Ghost
The second I heard the front door blow, I ran toward the main room and watched in horror as my clubhouse flooded with Death Dogs and Satan’s Angels shooting at my brothers, friends, allies, and anyone associated with our club.
My first thought was, I wasn’t supposed to be here. Sinclair hadn’t trusted King to keep his son safe. But Tank was with the women. He wasn’t here in the middle of this shit.
I raised my gun and took aim. I was playing a fucking game of whac-a-mole. For every man that went down, two more ran through the hole in the clubhouse.
How the fuck did they get close enough to blow up the fucking door? I carefully aimed my gun to protect my brothers. Romeo, the stupid fuck, didn’t have his gun out. The motherfucking Cajun was traipsing through the room with his fucking Bowie knife. Slicing throats as he moved from one man to another.
I pulled the trigger, and the man behind him dropped. Rome looked my way with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine. He might act like the fun-loving playboy, but he was just as deranged as his cousin Gator.
There were only a few men here I didn’t recognize, but I recognized the cut. It was the same one my baby brother wore. Tucker was a bastard. We both were. Except he wore the name with pride. He’d leaned into it in a way that had me afraid for him every fucking day of his life.
I searched the room to see if he was here when I saw another brother I would give my life for. He shouldn’t fucking be out here; his place was locked in a room, safe behind his fucking screens.
I tore through the room, taking aim as I made my way to Sypher. A man with a Satan’s Angels’ cut was sneaking up behind him. That was his mistake. I realized quickly, he wasn’t trying to kill him. He wanted to take him.
Every fucking club wanted him. But they couldn’t fucking have him. He belonged to us. Me, Mellie, and Dante. We were a family. Unconventional sure, but a family nonetheless.
I stuck my gun in the waistband at my back as I hopped over a man bleeding on the floor. I roared as I tackled the asshole to the floor, wrapping my hands around his head and snapping his neck.
Sypher spun around, and I saw his shoulders drop. He held out a hand, helping me up. “Thanks, brother,” he said, just before his eyes went wide. I felt the sting in my chest and looked down, Sypher’s hand still holding mine.
We watched as the blood spread out across my shirt, the fabric absorbing what it could. I looked up at my daughter’s father. My old lady’s best friend’s husband, and I knew by the look on his face there was nothing he could do.
As I fell to the floor, Sypher went down with me. His hand held the back of my head as if a concussion was his biggest concern.
“Ghost, hold on!”
I shook my head. I knew this was it. I’d never see my princess again. Never hold Danika and comfort her after a nightmare. Never again have a beer with my brothers.
Never meet my child.
“Tell Mellie I’m sorry, Danny. Tell her I love her.”
Cerberus
“Fuck off, old man,” my stubborn son snapped as he tried to push past me. The little fucker was seriously overdue an ass-whoopin’, and I had no fucking problem with throwing him over my damn knee... if I could catch the little bastard.
Storming after him, I shouted, “Would you just fucking stop and listen to me!”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear. Leave me alone.”
Growling, I raked my hands through my hair and mumbled, “If you weren’t my son...”
“You’d what, old man?” The little shit rounded on me, pointing his little fucking finger in my chest. “You think I like having you as a sperm donor? Trust me, you’re no picnic either.”
“Damn it, Junior, this is serious!” I roared, slapping his hand away. “I need to tell you something about your mother!”
My son stepped closer, getting in my face. “DON’T. YOU. EVER. CALL. ME. THAT!”
I smirked. “Aw, did I hit a nerve,Junior?”
“I fucking hate you,” he snarled, pushing past me once more, heading in the direction we just came from. Groaning, I turned and followed him again.
“You don’t have all the information. Your mother wasn’t...”
Just then the front doors of the clubhouse blew open and in stormed a multitude of Death Dogs and Satan’s Angels. Not thinking, I grabbed my son from behind and literally lifted him off his feet, quickly shoving him in the nearest room I could find. With a swift kick in his ass, I hurled him away from me and firmly ordered, “STAY PUT!” I slammed the door shut, firmly locking it as gunfire rang out all around. I could hear him banging on the door, shouting at me, cursing me to hell and back, demanding I let him out of the room.
