By day three, I could cut the tension with a knife. Roxy sat on the couch, holding Melissa’s hand as they both stared at Danika, who sat quietly on the floor, coloring in one of her books with crayons, oblivious to the world going on around her. Dante paced near the window, his phone in his hand, almost willing it to ring, when they turned as my cellphone rang.
“Tell me.”
Dante stopped moving, his eyes focused on me as Roxy and Melissa slowly stood, tears once more rolling down her face as she clutched Roxy’s hand tightly. The wait seemed endless, almost unbearable as everyone held their breath.
I knew the second I saw the caller ID, the news wasn’t going to be good.
The war had started.
“Well?” Dante, unable to stay quiet a moment longer, asked.
“That was my contact at the Diamond Creek sheriff’s office. The Death Dogs are attacking the clubhouse.”
Roxy held Melissa tight as she cried. The older woman’s voice was rough as she snapped, “Aren’t they helping?”
I shook my head. “No, Roxy. Sheriff O’Rourke ordered them to stay away. I also just learned that the sheriff’s department, along with the Irish Mob, got the women and children out of Nebraska, along with the wounded.”
“My baby? What about my boy?” Roxy demanded as she looked over at Dante, who sighed, shaking his head and smirking.
“I fucking knew it. He stayed, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
The second I confirmed his fears, Dante threw his phone across the room, falling to his knees as he screamed out Danny’s name.
Moving quickly, I scooped up a frightened Danika and got her out of the house. Holding her tight, I rushed toward the beach, trying to put distance between the shouts and curses coming from the house.
The salty air stung my eyes as I hurried down the worn path, Danika trembling in my arms. Each step away from the chaos inside the house brought a mix of relief and guilt; behind me, the world seemed to be unraveling. I could still hear Melissa’s anguished cries, Roxy’s anger, and Dante’s fears echoing through the night, a haunting reminder of everything they stood to lose.
Chapter Twelve
Rowen
The wait was the hardest.
The emotional toll had reached an all-time high as Roxy, Melissa and Dante waited to hear news about their loved ones. The turmoil bombarding them was overwhelming and relentless. Each passing moment felt stretched, filled with worry, fear, and hope, mingling together in a tangled mess as their thoughts raced, imagining both the best and worst possible outcomes, while a heavy sense of helplessness settled in, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Through it all, I stood by and did nothing.
What could I do?
Each tick of the clock dragged out the uncertainty that weighed heavily on all of them. Even as I kept Danika occupied, my thoughts kept drifting back to the others—wondering if Ghost and Sypher were safe, if they survived, or if heartbreak waited around the corner. In that darkness, hope flickered restlessly, refusing to be fully extinguished.
“Unka Row, why Mommy sad?”
Holding her closer, I ran my hand over her curly blonde hair and sighed. “Because she’s scared, sweetheart.”
“Why?”
I hesitated, searching for the right words in the heavy silence. “Because sometimes, when people we love are far away or in trouble, it’s natural to be scared. Mommy just wants everyone to be safe, that’s all.” Danika looked at me, eyes wide and curious, as if trying to piece together a world much bigger than herself.
I offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping it would be enough to comfort her, even just for a moment. The room felt too quiet, heavy with worry and anticipation, and I wished I could promise her that everything would be alright—though the words themselves felt too fragile to trust. As Danika nestled closer, I realized how much the little gestures of support mattered, even when answers were nowhere in sight.
Hours dragged by before any real news reached us, each minute stretching tighter around my chest. The house felt suffocating, every breath shallow, as I tucked Danika into bed and slipped downstairs. My palms were clammy, and my heartbeat thumped in my ears as I made my way to the office.
Roxy and Melissa were already there, clustered together like survivors clinging to a lifeboat. Dante was on the phone, his voice clipped. He put the call on speaker as I leaned in the doorway, my pulse rattling in my wrists.
“Just tell us, Wyatt,” Dante said, his tone iron-hard as Deputy Wyatt, an officer at the Diamond Creek sheriff’s office, was the lifeline to whatever had unfolded outside.
I steadied myself, bracing for whatever came next.
