Page 31

Danny

I woke sometime later to voices in the kitchen. Everything was still fuzzy, but I could clearly hear Dante’s agitated voice.

“He doesn’t want you to know, Dante.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Nav. Who is she and what is she to Danny?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“That’s just it!” Dante shouted. “I don’t know what to think because no one will tell me anything!”

Sitting up, I placed my feet on the floor and hung my head.

Fuck, what did Bane give me?

My head was still fuzzy, like I was walking around in a fog. I couldn’t think clearly, yet I felt rested.

“I’m telling you right now, Nav, if you know something, you better tell me because I’m at my breaking point with all these fucking secrets. I can’t take it anymore.”

I slowly made my way towards the kitchen, my head still throbbing. As I rounded the corner, I saw Dante pacing back and forth, his face flushed with anger. Nav stood across from him, his arms crossed, a look of determination on his face.

“I’m not keeping anything from you, Dante. I’m just trying to protect you,” Nav said, his voice steady, but I could hear the strain underneath. “You know I would never lie to you. But some things are better left unsaid.”

“Don’t treat me like a child, Nav. I have a right to know. Who is she and what does she have to do with all of this shit going on?” Dante demanded, his eyes flashing. “And why is Danny worried about her?”

Nav sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story, and it’s not my place to tell. But I can assure you, it’s not what you think. Danny is just trying to help.”

“She is your sister,” I muttered, walking into the kitchen and sitting in a chair. There was so much I still needed to tell Dante. Information about his past, his parents, his sibling. “I’ve been protecting your sister.”

“Why?”

“Because Jane Craven is a sick, twisted sociopath. The woman is fucking crazy, Dante, and she’s determined to kill everyone who threatens her master plan.”

Shaking his head, Dante pulled out the chair next to me and sat. “Explain it to me because I don’t understand. I’m nothing but a product of the Trick Pony.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Dante, I promise to tell you what I can, but right now, I need to speak with Nav. Alone.”

“You have to tell me something, Danny. All these lies and secrets are eating away at you. I can see the burden you are carrying. I thought I was going to lose you last night. Bane had to sedate you. You’ve never lost control like that. It scared the shit out of me.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” I solemnly said. “Please, baby. Just give me a few minutes alone with Nav.”

Sighing, Dante got up and left the kitchen, saying nothing more.

Fuck, he is pissed at me again.

“It’s time, Sypher,” Nav spoke up the second Dante was out of hearing range. “They need to know what they’re facing. This vendetta isn’t going to go away. As long as they are walking around blind, they are in danger. They need to understand what’s at stake here. That bitch hit the Arkansas Chapter. I lost brothers, Sypher. It won’t be long before she figures she hit the wrong club.”

“Does King know?”

“Not yet. I haven’t told him. I’m monitoring the situation and information is fluid right now, but King’s already got enough shit on his plate. I didn’t want to say anything until you were back on your feet. I’m going to need your help.”

“Look, I know you’re worried, but we can’t involve everyone just yet. Not until I know more. Jane Craven is unpredictable, and I don’t know what her next move will be. Involving the Golden Skulls could put everyone at risk.” I rubbed my temples, the fuzziness in my head slowly clearing, but a nagging worry remained. “We need to be strategic about this. We go in half-cocked and we could get more brothers killed.”

“Well, you better figure it out fast, because the Biker Federation is gearing up for a war. Rumors have already spread.”

My head snapped to his. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, they know about the blood bond between Montana and Reaper. That’s caused a massive uproar. Some clubs have already sent out scouts to locate Emma.”

“Is she safe?”

“Yeah,” Nav groaned. “Logic got her out of Destiny fast. They’ve disappeared. Off the radar. I can’t track them and considering everything, I think that’s a good thing.”

“This changes things,” I muttered, rubbing my temples as if that could somehow ease the growing tension in my head. “With the Federation gearing up for war, we can’t afford to keep everyone in the dark any longer. Everyone needs to know the truth about Jane Craven and the threat she poses.”

Nav nodded, his face grim, and I knew he understood the gravity of the situation.

“We’ll have to move carefully, though,” I continued. “Involving the Golden Skulls is tricky. Reaper’s temper alone is dangerous, but even I know they are our best chance at taking down Craven. But it also puts a target on their backs. We can’t underestimate her; she’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”

“What about Emma?” Nav asked, his voice tight. “With the Federation on the move, she’s even more vulnerable. We have to find her before they do.”

I shook my head, frustrated. “Logic is good at what he does; he’ll keep her safe. Our priority now is to prepare for the coming storm. We need to gather our forces, strengthen our defenses, and be ready for whatever Craven throws our way. This is a war we can’t afford to lose.”

Nav’s jaw clenched and I could see the weight of our decision resting on his shoulders. “I’ll talk to King,” he said. “He’ll want to know about this. He can call Reaper and get the Golden Skulls involved, but we’ll need to be careful. This could be our only chance to take down Craven and end this shit once and for all.”

