A month later, what would come next would be known as the Saintly-Angelic War. Following the abduction of Raelyn Winston, the Saints had responded with anger and The Angels businesses all over the country were targeted as were members of Law Enforcement who were on the payroll of the FAMC. 

Following that, removals had come about, on the side of the Winstons, they had lost footholds throughout Spokane, Tacoma, and Seattle. Of course, it left Las Vegas and Los Angeles, especially California ripe for business. Yet the Angels continued to push them out and it set up a smooth act, Fallen Angel MCs targeted places of value, especially in New York with the mother charter being at the top of the table. 

With this came a Bloody Monday, The MC had slowly built itself back up but business had been suffering, calls from Issei and the Irish Supporters were being given. They, the MC, were either going to solve the problem of Tariq Winston or it would be solved without them being their lead in the states. 

Yet it never came, instead, the Winstons led an assault on the Angels and it left all parties reeling. Now was the time, Tariq was going to be dying soon enough, that was what led to know, the vote of all votes.

"Listen, I respect the tribe and what they've done but for this, the answer is easy. We need them, the Aztecas and the Angels, that is some Anglo-Saxon and Dane shit but here we are. Working together, I wanna vote this in, all charters on the west coast remain allied to The Aztecas."

His words had been met with opposition, mainly the Summerlin and California, they would have been the ones that suffered most during this trip. It was going to be something that them questioning business. Drugs and the angels, they distributed and mulled that shit. Yet when it came to the Aztecas, there was a line. 

"Brother, I know, you have a respect for Canche and Angel but this, right here, this patch, it ain't what I signed on for. Allying with Aztecas, what would cost us and our routes, the Irish guns? We've built this charter brother...I ain't having wrenched from me."

Meeting his brother's eyes, the President of South Cali charter, down there, they had plenty of run-ins with the Aztecas and none of them was good for the business they were trying to promote, a four-way table. Powerful they would be together, the guns, the drugs, the women, and the money would flow. 

"This isn't about Canche, this is about the Aztecas and Angels, putting this shit behind us man. Call the vote, talk to the charter presidents and we've agreed, with the mother charter for the Aztecas here in Las Vegas, the rest would follow or break off. From there, it's fair game, got that chief? We're putting that for a vote, now."

Meeting the eyes of every other number one and two in the table room, he knew this was going to be a close vote but it was for the best, otherwise, it was something that would make or break this club in the end...

Mikey knew that he was mixing business and pleasure, it would more than please him to be able to work with the Aztecas, they would, in the end, be a better bet for all the parties...

The vote was not as clean as he thought it would be, close as it was, they would not be working with the Aztecas and it left them with one option, they would have to fight Tariq and that would be something else, it left Mike to think, since then, all the Presidents had left and it was just him, sitting alone in the table room. 

A life like this, watching business burn, watching his brothers sacrifice themselves for the badge, for the life, for the business they all dealt in. Yet now he had something in front of him, journals, the moments of each President, National. Charlie Pavanno and Estarossa, the last in the line of the former Presidency and he had brought them with him, considering that Roman gave them to him. 

His family had kept this to themselves, this was their legacy, the last of it and for a moment, he knew he shouldn't have been reading this. Only it brought him here, to this level, to this structure, he needed it. 

Greed: How The Angles fought for their place in the world and will not lose it.

That was the title, it seemed that they had added this on and wished for a President to read it, of course, it allowed him to see why Roman often worked his way to fighting in such a way. This book, this script, it gave him all he needed, a Proxy, a bigger animal, one that was rabid and could be controlled. 

"PROSPECT!"

Rushing in, Oak stuck his head inside the table room and looked like he was almost trying to keep himself from pissing right there. Shaking his head, Mike motioned for him to sit at the table. 

"Uh-"

"What the fuck did I say Oak?"

Shaking his head, the prospect sat down and waited for his President to give him what would no doubt be some bullshit errand. Of course, he saw the look in his eyes and this was as serious as anything else. 

"It's business, and now I need you to find me, someone, alright?"

"Who?"

Reaching into his kutte, he pulled out a picture and slid the images of a family. The Winstons, it had been a good month and in that time, he was prepared to fight Tariq. Even if it meant he would have to turn in his kutte to do so, there had been enough damage. 

