to my future.

But they weren't family. Not after what I found out.

Not after what they did to women.

To little girls.

To my sister.

Ace was one of them. The sick fucker I once called my mentor. He shaped me into this life—taught me how to fight, how to shoot, how to lead. I thought he was more of a father than my own.

But he deceived me.

I put the bullet through his skull myself. Watched him fall.

Felt numb.

That emptiness should scare me. Maybe it does. But I shove it down, because tonight I can't afford fear.

I've got one last thing to do.

Face the real monster.

My father.

He's strapped to the chair. His chest is mottled with King's signature work—bruises already purple, blood smeared thick across his skin. His head hangs, but I know he's awake.

Waiting for me.

Behind me, the stairs creak. Niko and Mason make their way down, but they don't step into the light. They linger in the shadows with King, silent, but I can feel it—the same fury burning in me.

Violent. Volatile. Ready to explode.

Jax brought them in. Gave them a home when they had nothing. Raised them the same way he raised me—turning us into soldiers, weapons.

We were supposed to be his legacy.

Now we're standing together, ready to end him.

My eyes stay locked on his face. "Did you get everything out of him?" I ask King.

"He claims he doesn't know who the buyer is."

King's voice is low, steady, threaded with that same deadly promise it's had ever since we found out Alyssa had been sold off to some grown-ass man.

Jax finally lifts his head. His face is swollen, blood dripping down his chin—but somehow, he still smirks.

That is my father. My blood. And he's looking at me like this is all a f*****g joke.

Like he hasn't been keeping dirty secrets from us for years.

"You believe him?" My voice comes out flat, sharper than I meant it to, but I don't let it waver.

King huffs a humorless laugh. "Not a chance in fuckin' hell."

My stomach knots—a mix of rage and something else I don't want to name.

If King couldn't torture it out of him by now, then there's nothing left to get.

Jax will take the truth to his grave.

And that's fine.

We already burned down the rest of his trafficking ring. Hunted down every bastard who ever stood beside him.

Now it's time to put the final bullet where it belongs.

Right between his eyes.

"We've already got a list of his contacts," Mason says. His voice is steady, calm in a way mine isn't. "If this fucker isn't dead by now, he will be."

"Damn right he will," Niko cuts in, sharp as a blade.

The room goes quiet except for Jax's ragged breathing. Then his voice slices through—low, wrecked, but still carrying the same smugness he's always had.

"What you've done tonight will come back to haunt you."

The sound of him talking like he's the one in control makes my skin crawl.

Even beaten, tied down, bleeding out... he still thinks he gets the last word.

But I'll show him who's in charge now.

My fist snaps across his face, bone cracking under my knuckles. His head whips sideways, blood spraying across the floor. He grunts, but it's not enough.

"Shut the f**k up," I snarl, leaning in close so he can feel the heat of my breath, the venom in every syllable. "Everything that's happened—every body on this floor—is because of you. I'm just cleaning up your goddamn mess."

My hand throbs, skin splitting across the knuckles, but I don't care.

I want him to feel it.

I want him to know I'm not a f*****g kid anymore.

Jax chuckles, low and dark, and it scrapes down my spine like broken glass.

"Big man now, huh?" he jeers, his mouth curling into a smug smirk. "You really think you can fill your old man's shoes? Run the club on your own?"

"You call what you were doing running it?" The words rip out of me, my control slipping, a roar tearing my throat raw. "You ran a f*****g s*x trafficking ring, Jax! You had little girls locked up down in this basement. You let those sick motherfuckers touch your seven-year-old daughter!"

He doesn't even twitch. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't show a shred of regret or shame. Just stares cold, like I accused him of stealing cash instead of destroying lives.

"I did what I had to do," he says, his voice flat as ice. "For your mother. For the club. Alyssa would've been fine. She's a woman now. She'd just be doing what she was born to do."

Bile scorches up my throat. The room tilts, edges of my vision drowning in red.

How the f**k can he sit there and say that? Was he always this sick—or did greed twist him into the monster tied to this chair?

"That's it. Kill this motherfucker before I do," King snarls, stepping forward, his blade still dripping my father's blood onto the concrete.

I throw a hand up, stopping him cold. His jaw flexes hard, chest rising like he's about to fight me for the right.

But then his nostrils flare, and he forces himself back into the corner, his amber eyes burning hotter than I've ever seen them.

Resolve locks in my chest as I stare down at my piece-of-s**t father.

This isn't King's kill.

It isn't Niko's.

It isn't Mason's.

It's mine.

I was forced to kill starting at ten years old. Forced to watch men die in front of me, over and over, until death stopped being shocking. Until violence was just another lesson, another test to prove I was worthy of carrying his name.

To make me into the heir he wanted—the one who'd wear his patch, take his chair, become him.

But that ends tonight.

