Page 2
Zach
Silver Shadows’ clubhouse, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.
Sitting at my desk, the glow of the computer screen illuminated my tired face. I ignored the wary feeling as my fingers danced over the keyboard, searching for any lead that might bring me closer to finding out where the missing women were. My body ached from fatigue, and I paused to stretch, my muscles protesting with every movement. Rubbing my eyes, I fought off the drowsiness that threatened to overtake me. King wanted answers fast to who the woman was that Declan found. Bad enough he had me looking for the man who drugged Sam, but couple that with the three women who disappeared shortly after getting engaged to Jeremy St. Matthews and keeping watch on what was happening in the biker world, I was stretched thin.
My phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet of my room. As I reached for it, my heart pounded when I glanced at the caller ID.
My body went rigid.
The name displayed on the screen was one I had hoped to avoid.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for what was to come. With a steady hand, I answered the call, preparing for the worst as I brought the phone to my ear.
“Danny?” I said, my voice unwavering despite the turmoil that threatened to overtake me.
“Zach, I need you to do something for me.”
“Okay?” I tentatively whispered, my stomach coiled tight.
“I need you to pretend to be me.”
And just like that, everything I thought evaporated as I laughed.
“Good one, Danny.”
“I’m serious. I need you to pretend to be me for the foreseeable future.”
Chuckling, I leaned back in my chair and scoffed. “Think you need your eyes checked, man. We look nothing alike.”
“Not physically, asshole.”
Sighing, I moaned. I was too tired for mind games.
“I need you to pretend to be the hacker known as Sypher.”
Slowly sitting up, I said, “What exactly are you asking, Danny? There is only one Sypher. You. Not me. You. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“Yes, you can. You are the only one who can pull it off because I know it was you who was in the Trick Pony servers deleting files while I was trying to download everything.”
Stiffening, I whispered, “That wasn’t me.”
“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me, Zach. I also know why. Does King know about your connection to the Brotherhood of Bastards?”
Ignoring that comment, I sneered, “What the fuck do you want, Danny?”
“Like I said. I want you to be me.”
“And like I said, that’s impossible.”
“Open the laptop you let me borrow when I was there and type in Zachary Marshall son of Cerberus .”
“You son of a bitch,” I groaned, getting up from my seat and walked over to the shelf where I kept all my equipment and took the laptop Danny used while he was here. Placing it on my desk, I sat back down and opened it to find the screen blank. The cursor blinked in the upper left corner. Typing in what he told me, I cursed, “What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing yet. It’s what you are going to do.”
“I still haven’t said I would help you.”
“You will. Now hit enter,” Danny growled.
Doing like he said, I watched as the laptop came alive and within seconds, I was looking at the inner workings of Sypher’s brain.
“Now you have access to everything I know and before you even think about deleting anything, you should know that I have an eidetic and photographic memory. I don’t need a computer to do half the shit I do. You help me and I will help you keep your identity a secret.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to activate FIRE.”
“Who?”
Groaning, Danny muttered, “Zach. This will go a lot faster if you just accept the fucking fact that I know everything. I know who you really are. I know where you grew up and why you are hiding, but more importantly, I know you are the contact for FIRE.”
FUCK!
He was right. Typing into the laptop, I pulled up the file he had on me. It was all there. Everything. From the moment I was born, to the moment I joined the Silver Shadows, all in a neat, detailed file.
Sitting back in my chair, I shook my head and sighed.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Type in the phrase, bring the fire .”
Doing what he asked, my eyes widened when I scoured a list of names. Most I knew, some I didn’t, while a few I knew personally. I clenched my fists tightly.
“That is the list I want FIRE to take care of. Can they take care of it by December 25 th ?
Fuck yeah, they could.
“Yeah.” I grinned. “No problem.”
“In the meantime, I need you to personally take care of one of my clients.”
“Who?”
“Moira Kathleen Hartley.”
Frowning, I typed the name into the search bar and when the information popped up, my eyes widened.
“Holy shit!”
“Now do you understand?”
“Yeah. I do,” I muttered as my fingers flew across the keyboard and information popped up at me at a fast rate. Listening to Danny detail everything he needed me to do, I tried to absorb everything I was seeing. Danny wasn’t lying. He fucking knew everything. Knew all the players, and he’d gathered every bit of information he could, to ensure that when the time came, there would be no mistakes before their lives ended.
He gave me everything wrapped up in a pretty neat little bow, and now all I had to do was make damn sure that those responsible paid for their crimes.
“…and when I give myself up to Pandora, you will be my eyes and ears.”
Blinking, I looked at my phone.
