I’ve made my choice. “You’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” she whispers. “Now take off your pants and fuck me like you own me,Rebel.”
Epilogue
Fury
The lights blink out in the upstairs bedroom and I check the time. Same time as the last three nights. She hasn’t left the house once since I’ve been here, and no one has visited. Blaze has a tap on her phone line. The only person she speaks to is the Kivisto they forced her to marry, who is still hanging around Baltimore.
The last we heard from Rebel’s guy, the stupid prick was getting hookers to the hotel room at The Drake. So much for the wife at home. We still don’t know why he hasn’t come back. Which is why I’m down here getting more pissed each day.
Blaze has been watching Beth Kivisto for weeks. I don’t know why he’s taken such an interest in her or why Nero has agreed to his plan to send us here to watch her.
Timo doesn’t give a shit about her, so what use is she? This is pointless. I should be back at the farm with Stryker and the Demon Sinner we have locked up there, trying to find out everything we can about Storm.
Why we’re following this strand makes no sense to me. Then again, that is why I’m not the one making decisions for the club.
Nero and Rebel might have been at odds over how to deal with the whole mess, but they always work shit out for the good of the club.
They’re two sides of the same coin and always have been. One doesn’t work without the other. I’ve seen people try to figure out how they work.
They’ve been friends since childhood and came through the ranks together. The only thing that matters to me is they protect the club with the choices they make.
Nero’s brain is wired differently. It’s like he can see every path that opens with each decision, and he sets things in motion where he can.
Which is why I’m sat in this car outside a mansion in a rich neighborhood trying to avoid the cops, the Kivisto’s and worst of all, Jackal, the president of the Demon Sinners.
What this woman can do to help is a mystery to me.
A text comes through, and I cup my hand so the illuminated screen isn’t obvious to anyone looking.
Chasm:
He wants to talk
Fury:
You call the Prez?
Chasm:
I wanted to let you know first
Fury:
Put him under and let Nero know. I can’t make it there yet.
Chasm:
Ok
“Fuck.”
I lock the screen and toss the phone into the center console. The man we have locked up on the farm, who was involved in the shooting at the church, has been stubbornly silent for the two weeks since we caught him.
No one expected what the other one did that night in the barn. We all thought if he was scared enough of Jackal to impale his own fucking body on a rusty pitchfork, then his brother would talk.
So far the bastard hasn’t said a word. No amount of beating, starving, or psychological torture worked. We’ve kept him in and out of sedation. There is nothing scarier than waking up having lost time and not knowing where the hell you are.
