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Kansas

Diamondback MC clubhouse, Lawton, Oklahoma .

I should have been spending the day at the clubhouse with my wife and kids, recovering from all the Christmas chaos that ensued.

But was I?

Nope.

Instead, I was heading to the Lawton Police Department because the new Police Chief Sean O’Rourke called and told me he needed to see me. Why, I didn’t know. Only that it was imperative that I get my ass to the station.

I didn’t know a lot about the new Police Chief, only that he was a seasoned officer and went by the fucking book. Sean Curran O’Rourke wasn’t from Oklahoma. That Irish fucker hailed all the way from Massachusetts. Why he moved to fucking Lawton, Oklahoma, was still a fucking mystery. One that Shadow better fucking figure out fast. I hated not having the inside scoop with law enforcement. It just made my life a little harder.

As I drove through the quiet streets, my mind raced with several possibilities as to why he requested my presence. With everything going on in the underground, I knew it could be anything. But that shit wasn’t my concern. As far as my brother knew, the Diamondbacks were not involved. Too bad for him, I was already involved, just not in the way he thought.

What could be so damn urgent that he would disrupt my holiday plans? The chill in the air seemed to sink into my bones, mirroring the uneasy feeling that had settled in my gut as I pulled into the parking lot and saw Chief O’Rourke standing by the entrance, his face etched with concern.

Whatever this was about, it wasn’t going to be a simple chat.

Sliding off my bike, I reached into my coat and took out a pack of cigarettes.

Kali had been on my ass for months to quit. She fucking hated my little addiction and lost her shit when she saw Talia pretending to be me one day. I didn’t see what the fucking problem was, but Kali ripped my ass a new one and had since forbidden me from smoking around her or the children.

Lighting my cigarette, I took a long drag, savoring the smoke as it seeped into my lungs and sighed when I slowly blew it back out.

“Can’t smoke within ten feet of the police station,” Police Chief O’Rourke growled, glaring at me.

“Can’t have it both ways, O’Rourke. You wanted me here. I’m here.”

“Let’s go inside.”

“Not stepping foot in that building unless I’m in handcuffs. So speak.”

“Got a few things to discuss with you.”

Taking another drag, I replied, “Then discuss.”

“You know a woman named Debbie Brennan?”

Fuck. Of course I knew the bitch.

More importantly, Pence knew her intimately.

Thanks to Jinx and his inability to let sleeping dogs lie, before that fucker died, he investigated the entire club, refusing to believe that the club massacre several years back was a cartel job. Jinx was right about the massacre, but when the fucker started digging around, he found all sorts of damning information that several of the club brothers had wanted to stay hidden. And now, thanks to Shadow and his big fucking mouth, everyone’s secrets were out.

The problem? Pence hadn’t told his wife that he knocked up a club whore and had a son.

“Should I?” I asked.

O’Rourke groaned, snagging the pack of smokes out of my hand, taking one. Reaching into his own pocket, he pulled out his own lighter and lit the end.

Exhaling, he snarked, “I really fucking hate bikers, you know that?”

“Get to the fucking point.”

“My point is, you don’t trust me and I sure as hell don’t trust you.”

“Cool.” I smirked. “Glad we had this talk.”

“Kansas.” O’Rourke growled, then firmly said, “Oklahoma City police found your mother and Happy early this morning. Someone left their bodies on a park bench for anyone to find them. They were executed, Kansas. I need you to tell me that the shit going on in New York isn’t coming to my city.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I had to have heard him wrong. My mother was alive and well. Happy told me he was taking my mom to the city to propose to her. After all these years, he was tired of waiting around for the other shoe to drop. He wanted to spend what time he had left with the woman he loved. They were due back today. Kali was planning a celebratory dinner.

She invited the entire clubhouse.

“How?”

“Single shot to the back of the head.”

“Witnesses?”

O’Rourke shook his head. “No, and before you ask, the city cams weren’t working.”

Snuffing out my cigarette with the toe of my boot, I muttered, “Thanks for telling me. Is that all?”

