Chapter Forty-Six
Massimo
“Mr. Vitale, we will be landing in Knoxville, Tennessee, in one hour and forty-five minutes,” Fritz, our family pilot, announced over the intercom as the plane began to taxi down the runway.
I sat by the window, watching the clouds drift past as the world sped by beneath us. My fingers kept tapping at my watch, the steady tick echoing the frantic rhythm of my heart. Every second felt both endless and far too short. After Milo revealed the truth, I didn’t hesitate. Panic and adrenaline took over. Guilio immediately called Fritz to prepare the jet, while Dominic and Aurelio hurried to pack whatever we might need in Tennessee.
It had been years since I’d set foot in Tennessee. The memories returned in a rush—crisp autumn leaves, winding mountain roads, the heavy scent of wood smoke. My chest tightened at the thought. I wasn’t sure if the knot in my stomach was dread about what we’d find or the haunting familiarity of returning to a place I’d tried to forget.
The Tennessee Chapter of the Golden Skulls was based near the Virginia border, hidden deep within the Smoky Mountains. Unlike the Mother Chapter in California, these men lived by their own code and fiercely protected their territory. Their ties ran deep in the local community, and outsiders were rarely welcomed.
The chapter’s bonds went beyond mere brotherhood. Jessica Banks, half-sister to Reaper, served as a bridge between two powerful clubs—she was also the niece of Callum “King” Montclair, president of the Sons of Hell MC in Rosewood, Virginia. By marrying Lucas “Savage” Keller, a Golden Skulls member now acting as the Tennessee Chapter’s president, Jessica united the two clubs through both blood and loyalty. Some members were family by birth, others by marriage, and the rest by hard-earned trust forged on the road.
The web of loyalties and bloodlines pressed in on me, more tangled now than ever. Jessica was fierce and wildly respected. She held sway over Savage in a way no one else could; she was also his anchor and, sometimes, his conscience.
She was also the only person Savage was deathly afraid of.
With Oliver safely ensconced among these interconnected families, the truth of his involvement would make my job harder to explain if he got Miranda’s family on his side. It was bad enough that my wife adored Oliver and considered him her closest friend. I refused to think about what Oliver’s deception would do to her. My part was bad enough. I knew showing up unannounced wouldn’t be received warmly, and I would accept whatever came my way, but I refused to let Oliver enact his revenge on my wife. She was innocent. If he wanted to kill someone, then he needed to focus his attention on me and leave my wife the hell alone.
Guilio slumped in his seat, the plane’s dim overhead light catching the tension in his jaw as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I tried calling Savage,” he groaned, voice muffled as he stared at his phone. “Asshole hung up on me.”
I let a brittle laugh slip past my lips, the tension in the cabin palpable. “Savage trusts almost no one outside of Jessica. If you want to get through to him, you need to go over his head. Call King—tell him everything, straight. King is Jessica’s uncle, andhe’s got the kind of authority Savage can’t ignore. And Jessica? She’s the only one who can pull Savage back from the edge when he’s ready to burn the world down. Remember, Guilio—don’t try to sweet-talk King. He’s like Jessica. He’s survived too much to fall for lies. They’ll respect honesty, not flattery.”
Guilio muttered curses under his breath, tapping the numbers into his phone with trembling fingers, the blue glow of the screen sharpening the worry lines around his eyes as he dialed King.
Aurelio broke the silence with a soft cough, his shadow flickering across the seatback in the low light. “Luca texted,” he said quietly. “Cesar is home resting and wants hourly updates.”
I ignored my brother, choosing instead to press my forehead gently against the cool metal of the plane’s hull. Outside the small window, the world blurred past, but my thoughts were anchored firmly in the past. My mind wandered back to the day when everything changed—the day my wife discovered the truth I had kept hidden. The memory was relentless. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the image of the pain etched in her eyes, a pain I had caused. The hurt ran deep; it was a wound I had inflicted, the direct result of my choices. In my desperate need to avenge my family’s name, I had carelessly shattered the love we shared, leaving it in ruins. That realization haunted me, an ache that would not fade.
Lost in my misery, I jolted when I felt my phone vibrate unexpectedly. My heart pounded as I reached inside my coat, fingers trembling slightly from the weight of my thoughts. Drawing my phone free, I swiped my thumb over the illuminated screen, the familiar motion grounding me in reality for a fleeting moment. Instantly, I stiffened in my seat, all sense of comfort vanishing as I sat up straighter, bracing myself for whatever message awaited. With a deliberate breath, I clicked on the waiting text message, dread knotting in my chest.
Unknown: Fail, and your brother will pay the price.
Growling, I quickly replied.
Me: Don’t threaten me, Sinclair.
Unknown: It wasn’t a threat.
In the next instant, a picture appeared on my screen. Sitting next to my brother Cesar was Crispin Sinclair. I stared at the screen, pulse racing, the corners of my vision blurring with a red haze of anger and fear. Every instinct screamed at me to lash out, to demand answers, but I forced myself to steady my breathing. The man knew too much—enough to threaten the head of my family. The cabin felt smaller, the air heavier, suffused with dread that, for once, wasn’t just mine to bear.
With a sharp snap of my fingers, I caught Guilio’s attention. He rose from his seat and moved to sit beside me, his gaze immediately falling to the illuminated screen of my phone that I held out for him to see.
“Shit,” my brother muttered, his voice tense with concern. He turned to Aurelio, issuing a quick command: “Aurelio, send Tomasso a text. Tell him we have an uninvited guest visiting Cesar.”
Without hesitation, Aurelio complied, tapping out the message and sending it off in seconds.
Frustration boiled over, and I couldn’t keep my voice down. “Are you crazy?” I shouted, snatching my phone back from Guilio just as he began composing a message on his own device.
Guilio’s response was low but fierce. “I told you before, Massimo,” he said, his tone edged with warning. “Sinclair is way out of your league. Let me show you how to deal with him.”
Before I could react, I watched Guilio’s fingers fly across his phone, sending off a message with practiced efficiency.
Guilio: Good morning, Sinclair. I’m sure Don Vitale appreciates your company, but let me remind you that while you are a visitor in our home, your family is left unattended.
With that, Guilio sent a picture along with the text, showing a large, tattooed biker convalescing in an undisclosed location somewhere, sitting next to a beautiful woman holding a precious little girl.
Guilio: As you can see, my reach is far as well. Enjoy your visit with Don Vitale, Sinclair. I look forward to our next meeting.
