PROLOGUE
Shadow
A Few Years Ago…
The rain hammers against the tin roof of the clubhouse like bullets, each drop a sharp crack in the heavy Texas night.
I'm in the back office, going through supply invoices that should've been handled weeks ago, when I hear it.
A sound that cuts through the storm and the scratch of my pen on paper.
A gunshot.
I'm on my feet before my brain fully processes what I heard, my hand already reaching for the Glock holstered at my hip.
Training and instinct take over—weapon drawn, safety off, moving fast and quiet through the hallway.
The clubhouse is nearly empty tonight.
Phantom took most of the boys on a run to Dallas, some supply pickup that required numbers.
I stayed behind to watch the ranch and make sure nothing goes sideways while the Prez is gone.
It's just me, Shiver—Phantom's son, Grace's older brother—and Bronco.
Bronco. The newly patched VP.
The man Phantom just arranged to marry his daughter.
My jaw clenches at the thought, but I shove it down.
Not my business. Not my place to question the Prez's decisions about his family.
Even when those decisions make my stomach turn.
I round the corner into the main room and freeze.
Bronco's on the floor, a neat hole between his eyes, blood pooling beneath his head.
His expression is frozen in surprise, like he didn't see it coming. Like he thought he was untouchable.
Shiver's standing over the body, gun still in his hand, smoke curling from the barrel.
His chest is heaving, knuckles bloody and split, face carved from stone and rage.
There's blood on his shirt—some of it his, some of it probably Bronco's from whatever fight happened before the shot.
But Grace isn't here.
The room is empty except for Shiver and the corpse.
"What the fuck happened?" My voice comes out low, deadly calm.
Shiver's eyes snap to me, wild and unfocused for a moment before recognition sets in.
His gun hand is shaking now, the adrenaline starting to wear off.
"He raped her." Three words. Flat. Final. "My sister. That piece of shit raped Grace."