O’Rourke frowned. “Kansas, I just told you that your mother is dead, and that’s all you can say?”

Shrugging, I said nothing.

“Fine,” O’Rourke snarled. “Then maybe this will get a fucking response out of you. Duncan Police arrested Debbie for prostitution and intent to distribute narcotics. When they ran her prints, they found something interesting. Her name isn’t Debbie Brennan. It’s Alice Cavanaugh.”

“So.”

“So, when they ran the name through the system, they found a missing child report from fourteen years ago. Apparently, Alice Soirée Cavanaugh was six years old when she disappeared from some shopping mall in Miami, Florida.”

I stiffened and silently cursed, quickly doing the math in my head. If this fucker was going where I thought he was going, I was going to lose my motherfucking shit fast!

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“Alice is barely twenty, Kansas. Her son is three. That means she was a minor when Pence fathered the boy. I’m going to have to arrest him for statutory rape and child molestation. I’ve already sent two units to his place to arrest him.”

“FUCK!”

“She’s also one of the missing kids from the Trick Pony”

Aleksandr

Rosewood, Virginia.

I hung up my phone and stared out at the window, knowing that when the Italian Council learned what happened, they would come for me. It was the worst of possibilities and there was nothing I could do to stop it, because when they dug into the Romano Brothers’ pasts, they would see my involvement.

There was nothing Maxim could do to cover it up.

The skeletons of my past were catching up to me, and the weight of my decisions pressed heavily on my shoulders. I felt a cold sweat trickle down my back as I pondered the inevitable fallout. The ticking clock on my wall seemed to mock my helplessness with each second that passed. My only hope was to find a way to mitigate the damage and perhaps, just perhaps, find an ally in the storm.

As I ruminated on my dire situation, a soft knock interrupted my thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing King, the president of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club. His eyes met mine, and I could see the concern etched across his face.

“I heard about the Romano Brothers,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. “Is there anything I can do?”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “No, I need to act swiftly if I want any chance of surviving this.”

King nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll start reaching out to my contacts. Maybe I can find someone who can help you navigate this mess. What about Lacey?”

His words offered a glimmer of hope, a beacon in the darkness threatening to engulf me. Together, we would face the storm, and perhaps, just perhaps, find a way to weather it.

“I don’t want her involved. I should have just left with the others. I should have known that the past never really stays dead.”

“You’ll figure this out, Aleksandr. You’re smart. You need my club, just say so. You’re Banks’ brother. That makes you one of ours.”

“Thank you, King,” I muttered as he left the room.

Sitting on the bed, my mind raced through potential strategies. The stakes were high, and a single misstep could lead to my ruin. The phone on the nightstand rang, jolting me from my thoughts. Hesitantly, I picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” I said, my voice barely masking the anxiety I felt.

“It’s Dmitry,” came the familiar voice from the other end. Dmitry was a trusted friend and a brilliant strategist. More importantly, he was my brother, and I trusted him with my life. “Word is out about the Romano Brothers. We need to talk immediately. I will be there shortly.”

Within a few hours, Dmitry arrived at the clubhouse. His presence was a small comfort, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this fight. As we sat down to discuss our options, I could see the wheels turning in his mind, plotting a course through the treacherous waters ahead.

“We need to be smart about this,” he began. “The Council will be relentless, but there may be a way to turn this to your advantage. You need to disappear and gather evidence, find leverage, and expose the Council’s own vulnerabilities. Maxim will do everything he can to hold off the Council, but, brother, you need to move fast. There is only so much Maxim can do.”

His plan was daring, but it was my best shot. With renewed determination, he began to outline his strategy, each step carefully calculated to outmaneuver my adversaries. The weight on my shoulders seemed to lighten slightly as we worked, the glimmer of hope growing ever brighter.

As the hours stretched into the night, neither of us complained. He knew the importance of my task and the urgency it demanded. By dawn, I had a basic blueprint for survival, a path that, if I followed meticulously, could lead me out of the darkness and just might save my life.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, I glanced at Dmitry. “Thank you,” I said, my voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

He simply nodded, understanding the gravity of my mission. With a final handshake, he left, leaving me to contemplate my journey ahead. There would be many challenges to face, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

With friends by my side, I started to believe that I could withstand the storm and emerge stronger on the other side.

