Shadow:Satan's Fury: Memphis Chapter(2)

By: L. Wilder

I was destined to live in the shadows, but thankfully, I wasn’t destined to live there alone. After years of living in my own personal hell, I became a member of Satan’s Fury and found a place where I truly belonged—a place where I would be accepted for who I was. My brothers could see the good inside of me, where I could only see darkness. My inner demons were constantly pulling at me, frantically trying to take control, and every day I fought to keep them at bay. But the fight was over. I’d just been voted in as the club’s new enforcer, and those inner demons were about to take the reins.


It was after midnight, and Murphy and I were feeling pretty unsettled as we headed into Frazier—a part of Memphis that most people avoided, especially at this time of night. For us, it wasn’t its history of crime, the dilapidated houses, or the graffiti-lined streets of this area that had us feeling uneasy. Hell, we were used to that. Instead, we were concerned about the call, Gus, our club’s president, had gotten from two of our handlers. Apparently, they’d run into some trouble and needed our help, but before they could tell him what was going on, the line went dead. That didn’t sit well with Gus. He was a man who prided himself on knowing what was going on at all times, especially when it came to his club. To make matters worse, it wasn’t the first call he’d gotten over the past few weeks. In fact, there had been several. A couple of our boys had been jumped and robbed while others had come up missing altogether. That shit just didn’t happen. Even though our runners didn’t wear a patch, they were our guys, under our protection, and everyone knew it. Whoever was fucking with our boys knew what they were doing, and there would be hell to pay.

Murphy pulled up to the curb and killed his engine. After I did the same, he turned to me and said, “Let’s go check it out.”

Eager to see what the hell was going on, he got off his bike and started down the dark, abandoned alleyway. As the club’s sergeant-at-arms, it was Murphy’s job to ensure the safety and security of the club, and he took his role seriously. Knowing that two of the men under his watch might be in danger had him on edge. I followed him down the alley, and as we headed further into the thick of darkness, an eerie feeling had me reaching for my .45. Even though we were downtown, it was quiet—too quiet, and only the low hum of rap music could be heard as I pulled my gun out of its holster. Just as we reached the second dumpster, I saw them—Spencer and Mayfield. They were two of our best handlers, and they were both lying on the ground with bullets in their heads. “Fuck.”

Murphy quickly turned, and as soon as he saw our boys on the ground, he roared, “Goddamn it!”

He rushed over to each of them, checking for any signs of life, but it was clear they were both gone. “Murph … we need to call Gus.”

Knowing Gus was going to be on the warpath when he heard the news, Murphy sighed as he reached for his phone. I listened as he described what we’d found, and even though I was standing several feet away, I could hear Gus’s reaction as his voice blared through the other end of the phone. Once they were done talking, Murphy put his burner back in his pocket and said, “Gus is sending Gunner over with a couple of prospects to pick up our boys and clean up this mess.”

I nodded, then started walking further down the alley. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I hoped to find something that might help us figure out who’d killed Spencer and Mayfield. I’d just made it over to Third Street when I saw Boon Franklin sitting in his car. He was one of those guys who was always into something, and when he saw me walking towards him, his face grew pale. In a blink of an eye, he’d started his engine and sped off. Clearly there was something up, so I walked back to Murphy and informed him, “I just saw Boon Franklin parked around the corner, and he took off as soon as he saw me.”

“Boon Franklin? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Who’s he running with these days?”

“Not sure. Might be worth finding out because something tells me, one way or another, he’s behind this.”

Turns out I was right.

It hadn’t taken Riggs long to track him down using his cell phone, and once they ran him down, he and Blaze brought him back to the holding room at the clubhouse. Gus left it up to me to find out everything I could about his involvement with Spencer and Mayfield’s deaths. I stood in the corner smoking a cigarette as I watched him whimper and whine like a wounded animal. I’d been working him over for around four hours and he’d yet to talk, but I wasn’t worried. I was just getting started. By the time I’d gotten done with him, he’d tell me exactly what I needed to know. Without moving from my spot, I growled, “I’m not a man who likes to repeat myself, Boon.”

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