“Uh, I’m sorry. I misunderstood that last part. Did you just say when you turn yourself over to Pandora?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus fuck, Danny,” I gasped. “You can’t. That bitch won’t think twice before killing you.”
“Not before she gets everything out of my head.”
“And she will. The bitch has ways.”
“She won’t get a damn thing from me.”
“I don’t think you understand who that bitch is. She is the reason for everything. She is fucking psycho, Danny. Certifiable, insane asylum worthy, straitjacket fucking crazy!”
“And I’m the only one who can stop her.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not doing shit if you are walking into a fucking trap. Think about Dante and Danika, man. They need you. Your club needs you. Your fucking family.”
“I am, Zach, and that’s why I need you to be me. I’m trusting you with everyone that means anything to me. I need you to protect them.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then it won’t matter, because if you can’t protect them, we’re all dead. Even you.”
“Shit, Danny,” I cursed, knowing he was right. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Alright. I’ll do my best, but I’m going to need help. This is too big for me to handle. You got a fucking problem with that?”
“No. It doesn’t matter anymore. The lid is off the box. Tell everyone.”
“Alright, brother. I’ll do my part, but fuck, man, stay alive, okay?”
“Thanks, Zach,” Danny solemnly said before he disconnected the phone.
Rolling over to my computer, I brought up a new secure mainframe and reached out to the only person I knew I could trust.
Need your help.
Not a good time.
Secret is out in the open.
How long?
Days.
What do you need?
Quickly sending him what I could, I waited impatiently for him to respond. When he did, all he said was…
Consider it done.
Opening a new server, I typed the words: Contract accepted. FIRE activated.
Destiny, California.
When my phone pinged, I already knew who it was. It was only a matter of time before I was called. So, when the text came, I just grabbed my bag and left without telling a soul.
My brothers wouldn’t understand.
None of them would.
My past was a closely guarded secret, something I was reluctant to reveal or discuss with anyone. There would come a time when I would have to tell them, but until that day finally came, I resolved to remain quiet. All that mattered now was the mission, and when it was done, I would return home as if nothing had happened.
Just like every time before.
Traveling alone, the journey to the rendezvous point was a solitary experience, marked by quiet contemplation and introspection. As I rode along the quiet roads, the crisp night air filled my lungs, while my mind raced with a chaotic mix of cherished memories and gnawing fears. With every mile, the landscape blurred into the background while my current life receded into the distance, replaced by a growing sense of detachment. I could hear the echoes of my brothers’ laughter and the sharp jabs of their arguments in my mind, a symphony of their bond—a bond I valued above all else.
Yet, I had to leave them behind, at least for now.
Reaching the designated location, I saw the faint flickering light of a streetlamp in the distance. My senses were heightened with anticipation, so I approached cautiously. Seeing the old phone booth, I dialed the lone number I knew by heart. Standing there in the darkness, I listened while the phone rang once before someone answered.
I said nothing as I waited.
“Lawton, Oklahoma. Key pickup in the men’s room of a Taco Bell on the corner of Gore and Sheridan. Second stall.”
And just like that, the call ended.
Hanging up the phone, I headed back to my bike. My targets were marked. Their execution was imminent. Whoever made the call wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t just offer my services to anyone. So, it didn’t matter who the targets were.
They played the game and lost.
Now it was time to pay the piper.
This job was going to require precision, stealth, and above all, accuracy.
The stakes were high, and failure was not an option.
As I headed back to my bike, I couldn’t help but think about the circumstances that led me to this moment. The secrets I kept were not just my own. They were of a legacy, of a lineage steeped in blood and death. My father, like me and his before him, were born bastards. I never knew my mother. I assumed she was just some club whore. Like every bastard before me, I grew up never knowing who my real father was. All I knew was the club he belonged to.
The Brotherhood of Bastards.
Unlike most of my current brothers, I wasn’t raised with a family, in foster care or on the streets. Nope, I was a child of the Trick Pony. When I turned fourteen, I killed the sick fuck who had been abusing me my whole life. Instead of killing me, I was kicked to the curb with no education, no money and no idea where to go. That’s when Maggie found me. She was a nice older woman who, without a single thought, took in a skinny, angry kid off the streets and never looked back. Thanks to Maggie I managed to cram eighteen years of education into my brain in four years and even snagged myself a full ride to Florida State. After college, I joined the military and never looked back. Not once did I ever think of who my actual father was, until a few years ago when I got a call from some hospital in Salem, Oregon telling me that my father was dying and requested to see me.
Call me curious, but I went to go see him, even if it was to tell him to fuck off. But I never got the chance. By the time I made it to the hospital, my old man was dead, and all he left me was an outrageous medical bill and a two worded note saying I’m sorry .
