Prologue
Ashton “Asher” Miller
Long had I waited for this day, a man with no home and plenty of enemies.
For what had felt like an eternity, I had wandered the streets of Phoenix alone, fully aware of what my then-MC president would do to me if I returned without a deal. I kept my hood over my head, my eyes cast low, and my ears perked up. While I may not have let myself be a part of any one club, I needed to see what unfolded.
I was no fool. I may have been a member of the King’s Men, but my ultimate allegiance was to what let me survive. Loyalty was to a set of circumstances, not to an individual.
Only once before had I totally thrown myself into an individual, promised myself all of me to…to her. Just the fucking pronoun, let alone her name, tensed my body. And now…
Well, now, I fucking focused on the task at hand. Because while one half of the reason for laying low and observing was to figure out if the Devil’s Patriots would ever get their shit together, the other half was having an excuse not to think abouther.
I walked up to Satan’s home. Had they gotten their shit together? No, not really. Quite the opposite, in fact.
But I knew what it felt like to fucking hit rock bottom. It had a way of forcing you to get your shit together, even if you weren’t ready to.
Me? Rock bottom made me realize the manipulative ways of King. It made me realize that I was in no fucking place to even consider Callie—her—ever again.
And eventually, it made me realize something crucial for the Devil’s Patriots, something I’d had my suspicions about but was now fully convinced of.
I just had to hope Satan wouldn’t shoot me in the face before I could get the information out.
I went right up to the front door and pressed the doorbell. There was no hesitation. If they shot me, so what? I’d spent countless months acting as if I’d already died. If they threatened to kill me—or actually did kill me—it was as if I had died before.
I heard multiple footsteps on the other side, all moving cautiously, surely into position to fire. This was probably for the better, although for me to say why was for me to speak outta my ass. But the one question I could provide a “why” to?
I need to speak fast. Because if I don’t, they’ll shoot me.
The front door swung open. For the fastest of split seconds, I saw Satan standing there, the briefest glimpse of surprise on his face. Behind him, I could see movement in the shadows, likely of his son and his sergeant-at-arms. But only Satan concerned me right now.
Especially because that split second had ended and a gun had moved in its place.
“I know you want to shoot me.”
He hadn’t so far. That was more than I expected.
“You’d be extremely foolish to do so, though,” I said, surprising myself with the calmness of my voice. “I may be the only person who can help you right now.”
“The fuck are you doing, showing your face here?”
Saving my own ass, for starters.
“You think after everything that’s happened, I’d let myself get killed going back there? Fuck no.”
It was probably the one completely true thing I’d say tonight. I had no intention of backstabbing the Devil’s Patriots, but again, priority one through ninety-nine was my own ass.
“Really, I shouldn’t be coming to you either. But I know that while you may beat my ass, you won’t kill me. At least not without me getting a chance to explain myself.”
“Better start doing that, fucker.”
I felt more confident that I wasn’t going to get shot outside. But I couldn’t say the same if Satan let me in. All I could do now was throw him the meat that would give the Devil’s Patriots their best shot against the King’s Men.
“You won’t win,” I said as coldly as I could. “King doesn’t just have resources; he has connections that have resources. He’ll replenish his forces and resources five times over if he has to. You’re not going to beat him the way you’re fighting now.”
“We’re starting to get that fucking sense. Tell us something that won’t make me kill you.”
“I was in there once. I know their weak points.”
