Gunner believed he had saved me from harm, but in truth, the threat had not truly disappeared.
Sinclair’s voice echoed softly, “He only ever wanted to protect you, Melissa. He understood that Timofey had a brother—someone who would not hesitate to seek vengeance. And he was right.”
Rowen, noticing the tremor in my hand, reached out and took it in his own. “Who was it?” he asked quietly.
Sinclair’s expression hardened, and a trace of bitterness colored his words. “The one you failed to kill,” he replied sharply. “I warned you, Rowen, that the ghosts of our pasts would return. The man you allowed to escape with his life was Jascha Mikhaylov—a trusted enforcer for Boris Petrovitch, better known in the biker world as Jasper ‘Hawk’ Michaels.”
“Son of a bitch!” Rowen shouted, jumping to his feet.
Sinclair’s jaw tightened as he continued, his voice low and urgent, “Petrovitch couldn’t get into Chicago without alerting the Valentinettis. So he sent the Mikhaylov Brothers. While both brothers managed to make a name for themselves in the underground arena, Jascha was given an additional task—he was to keep watch over the Valentinetti family and pass along information to Petrovitch. Over the years, Jascha uncovered many secrets. But when he discovered the truth about Salvatore Valentinetti, something changed. Instead of reporting back to Petrovitch, Jascha feared for his own safety. He worried he might not survive long enough to deliver the information. That was when he decided to reach out to Nolan Kelley, a contact he’d made in New York City during one of his brother’s fights.”
Confused, I interrupted, “Wait a minute. You said Travis knew. How? I never told him the man’s name.”
Sinclair’s eyes met mine, unwavering. “Ask your brother.”
My breath caught. “Gunner?” I gasped, shaking my head in disbelief. “Gunner told him?”
Sinclair’s tone softened as he addressed me. “Your brother only wanted to protect you, my dear. So did Mr. Foley, for that matter. When Mr. Foley learned that Jasper Michaels was alive and working with the Death Dogs, he came to me asking to go back.”
I slowly sat up, my eyes narrowing as I stared at Sinclair, the pounding in my chest growing heavier. I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “No. I was there when you told him he had to go.”
Sinclair’s expression was apologetic. “That was for your benefit. He didn’t want to break his promise to you, so I offered to be the fall guy. I’m sorry, Melissa. I offered to take care of the matter myself, given your current state, but Mr. Foley insisted. He said it was his responsibility to protect you, and he even went so far as to offer to protect my son.”
Anger and anguish welled up inside me, and my voice rose to a scream. “Tank was injured! He knew King would make him leave!”
Sinclair nodded in understanding. “Yes, he did, but nothing I said would change your man’s mind. He wanted to be the one to kill Jasper Michaels himself.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rowen
Sitting on the sofa next to Melissa, I hung my head in shame. The weight of my failures pressed heavily on my shoulders. If I had fulfilled my responsibilities as I should have, my brother would still be alive. Melissa would not be mourning the man she loved, and Salvatore Valentinetti would not have met his untimely end. Sinclair and I both knew that it was Jasper Michaels who had reached out to Nolan Kelley, sharing what he had discovered. My inability to prevent this chain of events had torn apart two couples, leaving devastation in its wake.
I muttered under my breath, “This is what you meant. About ghosts from my past, isn’t it?” The words hung in the air, tinged with regret and sorrow.
Sinclair answered simply, “Yes.”
Seeking clarity, I pressed further. “Does she know?”
Sinclair nodded. “Yes.”
Melissa, sensing the tension between us, broke the silence. “Does who know what?” she asked, her gaze shifting between Sinclair and me.
Unable to face her, I stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the city I loved. The turmoil within me matched the chaos outside. It felt as if this cycle of pain and violence would never end. There would always be someone or something that needed to be dealt with. The world seemed to thrive on destroying happiness, bringing war and suffering to anyone in its path. People were willing to go to any lengths—even hurting innocents—to take what wasn’t theirs. I despisedthis life and longed to escape it, but I couldn’t ignore my own responsibility. It was my failure to act, my inability to complete a simple task, that caused unimaginable pain for two couples—pain I was supposed to prevent.
Finally, resigned to my fate, I straightened my back and turned to Sinclair. “Alright, Sinclair, you win. What do you want me to do?” I asked, ready to face whatever came next.
Sinclair’s voice was unwavering, his intent clear. “I want you to help me fix this.” The words hung heavily in the room, carrying the weight of everything that had happened.
I stared at Sinclair, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “And how in the hell do I do that, Sinclair? I know next to nothing. Does this have anything to do with who my birth parents are?” My question cut through the tension, searching for answers in a world riddled with secrets.
Sinclair answered, his tone thoughtful, “Theoretically, yes.”
Unable to mask my annoyance, I pressed further. “It does, or it doesn’t. Which is it?”
Sinclair explained, “They are connected, not by blood, but by organizations. Like I said before, you are the one secret everyone needs to keep a secret because when your truth comes out, it will create a domino effect.” His words revealed the complex webs of loyalty and danger that surrounded us.
Melissa’s voice trembled as she intervened, her frustration palpable. “My God. This shit will never end, will it? You can’t ask for Rowen’s help, then dangle his past in front of him, implying that he’s a secret that needs to be kept.”