As Nav and I continued to strategize, the weight of our responsibility felt heavy. I knew that involving more clubs in the conflict with Jane Craven was a risky move, but it might be our best chance at defeating her. The tension in the air was palpable as we weighed the lives of our brothers against the potential for a decisive victory. The coming days would be crucial, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap.

About an hour or so later, Haizley walked into the house all smiles. “How are you feeling today, Danny?” she asked, trying to get down to business. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” I replied, then narrowed my eyes. The lie tasted like bitter disappointment. “I’m still tired and things are still a bit fuzzy, but my head is clearer. And before I forget, under no circumstance is Bane allowed to drug me again. Whatever he gave me took hours to wear off. I didn’t like how it made me feel.” The words felt hollow, a pathetic shield against the crushing weight of my actions.

The woman smirked. “I’ll make a note in your chart. No more drugs. So, let’s talk about what happened last night.”

“Let’s not and say we did.” I grinned, my bravado a thin veneer over the gnawing fear inside. The truth felt like a venomous snake coiled in my gut, ready to strike.

“Nice try, Danny.” Haizley sat up straighter in her chair. “You had a manic episode and I, for one, would like to know what set it off. Why don’t you tell me?”

Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck. The gesture was automatic, a nervous tic I couldn’t control. “I was showering last night and I couldn’t shake this feeling of dread. Like something bad was about to happen. Something I caused.”

I hated the way my mind worked, its relentless focus on my culpability.

“It kind of took hold of me. It scared me.” My admission felt weak, inadequate. It didn’t even touch the horrifying truth.

“Fear can do that,” Haizley replied, her tone neutral. But I knew she saw through my carefully constructed facade.

“Anyway,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper, “while I was trying to make sense of why I was feeling frightened, Dante jumped in the shower with me, and when I looked into his eyes, I remembered everything. All of it, until the building blew. In fact, I think I remember hearing the explosions.” The memory of the blast, the screams, the searing heat, sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

“Why would looking into Dante’s eyes cause you to remember?” Haizley pressed her gaze unwavering.

“Because she has his eyes,” I mumbled, the words catching in my throat.

The lie—the terrible, self-serving lie—felt like a brand on my soul.

“Who does?”

“His sister.” My admission felt like a poisoned dart in my heart.

“I see,” Haizley said, leaning forward. “And is she the one you were talking about last night? The one you needed to make sure was safe?”

“Yeah.” The single syllable felt heavy with guilt. I had failed her, betrayed her, condemned her. And for what? To protect Dante? Or to protect myself from the consequences of my own actions?

“Why would you think she wouldn’t be safe, Danny?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through my carefully constructed defenses.

“Because... because I gave her up to save Dante.” The confession ripped through me, leaving a raw, bleeding wound.

“You did what?!” Dante shouted, jumping to his feet, his face a mask of disbelief and rage.

Hunching over, I nodded, my shame burning my cheeks. “I’m not proud of myself, okay? I fucked up, but I told you I will do anything to protect you. I meant that.” My words were a desperate plea, a fragile attempt to justify the inexcusable.

“So that bitch knows where my sister is?” Dante’s voice was dangerously low.

“Not necessarily,” I lied again, the lie smoother, more practiced this time. But even I could hear the tremor in my voice.

“What do you mean, Danny?” Haizley asked, her eyes narrowed, assessing.

Looking at the doctor, I offered a weak, bitter smile. “I told the bitch she used to be a barista in some coffee shop in Chicago before she up and disappeared, and I hadn’t seen her since. Went by the name Bethany Norwood. That’s all.”

Haizley stiffened as my words felt like my last act of self-destruction, a desperate attempt to minimize the horror of my betrayal, to somehow diminish the terrible weight of my failure. The truth, however, remained a crushing burden I would carry for the rest of my days.

“Dante,” Haizley spoke up, her voice low and controlled as she glared at me. “May I please have a moment alone with Danny?”

Dante huffed, throwing his arms in the air. “Why not! He’s not telling me anything. Maybe he will tell you!” With that, Dante stormed outside.

“A barista in Chicago?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bethany Norwood?”

Frowning, I looked at the woman, wondering where she was going with this. “Yeah.”

“Amber is Dante’s sister!” the woman yelled, and I gulped.

Oh shit!

“How?” I sputtered, my eyes wide as the woman paced the living room. The tremor in my voice wasn’t just from shock; it was the tremor of a man wrestling with a decade of carefully constructed lies.

“He fucking knew,” she began, her words a slow drip of poison. “I told him she needed to know the truth. She needed to know the danger she was in. That son of a bitch knows how serious this is. And he still kept her in the dark.”