If the Italian Council didn’t kill me first.

I knew what I had to do. The plan Dmitry laid out was risky, but it was the only way to uncover the truth and protect our families. Without wasting another moment, I gathered my essentials and slipped out of the clubhouse under the cover of darkness. The streets of Rosewood felt eerily quiet; the usual hustle replaced by an unsettling stillness. It was as if the entire town held its breath, waiting for the storm to break.

My first destination was a safe house two towns over, where Dmitry had assured me I would find the necessary equipment and resources to begin my investigation. As I navigated the labyrinthine alleys, memories of my past flashed before me—the battles fought, the friends lost, and the relentless pursuit of justice that had defined my life.

Upon arriving at the safe house, I found it stocked with surveillance gear, encrypted communication devices, and a dossier outlining the Council’s recent activities. Dmitry had been thorough, ensuring I had every tool at my disposal. It was now up to me to use them wisely.

Minutes turned into hours as I painstakingly searched for evidence, connecting dots and uncovering layers of corruption within the Italian Council. Each discovery fueled my resolve, making me more determined to expose the truth. I worked in silence. The enormity of my task was never far from my thoughts, but the stakes were too high to falter.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts as I reached for my gun and quickly turned off the lights. Making my way toward the door, I slid back the curtain to see who was outside when I saw her standing there.

Lowering my gun, I whipped open the door and grabbed her, yanking her inside, quickly closing the door fast. Flipping the lights back on, I glared. “How did you find me?”

“I’m a relator, Alek. I’ve listed every property within fifty miles of Rosewood. You weren’t hard to find.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Lacey. You need to leave.”

“No.” The stubborn woman glared at me, crossing her arms over her chest. “No. We need to talk.”

Only I never got to respond as bullets shattered the windows around us.

Massimo

Loyola University, Chicago, Illinois.

Standing in the background, I watched silently as she partied and drank with her friends, oblivious to the dangers that lurked in the shadows. From the moment I accepted the contract and laid eyes on her, I fucking knew she was mine, but I wasn’t ready to claim la mia piccola vendetta . For now, I would allow her the freedom to fly before I clipped her wings and sealed her to me for all time.

Miranda Williams was a beautiful woman with her entire life in front of her. She was carefree, enjoying life as a college student should, experiencing everything I never did. I wasn’t ready to snuff out the light in her eyes because that would come soon enough.

But fate had a way of weaving its own threads, intertwining our paths in ways neither of us could foresee. Though she danced with abandon, her laughter a symphony that echoed through the night, a sense of inevitability loomed over her carefree existence. My presence here was a testament to that.

The night was still young, and the moon cast a silvery glow upon the gathering. Shadows danced in the corners, whispering secrets only I could hear. I tightened my grip on the glass in my hand, the amber liquid within it reflecting the same fire that burned in my chest. She was blissfully unaware, but soon, all that would change.

In the quiet moments when the revelry paused, her gaze would drift, and I could see the flicker of unease pass over her features. It was as if some part of her sensed the tempest that was about to descend upon her world. Yet, she continued, driven by a youthful defiance and belief in her own invincibility.

For now, I remained on the periphery, a silent guardian and the unseen force that would eventually alter her destiny. The night wore on, and with every passing moment, the shadows grew longer, inching closer to the inevitable. Soon, very soon, she would come to know the truth of her existence—her fate intertwined with mine, forever.

I watched, annoyed, as a young male college student danced with her, putting his hands on what was mine. If I had half a brain, I would rip his arms off and beat him to death with his own limbs, but I wasn’t ready to let her know that I’d been watching her for weeks now. I knew everything about her. Her likes and dislikes. Her favorite movie, book, even her favorite meal. I knew the clothes she wore were secondhand, and she never splurged on name brands. She didn’t wear jewelry and kept her nails trim. She was smart, smarter than me, but didn’t parade around in arrogance. When no one was looking, she preferred to cuddle up in a pair of ratty sweats and binge watch old black and white movies on television. She wasn’t a drinker, but couldn’t tell her best friend no.