"You understand this kid? Find them and we'll be able to end this whole business with Winston, especially with his sister being under our care. It'll be an easy thing to push after this."

Shaking his head, the prospect nodded and took the picture, hoping something would come. If they could find the scattered members, there was going to be something here. Something that changed Tariq, all they needed was a guardian angel. 

Nodding his head, Mike reached once again into his kutte and gave the prospect a wad of cash. He would be able to provide some information, he was sure on that regard, it was for the best, The Winstons would be done. 

Raelyn had never felt like she had been under the thumb of the Angels before, she knew they were making plans, they needed her for something. Except she had been given space, she could walk about and simply get what she wished, yet as soon as she made a move, guards followed after her, guns in hand. 

There was that time, she was not given too much freedom. She was very a prisoner of war, now she was facing the council, the three horsemen. The ones that led the Host in Vegas, giving them small glances she kept her head high. She was sure her brother had been making himself a nuisance, one that could easily make himself King. 

"Raelyn, it's a pleasure. I am sure you know who I am?"

Michael Marx, Son of the King, yet here was something about him. His eyes, they held something his mother never did. There was something even she couldn't figure out. He was the next National President, yet many now wondered where he would take his patch. 

Leave it here where he had now spent the majority of his time or take it back East with him. It left much to be desired, especially with the relationship in the West with the Aztecas. It wasn't something that could be improved now, that was clear. 

"Everyone knows you, Michael. From here to England, the prodigal son, the one to replace the Old King. I mean, you certainly have a way of bringing the riches of your family here. Masters in negotiation, a man of business and of means. A man that can easily reach inside his kutte and strike me dead, correct?"

She leaned forward, the tiny bit of freedom giving her a bit of more leeway in this meeting. They wished for information on her brother, he was blood, that meant everything in this world. He couldn't ride in here like a man possessed, he had to play it smart. Killing their brothers meant that they would easily strike her dead as well. Any chance at getting her back was null and void. 

"You flatter me, we're here to discuss putting to bed the war with one another. You for the Saints and its streetly soldiers. I, representing the Western FAMC. Out East, my father deals with yours and vice versa, I hear the Angels are easily gaining ground in this war."

It got her attention, her father wasn't built for war and his time in New York, especially now when the Angels were more focused out West. It was clear, there seemed to be a split within the ranks and a plan was already forming in her head to take the maximum amount of advantage. 

Pausing briefly, she noticed the smokes laying behind her, with reluctant pause she took one and lit it soon after, taking relief in the calming effect it brought her moments later. 

"We're not here to discuss old men in the present, Michael. We're here to discuss the Future, non? I have a feeling I was not called for a simplistic bonding over fathers."

He chuckled before leaning forward with a gleam in his eye that she did not like, he was a master at the time and one that was steadily proving to be an annoyance to her. He had abducted her, his [Sgt. At Arms] already proved to think with her brain rather than dick. 

"Actually no, your brother's past. He spent some time with a family out in Tacoma. The Six-Five or commonly known as Hiezcloslaw Clan. A famed group of armed robbers, who dealt in their own hardware. I'd like for all that you can tell me, otherwise, your life is forfeit."

And she smirked, believing him to not have the guts,  only to then have the barrel of a Mars Automatic Pistol pressed against the back of her skull...

"Now, I've had enough. This happens Rae, either you step up and your brother dies or you die and your brother dies, along with your entire family. Root and motheruckin' stem! It's been too long, our business must get back to the way it is meant to be, people die for that to happen. There is no peace without first a little blood, what is your choice?"

Prospecting for the Las Vegas chapter of the Angels in the past, Quinn never thought she would see it get to this, pressing the favoured gun of all the Angels against the back of a Raelyn Winston, yet she found herself okay with having to become that kind of monster. 

"You can't-"

"WAKE UP LITTLE RAE! I fucking can and I fucking am! It's over, either you die at the table or I fucking kill your brother, allow you to take the seat but with reduced means. That comes later, say it now or go rest in peace."

