Page 5

Nico launched into a confession about how the Phantom Riders recruited him to spy on us and sabotage our operations from the inside. The Phantom Riders were a bunch of cunts, a new club of bikers who were trying so hard to gain relevance and outdo the Sons in The Biker’s Pit, where we fucking resided before they got here. Word in The Pit was that the Phantoms were a fractured faction of the Sons, who left and decided to start their own club.

“You promised to let me go.” His voice trembled.

“Plans change, buddy.” Viper shrugged.

“W-what?”

“Keep him alive.”

That was the last thing I said to Viper before leaving the basement. He didn’t get to die a quick, painless death, not after what he had done. I’d make him taste a fate so cruel, even the Devil would weep for him.

The clubhouse was a madhouse, pounding so hard with earsplitting music. It made my skin crawl with irritation. It was one of the reasons I chose to live in a secluded spot on the edge of the club property. It gave me the privacy I needed and a space that felt like mine.

“Hey, handsome.” Rosa strutted toward me, clad in a black micro-dress that flaunted her curves and tits in my face. She bit her lip, her eyes drifting over my muscular frame.

“Do you want to go back to your place?” She tried to touch me, but I grabbed her hand to stop her.

Rosa was one of the girls who hung around the clubhouse, drawn to the thrill of hanging around men who operated in the gray. She had been trying to get me to fuck her, but she refused to take the hint. She was clingy, loud, and annoying. But most of all, I preferred to move away from the clubhouse if I wanted a woman to blow off steam. I didn’t shit where I ate.

“Go find another man to hit on, Rosa,” Sloane yelled from the bar where she was serving some Sons.

“Shut up!” Rosa fired.

Sloane rolled her eyes, then threw me an amusing smirk. She was the finest bartender we had, flirtatious when she needed to be, but an absolute nutjob. She was one of the few people I could tolerate at the clubhouse.

I marched past Rosa.

“Graves! Graves!” She kept hollering, but I ignored her on the way out.

I was exhausted and irritated, eager to get back to my apartment. I strapped on my helmet, hopped on my bike, and rode down to the outskirts of the property.

The moment I pulled up in the driveway, I could tell something was wrong. The door to the garage was slightly ajar, and I frowned. I whipped out my gun, moving with stealth toward the garage.

I knew of a few petty thieves around, but I didn’t think they were courageous enough to rob me. I still had anger brewing within me, so blowing off the heads of some scrawny thieves seemed like the perfect way to end the night.

I barrelled into the garage, ready to pull the trigger, but the sight before me made me halt. It was the figure of a trembling woman, curled behind one of the cars I barely used, with a wrench in her hand. She rose to her feet, ready to lunge at me, but she staggered backward when she saw the gun in my grip. The wrench clattered to the floor. Her vivid hazel eyes were wild with horror, blood draining from her face when she spotted the ugly red bloodstain on my shirt.

That wasn’t the most striking feature in her appearance. It was the ugly purple bruise around one of her eyes. Heck, her face was a map of bruises, down to her exposed neck in the torn, crimson dress she wore. Her small frame shivered as the fabric barely offered any comfort, given how revealing it was.

“Please.” Her voice cracked. “Please, don’t tell him where I am. Don’t-don’t let him hurt me, please.” She sounded terrified.

I lowered the gun instinctively, the muscles around my jaw tightening.

“Who the hell are you?”

She flinched hard when I tried to approach her.

“Wren,” she said weakly. “I’m Wren.”

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyes got wet with tears. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to control how hard she was shivering. She reeked of helplessness.

“My fiancé—I-I ran from him. He has been hurting me,” she stuttered. “He can’t find me, please. I’m begging you. I just need a place to stay for the night. I’ll be out by morning. I have nowhere to go. I have no family in Covington Hills. Please...”

Something cracked in my chest.

I could kill her and not lose sleep over it or...