Getting to my feet, I grabbed Haizley’s arms, my grip tight enough to hurt. “You can’t tell her. She can’t know. The less she knows, the safer she is.” Safer? Was that even true anymore? My carefully built fortress of lies was crumbling, revealing the cracks of my own cowardice.

“Danny, you have no idea what that girl has been through. She has a brother. Family that will love her. She has the right to know. So does Dante. You have to tell them.”

Haizley’s words hit me like a physical blow. I knew she was right, intellectually. But the thought of facing Dante and Amber, of seeing the hurt, the betrayal mirrored in Amber’s eyes—her eyes—after everything she’d been through was like a blade twisting in my gut.

It wasn’t just the potential for their anger; it was the gut-wrenching fear of losing him. Dante, my husband, my rock, the love of my life... The thought of his condemnation felt like a physical wound. He’d never forgive me. That wasn’t a fear; it was a certainty. And the guilt? It gnawed at me, a relentless, festering beast.

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion and something else... desperation. “They’ll never forgive me. I betrayed her trust and because of me, she’s in danger.”

I shook my head, my eyes pleading with Haizley, but also begging for a way out, a loophole, a miracle. I had to protect them. Even if it meant destroying myself in the process.

My logic was twisted, I knew that, but it was all I had.

Haizley’s gaze softened, but there was steel in her compassion. “Danny, you made a mistake. A terrible, hurtful mistake. But it’s not too late to make things right. Dante and Amber deserve to know the truth, and they deserve to have a say in their own safety. You can’t protect them by keeping them in the dark anymore.”

I wanted to scream, to lash out. To cling to the lie, the illusion of control, the fragile peace I’d built on a foundation of deceit. But her words, so simple, so true, chipped away at my defenses. The weight of my guilt was a crushing burden, heavier than any threat. My morals, the very core of my being, screamed at me to confess, but fear, a chilling, paralyzing fear, held me captive.

“I know it’s scary,” Haizley continued, her voice gentle but firm, “but this isn’t just about you. I’m here to help you get through this, and we’ll face the consequences together. It’s time to let them in, to give them a chance to help you carry this burden.”

I nodded slowly, the movement a physical manifestation of my surrender.

Not just to Haizley, but to the crushing weight of my own actions, my own failures. It was time to come clean, to face the music, no matter how agonizing the symphony of their anger and disappointment might be. To face Dante’s fury, Amber’s heartbreak, and the crushing knowledge of my own profound failure.

“Besides, wouldn’t you like to see your daughter?” Haizley’s smile was bittersweet, a fragile thing in the face of the storm about to break.

“What?”

“Let me tell you how shocked I was when my best friend showed up at the clubhouse yesterday with Danika. She’s in Diamond Creek, Danny. She’s safe, and so is Amber. All three of them are.”

Stumbling back, I gasped, the relief so profound it threatened to shatter me. “My daughter is safe.”

“Yes.”

Raking my hands through my hair, I sat back down, my body shaking violently.

The relief was immense, but my underlying terror remained. “I thought I’d messed everything up. She threatened to kill my daughter. She said she knew where she was. She showed me a picture of Danika at the park... The same park I took her to. She said if I didn’t tell her where Dante’s sister was, she would kill my little girl. I couldn’t let that happen. I traded one life for another.” My words hung in the air, a confession, a damning indictment of my choice. A choice I knew, deep down, I would regret for the rest of my life.

“No, you saved your daughter. It’s my understanding that King’s had Amber on lockdown for a while now. She doesn’t question it. Amber is rather resilient in that fact. She really does fit in with the club life.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

Resilient? Or broken? The thought gnawed at me, a constant counterpoint to the relief I felt at Amber’s safety. My own moral compass spun wildly, accusing me of accepting a twisted form of victory.

“Haizley, I need to tell you something. Nav and King know, but when the truth comes out, someone needs to have a clear head to help everyone make sense of it all. Can you be that person?” The desperation in my words was palpable. The request itself was a violation. She was supposed to be on the outside, a detached observer, the one who could offer unbiased judgment. Now, I was thrusting her into the heart of it all, forcing her to become complicit. The weight of my secret pressed down on me, a suffocating burden. My loyalty to Dante warred with my deep-seated aversion to the very people involved. I needed to help them clean up my mess, even if it felt like I was betraying every instinct I possessed.

Yet, the alternative—abandoning them in the face of impending chaos—felt far worse.

It was a choice between lesser evils, a choice that would stain my hands either way.

“I can try,” she replied, barely speaking the words.

I knew, with a chilling certainty, that whatever I did, whatever I revealed, would only lead to more suffering. More regret. More broken lives. And I would be the one left holding the pieces, forever marked by this inevitable catastrophe. Looking at the woman, I nodded, the betrayal of my conscience a silent scream swallowed by the suffocating silence that followed.

My secret, once a burden, now felt like a poisoned chalice I was forced to drink.