Athens, Texas.
I was different from my brothers in the club. I didn’t share their thirst for adrenaline-fueled nights. I harbored a dark secret, a shameful truth that gnawed at my conscience, one I desperately wanted to keep hidden from the world. It was mine alone. While my brothers all came from different pasts, mine was something darker, more sinister. It cultivated me into the man I was today.
While my club brothers embraced their true selves with confidence and swagger, I hid behind a facade, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I remained hidden, only showing myself when absolutely necessary, the silence my constant shield.
I eventually found a home within the Gods of Mayhem Motorcycle Club. Bound by a sacred code of loyalty and brotherhood, the club transcended blood kinship. Their bond was deeper, stronger, forged in mutual respect and shared purpose. Every member brought with them their individual past, a distinct reason behind their decision to join, their hopes and dreams coloring their reasons. Some ran, desperate to escape the shadows of their past; others marched, driven by a need to find their place in the world. But none of them sensed the heavy, suffocating shadow that hung over my life, a constant, silent threat.
The memories of my past felt like a labyrinth of pain and darkness, each corner echoing with the screams of my lost innocence. The horrors I witnessed as a child—the screams, the blood, the stark expressions of fear—were enough to break any grown man. All I knew was I was a bastard like my father and his father before him. Like me, my father also lived in a world of blood, fear, and violence until that life killed him. By the time I was a teenager, I had seen more bloodshed than most men see in a lifetime.
I didn’t have a childhood. All I remembered was pain. The streets had been my brutal playground and survival was my only lesson.
That’s when I stumbled upon the truth and met the others. Delving deeper into the shadows, I uncovered secrets that shook the very foundation of my beliefs and I found others that had ties to my past, threads of a tapestry I had been too blind to see. Each revelation was a blow, unmasking the lies and deceit that had shaped my existence.
I knew when I received the text telling me to head to New York City and that more information would follow, I couldn’t ignore it.
None of us could.
Someone had opened the gates of Hell and now fire would reign down until nothing but death remained. Some called us the Four Horsemen, some called us the Grim Reapers, but most just called us FIRE. You couldn’t get one of us without the others. Anyone calling for our help had to be either stupid or desperate, because when we showed up, nothing survived.
There were four of us. Brothers. Well, brothers in every way but blood. More so than those in the clubhouse. Not that I would ever admit that to my club brothers. There were just some things in life that bonded men together more than blood and that was what happened in our case. No, we didn’t share a drop of DNA, but what we experienced forged our commitment to each other in the fires of Hell and not even death would destroy that.
It was only by joining the Gods of Mayhem that I found some semblance of peace. The roar of the engine, the wind in my hair, the camaraderie of my brothers—it was the escape I needed. But I still wore a mask, pretending to be a carefree biker while hiding the darkness within.
Only my Prez suspected there was more to my story. He saw the way I fought, the ruthlessness in my eyes during confrontations. But he respected my silence, understanding that everyone had their own demons. I knew he would notice my absence come morning, but he wouldn’t say a word. He never did.
The night was cold when I slipped from the clubhouse. The brothers were partying again, and the music was pumping. None of them spared me a glance when I disappeared into the shadows. Heading for my bike, I saw nothing around for miles as I threw my leg over my bike.
“Come back to us, brother.”
Looking into the darkness, Zeus appeared out of nowhere, and I said nothing when he walked past my bike, heading for the clubhouse. He didn’t look back. I knew he wouldn’t.
Starting my bike, I rode away from the family I claimed, to kill the family that destroyed mine.
Savannah, Georgia.
In the dimly lit restaurant, laughter filled the air while I watched the couple enjoy their dinner, completely unaware of the impending danger that loomed not far from where they sat. Their faces, illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight, reflected joy and contentment as they leaned toward one another, whispering secrets and whatnots, oblivious to the outside world and its relentless rush.
From the shadows of a darkened corner, I observed them intently. My eyes, cold and calculating, never left the couple. Cloaked in anonymity, I blended seamlessly into the obscurity, my presence unperceived by the bustling diners and attentive waitstaff. The steady hum of conversation and clinking cutlery provided the perfect cover for my silent surveillance.
I watched as they toasted to some private victory, the clinking of their glasses barely audible above the din. Every gesture, every laugh, every shared glance was meticulously noted. The couple, wrapped in their bubble of contentment, remained blissfully ignorant of my sinister gaze fixed upon them.