What's more fitting than replacing him by putting him in the ground myself?

"Once I kill you, I'm gonna rebuild this club," I snarl. "Brick by brick, I'll rip out every rotten piece of s**t you left behind and fill it with men who aren't sick in the head. No more secrets. No more selling off women and children like they're product. That dies with you, Jax."

I pause, leaning closer, letting the words dig in, my gaze never leaving his. When I speak again, my voice drops lower. Colder.

"I'll make the Reapers better. Stronger. And when my brothers wear their cut, they'll know it's because I put it on their backs—not because they sold their souls to you."

Jax's swollen eyes drag over the bodies on the floor before settling back on me. His mouth twists into a sneer.

"And this is your plan? Kill anyone who won't follow your little fantasy? That's not leadership—that's the mindset of a little fuckin' boy."

I scoff, shaking my head. "You're wrong. It's justice. Anyone who lays a hand on a kid deserves a worse fate than death."

He lets out a wet, broken laugh, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "You don't know a damn thing about the real world, boy. You think I'm a monster?" His gaze glints with sick amusement. "There's worse out there. Men who'd eat you alive. But if you feed their hunger, you can stand beside them. Rule with them."

Niko's growl cuts through the room, low and dangerous. "You're f*****g sick."

Jax's smirk only widens, his busted lip splitting further. "Sick? No, son. I'm a survivor. And I taught you boys the same thing—only the strong survive. The world doesn't give a damn about morals. It only respects money. Power."

"And you were willing to sell Alyssa for that?" My words come fast, sharp, fueled by disgust. "You were really gonna convince Mom her daughter ran away? Let her grieve while you pocketed the blood money, knowing some grown-ass man was doing whatever he wanted to her? Knowing she'd be screaming for help, and no one would ever come?"

The image makes me sick to my f*****g stomach.

Especially knowing what my sister's already been through.

"It was for the club!" Jax yells, blood spraying with the force of it. His whole body jerks against the restraints, muscles straining like he thinks he can tear free.

Good f*****g luck.

"Everything I did was to keep the club alive. To put food on your plate. You think money grows on trees? I bled for the patch. I made our name strike fear in Oregon. And if selling a few girls meant we kept our power—then so be it."

The rage in my veins boils over. "A few girls?" I grind out. "You act like we're not talking about human beings."

My voice rises, harder and darker. "Power isn't everything, Jax. Not when you've got to sell your soul to get it. Real power comes from loyalty—from brothers who'll bleed with you, walk through hell with you, and still be there when the smoke clears."

I gesture toward the shadows where King, Niko, and Mason watch in silence, fury still rolling off them like fire.

Tonight, they accepted me as their president. And together, we wiped a few dozen s**t stains off the earth.

"You broke their trust. Their loyalty's mine now."

For the first time, my father's cockiness falters. Just a flicker.

But I catch it.

He knows what's coming.

"Your legacy ends here," I growl with conviction. "Mine begins when I pull this trigger."

I don't give him a chance to respond.

I draw my gun and press the cold steel to his forehead. My hand trembles—just enough to remind me how real this is—but the barrel stays steady.

The weight of it feels like it was always meant to end here, in my hand.

The basement is so quiet I can hear King's slow, violent breathing in the corner. Niko and Mason hover in the shadows behind me, their silence louder than words.

One breath in. One breath out.

I squeeze the trigger.

The shot tears through the basement, echoing like thunder. Jax's head snaps back, blood splattering the wall in a wide arc. The sneer vanishes from his face before his body slumps forward, dead weight in the chair.

And just like that—it's over. No last words. No bargaining. Just the end.

My ears ring. My chest feels hollow, like someone carved out my heart and left nothing behind.

And then, reality sets in: My father is dead.

And I'm the one who killed him.

I lower the gun, fingers numb, and glance around the room.

King doesn't speak—just studies me with those piercing eyes of his, like he's trying to see where my head's at.

But even I don't know the answer to that.

Not anymore.

Niko and Mason step forward, the three of them closing in at my side. Together, we stare down at the man we once respected more than anyone else.

Niko breaks the silence first. "Well, what do we do next, Prez?"

The word hangs in the air—heavier than the blood pooling at our feet.

For the first time, it isn't Jax's title anymore.

It's mine.

And I make a vow that I'll never abuse it the way he did.

Not while I'm breathing.

Not while I'm wearing this patch.

"Let's start cleaning up the f*****g bodies," I say, turning to face them. "But first—you promise me you'll never tell my mom or Alyssa the truth. Tonight—everything about it—stays between us."

King hesitates, jaw ticking, but then his eyes harden and he gives me a single nod.

Niko and Mason trade a look before nodding too.

The pact is made.

What happened tonight is our secret.

Our burden.

And all I can hope is that one day, it doesn't eat us alive... and our brotherhood stays unbreakable.