The fact was, la mia piccola vendetta was a simple country mouse oblivious to her real past, and soon I would thrust her into a world she knew nothing about. For that alone, I kept my distance. I wanted her to enjoy what time she had left because soon enough, she would learn that all her debts needed to be paid.

Feeling my phone vibrate, I reached for it and read the text message my brother Cesar sent me.

Cesar: Claim her. The Mexican Cartel is no more.

Closing my phone, I grinned.

Finally.

She was mine.

What no one knew about la mia piccola vendetta was that she wasn’t Jackson Williams’ sister. Yes, she was with him when they escaped the Trick Pony, but she had no blood ties to the club brother called Ravage. In fact, Miranda Williams wasn’t even her real name, nor was the name she was currently going by now, Savannah Scott. Nope, la mia piccola vendetta was none other than the daughter of Crispin Sinclair and Veronica Meeks, the woman he beheaded before he and the others escaped from the Trick Pony, but more importantly and what only Reaper and my brother Cesar knew was that Veronica Meeks was the last surviving legitimate child of Armando Pisano, the very motherfucker who ordered the assassination of my brothers and raped Tomasso, leaving him for dead.

As I slipped through the crowd, cloaked in the anonymity of the night, I could feel the weight of the impending revelation growing heavier on my shoulders. My heart raced, not with fear, but with the anticipation of what was to come.

I had meticulously planned every detail, every move, anticipating each possible outcome. I knew that once the curtain was pulled back, there would be no turning back for either of us. The world as she knew it would shatter, and I would be there, ready to piece it back together in a form that suited my desires. I observed the way she moved, the way her laughter lit up the room despite the storm brewing on the horizon. She had no idea of the legacy she carried, the bloodline that tied her to a dark and violent past. All she knew was the life she had built for herself—a life that was about to be irrevocably changed.

The shadows whispered secrets of the past as I watched her, the woman who unknowingly held the key to a vendetta years in the making. Her innocence was a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded me, and I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that soon the truth would unravel her world.

As I moved closer, the scent of jasmine and something purely her invaded my senses. She glanced up, her eyes meeting mine briefly, and in that moment, I saw a spark of recognition. It was fleeting, overshadowed by the carefree nature she exuded, but it was there, a glimmer of understanding that something was amiss.

I let the distance between us shrink, each step a calculated measure towards the inevitable confrontation. The room seemed to close in around us, the noise of the crowd fading into a dull hum as my focus zeroed in on her. She was a delicate thread in the intricate tapestry of my revenge, and soon I would pull it tight.

When I finally stood before her, the world fell away. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, locked onto mine. I could see the questions forming, the silent inquiry of who I was and what I wanted. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to shatter the illusion she clung to so desperately.

“ La mia piccola vendetta ,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. “It’s time you learn who you truly are.”

Her eyes widened further, uncertainty giving way to a dawning realization.

The game was about to begin, and I was ready to play it to the very end because if it was the last thing I ever did, the little bitch would pay for her family’s crimes.

Bane

Silver Shadows’ clubhouse, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.

Laying on my bed, I looked at her face. The picture was warn, but I could clearly see the love on her face as she looked up at me. We were so young. So in love. All we wanted was each other. Had I known then what I knew now, I would have run away with her, changed our names and disappeared from the world. Instead, that motherfucker took her from me and even after all these years, I had no idea where she was.

Every night, I replayed our last moments together in my mind, wondering where it all went wrong. We were just stupid kids in love. We didn’t know any better, but when George Stone walked in on us, I knew we were screwed and not in the good way.

He took her from me that night and ordered me to keep my mouth shut or he would kill me and my entire family. I fucking believed him.

That was the night my world changed, all because of George Stone.