Once again, she pressed the barrel harder against the back of her skull. It was clear that she hadn't expected this, for a moment she seemed ready to run, not willing to sacrifice herself and yet not willing to give up family. 

It was a wondrous thing that made Quinn smirk a little. Yet she wasn't losing sight on her goal here. Hyper focused and with a need, it was obvious that she couldn't let it go, not like this and while the lass may have been beautiful, she was surely a woman of the club. One that had earned her office at the table, that wasn't going to be changing, not at all. 

"That family, I have nothing to say about them, they're dead, buried and they're ghosts to me and mine."

"I know. That's all I needed, your brother killed the head of the family, he killed the children, he killed the siblings, he killed the entire family. Business like that is not one I can put up with. You allied yourself to a monster, regardless of familial ties. You are as worse as your brother."

Raelyn growled, she would not allow that. Her brother had survived so much, she had made him become the man he was. For them to simply discredit him, to call him a monster without even having the courage to say the word to the man himself.

It angered her, she would end up launching herself forward only to be met with a bullet in the back. She met her eyes then, the eyes of the Irish warrior coming to claim her. Looking between, she knew she was going to die. 

She waited for the nod and she received it, a cold look in the President's eyes, it was not over, not by a long shot. 

A single shot rang out then, encasing the room as both President and Right Hand simply watched the other with a grin before settling herself, deciding that this was enough. 

"Dismember her, give them out to the Saints. The violence on their part ends now."

It was not surprising for her. She was the only one he would trust to deliver such a message, it would be out on the streets, allying to the Winstons would be met with swift punishment from the Angels of the Western Coast. 

"What are they saying?"

The three of them sat at the table, it was the last Months of the war now. The Saints had quickly fallen under a new banner, allying under a Saint Julios who had given himself a name via his contributions on the other side of the war.

They had moved out to New York in quick fashion. It left Tariq on his own, the young man had taken his life during his final battles with the Angels and now there was no more war, nothing else had been needed after the main threats had been cared for.

His final moments, a battle that had consumed Vegas and everyone knew the business wasn't going to be the same again. The name, Winston had been infamous from that day on. The kid had fought though, he had continued to carry his banner, when everyone else had left, he fought with the final breaths he could take. 

He was respected in the eyes of his peers from that day as well, grudgingly, he did not abandon his place, that was something they could not forget, truly. 

Only two remained and it gave life to a few rogue gangs, yet never standing tall enough to even amount to the numbers that Tariq had gained in days. They could never hope to reach his level in that manner though.

Even if he was a monster, the man had gained some good contacts, now it was their turn to divvy up where the remains went. The Yakuza and the Pavanno's had allowed the MC to gain that ground, it gave them something to fight for. A nice holding for them, it was almost like their own victory badge. 

"We are to let Summerlin take the drugs and money operations, the Gunrunning of the Russians, we collect that into the T.I.S business. We'd have access to a bigger fucking weaponry, military-style shit. This isn't something to scoff at, we make this and we become the biggest threat to anybody right now, we have the guns, the drugs, and the money. There's an offer though."

The room got a bit tense, Mikey knew that he was going to be giving a vote that had been denied already on a Western Level, this concerned their charter. Something that could make or break a club, one that would easily give them a little more to work. 

"Avarea and Senora, we spoke to them and the discussions at large, they wanna buy Guns, large and in charge guns. We may just be taking part in the next cartel war if we vote this in guys."

There was something there, the Aztecas handled business with the Cartels. They had charters closer to the border and so did FAMC. If this went through, it could patch a hole, something that would benefit the MC long term. 

"We place it through the Santo charters, they take it and we move the distribution, it'd be work but working with the Aztecas, for a few terms it would be good for all of us brother."

Nodding their heads, it would be for the better and if they could get the Presidents down south to work with one another, it would be a whole fucking business plan that gave them a shitton profit...

"When do we bring it to the table?"

Michael shrugged, he didn't know because right now everyone was still healing from the war yet the cartel made it clear, the would wish for it in the next month or two. 

"Cartel demanded, they wanted it soon, real soon."

He looked at both Quinn and Roman, they would be the only ones to know and yet this is what was going to happen next, this is where the next chapter in their lives took them..