All eyes looked at Kansas, who now stood stiffly facing the window as he looked out over the desolate, dry Oklahoma landscape. His knuckles were white where he gripped the sill, the wood groaning under the pressure.
I knew a war raged deep inside him. To kill Pence was to embrace the darkness they claimed to fight against. To spare him was to risk becoming a target, to invite further chaos into their already precarious existence. They’d all sworn an oath to protect their club, but what kind of protection was it if it demanded the shedding of innocent blood to maintain?
Silence crackled, tense and expectant, as everyone waited for his response.
The Biker Federation was ruthless, volatile, deadly. We made our own rules, paved a way through blood, sweat and tears for a world we wanted to live in, chose to live in. A world that had encompassed many hardened men who vowed without a second thought to protect kids from the realities of this fucked-up world.
Myself included.
Finally, Kansas let out a slow, unsteady breath, the sound ragged in the oppressive silence. The internal battle had left him drained; the resolve he usually possessed fractured. He was about to speak when the door to church opened and in walked the motherfucker himself, grinning from ear to ear. The sight of Pence, so oblivious, so alive, sent a fresh wave of disgust through me. The primal urge to end him clawed at me. I saw the glint of steel in Montana’s eyes, a mirror of the same violent impulse that was fighting for dominance within me.
Before Kansas could even form the words, Montana reached for his gun and fired.
The sharp crack of the shot echoed, not just in the room, but in the hollow space that opened up in Pence’s forehead.
I hadn’t stopped him.
Wasn’t even going to.
Justice had been served.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Karlyn
We’d been at Trudy’s enjoying a good cup of coffee and some cinnamon rolls when Grace told me a little bit about her life. My eyes found Indigo’s a few tables away and watched him stiffen, and I knew he had heard everything that Grace had said. I didn’t know what to think. I was shocked and angry considering what had happened in my past. I wanted to believe on some level that she wouldn’t have gone through it, but I really didn’t know her that well.
“Maureen is in labor.” Johnny smiled as he walked over to us. “Her water broke in church, and King and Ravage took her to the hospital. We need to go.”
Grace got up and looked at me. “Are you coming with me?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but I slowly nodded anyway, saying, “If that’s where Jackson is, I’ll go.”
Grace and Johnny headed for the door as I slid out of my seat, Indigo standing right next to me, saying nothing when he quickly grabbed me, turning me away from the glass window right before it shattered. Stumbling forward, I looked back just in time to see Indigo fall to his knees as he coughed up blood.
“Run, baby,” he managed to rasp before falling to the floor.
Time seemed to slow down as chaos erupted all around us. The air was thick with the sound of shattering glass and the acrid scent of gunpowder. My heart hammered in my chest, adrenaline surging as I instinctively ducked behind anoverturned table. Panic flickered in my eyes, but there was no time to process my fear—only to react.
I heard Grace scream for Johnny as gunfire rang out.
Scrambling fast, I kept low as I tried to make my way toward the back of the bakery.
I could barely make out the shadows moving—figures clad in leather with the familiar menacing insignias, their faces twisted with violence and purpose. The Death Dogs had come looking for blood, and in that instant, the safety of Trudy’s was obliterated. I crawled, hands shaking, searching for Grace in the chaos, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the gunfire intensified. Reaching for the knife in my boot, I heard Grace scream again, cursing as a Death Dog grabbed her. She fought hard, trying to get away when he hauled back and punched her in the face, knocking her out.
“Find the other cunt!” a Death Dog shouted. “We need to get the fuck out of here!”
Terror seized my throat as I pressed myself tighter against the cold tile, trying to shrink into invisibility. The din of boots pounding on the floor was deafening as men flipped over tables, desperate to locate me. Each muffled curse and barked order from the Death Dogs sliced through the haze of fear. My mind screamed to move, but my body felt frozen—paralyzed by the nightmare unfolding around me. I forced myself to breathe, desperate to steady my shaking hands long enough to grip my knife and crawl toward the faint outline of an emergency exit, praying I wouldn’t be seen.
“Gotcha!” Hands reached for me and I screamed, turning fast, jabbing my knife deep into his groin. He screamed bloody murder, and I watched in horror as the man stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he cupped his crotch, my knife embedded deeply in his dick.
My own scream was a raw, animal sound that ripped from the depths of my soul as I scrambled backward, my free hand fumbling for the emergency exit. The Death Dog’s agony was a fleeting victory, a small flicker of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. I didn’t know if he would live or die, but for now, he was out of the picture. Grace was somewhere, her fate unknown, and Indigo lay bleeding on the floor. This was no longer just a fight for survival; it was a desperate race against time.
I burst through the emergency exit, only to run into the one man I prayed I’d never see again as his rough hands grabbed me tightly. His venomous sneer loomed down at me as he licked his lips in victory.
“Hello, bitch. Remember me?”
My vision blurred, my world a dizzying mess of pain and encroaching darkness. His voice, a guttural sneer, echoed with a sickening familiarity, confirming my worst fears.