As the years passed, my heart grew colder with each passing day, but I never gave up. I never stopped searching. The pain of losing her never dulled, and the anger toward George Stone festered inside me like a wound that refused to heal. I spent every waking moment searching for her, trying to piece together the fragments of a shattered past. I looked for traces of her in every corner of the world, holding onto the hope that one day, I might find her and reclaim the life that was stolen from us.

But hope had a cruel way of transforming into obsession. My pursuit of answers consumed me, driving me to the brink of madness. Friends and family drifted away, unable to understand the darkness that enveloped my soul. I became a shadow of my former self, haunted by memories and whispers of a love that was mercilessly snatched away.

Despite the isolating grip of despair, there were moments when I could almost hear her voice, feel her presence. Those fleeting instances kept me going, fueling the fire within me to never give up. I would find her, and if that meant sacrificing everything I had left, then so be it.

Over the years, I’d played my part well.

I became a master of deception, hiding my true intentions behind a mask of indifference. The world saw me as a broken man, but I was far from it. Beneath the surface, I was calculating, relentless, and determined to find the woman I gave my heart to all those years ago. The hunt for her had become my driving force, the only thing that kept me sane.

In the shadows, I found allies among those who had suffered at the hands of George Stone. They shared their stories, their pain, and their desire for revenge. Together, we formed a network of informants and spies, each piece of information bringing me closer to her. The clues were often cryptic, leading me on a wild chase through cities and towns, but I followed them with unwavering resolve.

Time had turned me into a seasoned tracker, able to sift through lies and deceit to find the truth. My reputation as a relentless pursuer grew, and even those who had once doubted me began to take notice. But none of it mattered; the only thing that mattered was finding her.

A few months ago, a whisper reached my ears—something about a place, a hint of her presence. It was a long shot, another fragile thread in the tapestry of my search, but I couldn’t ignore it. I packed and embarked on yet another journey, driven by the hope that this time, I might finally uncover the truth. Only this time, my journey led me to Diamond Creek, Nebraska, and the land of endless horizons and hidden secrets. Somewhere in the vast expanse, amid the dust and echoes, lay the answers I sought. I could feel it in my bones—the end was near, and soon, the shadow of George Stone would no longer loom over my existence. While everyone thought I was here because some nutbag forged my signature on some documents, that was the farthest thing from the truth.

I knew she was here. Somewhere.

Since I arrived at the Silver Shadows MC, my instincts screamed I was onto something real. The pieces were falling into place, and the final act was about to begin. The path to her was clear, and I would walk it, regardless of the cost. There were times when I could hear her voice, hear her laughter, sense her presence, but when I turned around, there was no one there. It was almost as if she lived within the walls of this clubhouse. But that made no sense. The Silver Shadows weren’t from Nebraska. The club originated in Arkansas. This chapter had only been here for five years, yet I could feel her essence around me.

Sighing, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

I knew I would get no sleep tonight.

Heading downstairs, I walked over to the bar and sat, ignoring a few lingering brothers.

“Hey, Bane. What can I get you?”

“My usual.”

The prospect nodded, placing a tumbler before me, filling it with my special blend.

Taking a drink, I sighed, moving my neck from side to side when Amber, one of the club girls, sat down next to me.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No.”

Neither one of us spoke as we sat in silence, just existing as we drank away the night when I felt my phone vibrate. Groaning, I picked it up off the bar and saw that Silver was calling me.

Connecting the call, I grumbled, “Told you I didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Too fucking bad, asshole. Got a package delivered today for you.”

“Throw it away.”

“Oh, I will once Malice stops using them as a fucking basketball. Bastards getting blood everywhere. If he thinks I’m fucking cleaning it up, he’s fucking crazier than I originally thought.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the two severed heads that were delivered about an hour ago.”

“Whose heads.” I groaned, rolling my eyes as I took another drink.

“Benson Graves and Iris Hughes.”

“So, tell Malice to quit playing with them and have him incinerate them. Why did you call me? You know that bastard doesn’t listen to anything I say.”

“I can handle Malice. I called because whoever sent the heads left you a note.”

“What did it say?”

“She’s within your grasp. All you have to do is reach out and touch her.”