Chapter 181 The Quiet

Chapter 181 The Quiet
Knox

The clubhouse had finally gone quiet.

Not peaceful. The walls would never hold peace again, not after everything that had bled into the floorboards. But the exhaustion was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick, gray fog.

Brothers were sprawled out wherever sleep had overtaken them. Some draped across battered couches, boots dangling off the edge. A couple slumped in armchairs, heads tipped back, mouths open. One poor bastard was curled up against the vending machine in the hallway, snoring so loudly it rattled the candy bars. Not a soul had the energy left to poke fun at him.

I wandered from room to room, letting my feet carry me without purpose, my mind drifting in the wake of the day’s chaos.

President.

The word seemed to echo behind me, never quite fitting. Every time someone used the title, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, convinced Lucian would appear, that gravelly voice barking out orders, taking his place at the head of the table. But Lucian was gone. The echo was all that remained.

As I moved deeper into the clubhouse, the silence thickened, broken only by the soft hum of the fridge and the distant, muffled snoring. Eventually, I found myself standing outside the information room... Jinx’s domain.

The door was cracked, a sliver of light spilling into the dim hallway.

I knocked once, knuckles rapping against the wood.

“…Yeah?” His voice sounded rough, sanded down by exhaustion and grief.

I pushed the door open.

The room looked untouched by the night’s events. Maps covered one wall, their edges curling from years of tacks and tape. Computer monitors sat dark, their blue glow absent for the first time in memory. Stacks of folders, some neat, some teetering, covered every available surface. Usually, Jinx would be bouncing between them, talking a mile a minute with chip crumbs on his shirt and a mug of coffee glued to his hand.

Tonight, he sat in his swivel chair, slumped forward, staring at nothing. One elbow rested on the desk, his hand covering his mouth. He looked up when I stepped inside, eyes red-rimmed but sharp.

“…How’s Lily?” he asked quietly.

“Doc finally bullied her into sleeping,” I told him.

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “Sounds about right.”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “How’re you doing?”

He laughed, a short, hollow sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really asking me that?”

“…Yeah.”

Silence settled between us, gentle and sad.

Finally, he shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

He looked around the cluttered room, searching for ghosts. “I keep expecting Lucian to yell at somebody. I keep expecting Ash to come in here, bitching because I left paperwork everywhere.” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I keep expecting Caleb to steal my damn energy drinks.”

The silence afterward was deep and aching.

“I hate how quiet it is,” he admitted.

“So do I,” I replied. My voice sounded strange, foreign in the stillness.

Another minute passed, slow and heavy. Then, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans.

Jinx frowned. “What’re you doing?”

I pulled out a folded leather cut, black, worn, the Sergeant-at-Arms rocker stitched across the back in white thread. Elias’s name had already been removed from the inside. He’d handed it to me before everyone drifted off to sleep, his face shadowed and unreadable.

I walked over and laid the cut carefully on Jinx’s desk.

His eyes widened, the breath catching in his throat. “…Knox.”

“I need a Sergeant-at-Arms.”

He stared at the patch, then immediately shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He pushed it back toward me. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He pointed at the patch, as if it explained everything. “Because that’s Elias. That’s who that is. I’ve watched him my whole damn life. He kept Lucian alive. He kept every one of us alive.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “I organize files. I spy on people. I blackmail politicians. I don’t do…” He gestured helplessly at the cut. “…that.”

I stayed quiet, letting him spill everything he’d been holding inside.

“I don’t even know what the hell a Sergeant-at-Arms actually does,” he continued. “You know what I do? I know information. I know where bodies are buried. I know who owes us money. I know who’s cheating on their wives. I know how to disappear.” He looked at me, eyes searching, desperate for understanding. “I don’t know how to be Elias.”

“You don’t.”

He blinked, thrown off. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you to be Elias.”

Silence, thick and uncertain.

I pushed the cut back towards him. “I asked you to be Jinx.”

His gaze searched mine, looking for a catch, a lie, something he could refuse. He found none.

“I don’t need another Elias,” I said quietly. “There’ll never be another Elias. He earned that.” I glanced toward the hallway, picturing the older man finally getting a few hours of sleep. “So don’t try.”

I held out the cut again.

“You know what I need?” I asked.

Jinx shook his head, slow and uncertain.

“I need someone I trust. Someone who’ll step between me and a bullet without thinking twice.”

His expression softened, walls crumbling a little.

“I need someone who’ll tell me when I’m being a dumbass.”

A tiny snort slipped out. “That’s gonna happen a lot.”

“I know.”

“I need somebody who’ll drag me out of Hell if I end up there.”

I hesitated, grief twisting in my chest. “The only other person I’d trust with that…was Caleb.”

The name hung between us, a shadow neither of us could chase away.

The room went silent.

“But he’s gone,” I said finally, voice low. “So that leaves you being the only other person I fully trust.”

He voice was barely above a whisper when he answered next, "What if I screw this up?"

"You will."

He frowned. "...That's not exactly reassuring."

I shrugged. "I screw up every day."

He actually laughed. "I guess that's fair."

He looked back down at the leather resting in my hands.

Slowly... Very slowly... He reached for it.

His fingers lingered over the Sergeant-at-Arms patch. Almost afraid to touch it.

He looked up at me. "So..." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "What the hell do I do now?"

I couldn't help smiling. "You keep doing information."

He blinked. "...What?"

"I'm not taking that away from you." I folded my arms. "You're still our information guy. You'll just be my Sergeant-at-Arms too."

His eyebrows climbed. "So... I'm doing both?"

"Congratulations. I doubled your workload."

He groaned dramatically. "I knew there was a catch."