“Yes, but most don’t want to change, and the others are happy with the way things are. It needs an outsider to begin something new. It needs someone like us,” Arthur said.
“Someone like you?” My brain scrambled. “Why?”
Instead of answering my question, Arthur asked one of his own. “What draws people to bike Clubs? Why do men willingly turn their back on the law and embrace illegal acts knowing it could get them hurt, thrown in jail, or worse—killed?”
I shrugged, my skin prickling with chill. The tulle and corset of my dress imprisoned me, forcing me to listen to his huge ideals. Arthur’s green eyes pierced mine, waiting for a reply. I tried to recall why men had begged for the opportunity to become a Dagger. But everything was polluted by Rubix and the lifestyle they preferred over the one Arthur granted. “Um … the love of lawlessness?”
Samson jumped in. “That’s what I always thought, but thanks to Arthur, my eyes have been opened.”
Arthur said, “I have my own issues with the government. The judicial system leaves a lot to be desired. They believed lies formed by my own father and let your attempted murder go unpunished, sentencing you to eight years with no memory, living all alone.” His voice turned coarse. “Those reasons are personal and no one else’s. Unless it hits them at a deeper level, no one cares about what I’ve been through, or you, or any other stranger. It took me a long time to decide if my reasons for doing this were purely selfish or warranted.”
I shifted in the chair, completely absorbed by his righteous anger.
Arthur smiled, telling me with a simple look how deeply immersed he was. “I couldn’t decide, even after soul-searching. So, I put it to a vote. I traveled to numerous biker gangs and spoke to many presidents. I asked them all one thing.”
“And what was that?” I placed my unwanted drink on the side table and clasped my chilled fingers in the bushel of tulle.
Arthur smiled grimly. “Why do they do it? Why turn their backs on society?”
“And their answer?”
Arthur looked to Samson. “You want to do the honors?”
Samson ran a hand over his short hair. “The unanimous answer was: because they were sick of being stolen from by a system disguised as the law. They were sick of having their rights tampered with, their wives’ rights, their future children’s rights. They were sick of a future where obedience was punished and lies were granted rewards. That’s why they sought a different kind of life.”
Arthur nodded. “Sure, there are men who crave the forbidden, the danger, and the downright seedy aspect of living outside the law. Those men will never fit in with society, no matter how it conformed. Rape will never be okay. Robbery will never be okay. But the majority of men I spoke to are hard workers. Ex-army, ex-navy, and men who have given their lives to a corporation only to be royally fucked in return. Families live harmonious existences in the Club with laws that protect each other and their assets rather than penalize them. Sure, a few are still archaic with the way authority is run, but ultimately, they treat most members fairly and choose to live off the grid to protect their loved ones, not to boycott society.”
I nodded, my mind swimming. “That sounds like the reasons why my father started Dagger Rose. He wanted a sanctuary for hardworking loyal people who were sick of being lied to by the men and women who were supposed to protect their livelihood and futures.”
“Exactly.” Arthur slapped his hand on his knee. “Once I took over the Corrupts and made them Pure Corruption, our main goal was to be honest and courteous but be ruthless to protect what we’d created.”
Samson stole the conversation. “That’s all we’re trying to do. We’re trying to show the country what they can have in a society that is out to help them again. Not focused on stealing their rights or taking away their future. I’m not saying the entire protocol is shady, but there are a few men in power that shouldn’t be there. They have to be stopped. And sooner rather than later, before they pick another war or introduce yet another privacy invading requirement that strips all our rights away.”
My heart raced. “You’re talking about taking on the largest organization in the world.”
“Not taking it on,” Samson said. “Improving it.”
Arthur took my hand, stroking my knuckles with a calloused thumb. “We aren’t out to bring anarchy to the country, Buttercup. We’re out to show the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kill
What qualified another to dictate what I could and couldn’t be?
What right did anyone have over another?
My father had given me life, but did that give him the right to beat me if I didn’t obey?
My brother shared my blood, but did that give him the right to taunt and manipulate me?
I didn’t need an answer. I already had one.
Nobody had the right to make another do what they didn’t want to—especially when it was wrong. —Kill, age fourteen
It was done.
My ultimate plan was out in the open and Cleo knew everything.
My steadfast concentration over almost a decade was aired, admitted, and alive. Trading hadn’t been for wealth or prestige—it was to finance the largest operation in reform we’d ever seen. Pure Corruption’s overhaul wasn’t for Wallstreet’s enjoyment; it wasn’t so small-minded to be about the members or our way of life—it was to show the world that communions who put their followers first thrived. It was to show that men voted into power had the responsibility to govern and direct without constant manipulation or supervision.