Outside, the night deepened, the sky a canvas of inky black smeared with pinpricks of starlight. The restaurant’s warmth was a stark contrast to the chill that crept through the cracks of the city’s forgotten alleys. In the corner, my breath fogged slightly in the cooler air, a fleeting reminder of my presence.
My mind raced with thoughts, each one more foreboding than the last. What was my purpose? Was it revenge that brought me here, or something darker still? The couple, lost in their moment, had no inkling of the fate that loomed just beyond their line of sight.
The waiter approached their table, refilling their glasses and exchanging pleasantries. I tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring, waiting for the right moment. Time seemed to stretch, each second dripped like molasses through the sieve of fate.
The couple laughed again, oblivious to the danger lurking just out of sight, and my fingers grazed the edge of my coat pocket. What lay within was uncertain, but my intent was clear. The shadows seemed to tighten around me, as if the darkness itself conspired in my silent plot.
And so, the evening wore on, a delicate dance of light and shadow, joy and foreboding. The couple’s laughter echoed through the restaurant, as the restaurant door swung open, the chill of the night air seeped into the warm interior when I felt my phone vibrate.
Reaching for it, I read the text.
FIRE ACTIVATED. Head to Saltillo, Mexico. More to follow.
Shaking my head, I looked once more at the couple and smirked.
They would never know how close they came to death tonight.
Slipping out of the shadows, my movements were swift and purposeful as I melted into the darkness outside, the city swallowing me whole. Each step I took was a step closer to my salvation. A desire I had harbored for as long as I could remember. Looking back at the couple once more, I watched while they continued their evening, oblivious to who had been watching them and the silent storm that had just departed. Their laughter rang out, a moment of pure, untainted joy in a world fraught with unseen dangers. The night, however, was far from over, as I vanished into the labyrinth of the city, a sense of impending doom lingered in the air. I smiled knowing that someone just unleashed the fires of Hell.
Purgatory, California.
Sitting quietly in a chair, I watched her sleep. The pale light of the moon filtered through the curtains and cast a soft glow over her restless form. She was having a nightmare again. Her brows furrowed and faint murmurs escaped her lips, a testament to the turmoil that plagued her dreams. I wanted so much to ease her pain, to reach out and chase away the shadows that haunted her. But until she opened up and talked to me, all I could do was be here for her.
Minutes felt like hours as I kept my silent vigil. The clock ticked away, a relentless reminder of my helplessness. Seeing her like this made me feel useless when all I wanted was to matter. The weight of her unspoken suffering pressed heavily on my heart, a burden I bore willingly yet painfully. I longed for the day when she would trust me enough to share her fears, to let me in and allow me to help her heal.
In those quiet moments, I resolved to be patient, to be a steady presence in her life, no matter how long it took. Because sometimes, love meant standing by someone’s side in silence, holding space for them until they were ready to speak. And so, I sat and watched over her, hoping that one day, my unwavering support would be enough to break through the barriers that kept her pain locked away.
From the moment I realized she lived, I made her a vow that nothing or no one would ever hurt her again, and so far, I had kept my promise. It was an oath forged in the crucible of desperation and fear, but also one tempered by love and unwavering resolve.
My life was anything but peaceful as a storm silently brewed on the horizon, and when it broke, I feared my past would whisk her away. For years, I stayed hidden in the shadows. Unknowingly becoming the man she would someday need me to be. When the truth of my existence became known, I knew they would use her to get to me.
Throughout my life, I never allowed myself to get attached, refusing to allow my past to destroy another life. But like most things in life, fate had other plans, and when I learned she survived, I felt an irrevocable shift in the course of my destiny.
She was mine.
Mine to protect.
She came into my life like a whisper in the wind, a fragile creature who had faced more hardships than anyone her age should ever endure. Her eyes, wide and innocent, held a story of resilience and strength that belied her tender years. In that moment, I knew my purpose had changed. My life was no longer about my own pursuits and ambitions.
My life was now irrevocably intertwined with hers, and in that moment, I made a vow, not just a promise, a solemn declaration that resonated deep within my soul. I swore to be her champion, her protector, and her shield against the harsh realities of the world. The words came naturally, as if they had been etched into my very being long before I ever spoke them out loud.
From that day forward, my every action was guided by my unbreakable commitment. I became more vigilant, more aware of the dangers that lurked around every corner. I scrutinized every situation, assessed every risk, and calculated every move with the precision of a seasoned strategist. My sole objective was her safety and well-being.
My new path would not be an easy one. There were moments of doubt, of fear, and of overwhelming responsibility. The weight of my promise sometimes felt like an unyielding burden, pressing down on my shoulders with relentless force. But each time I looked into her eyes and saw her trust reflected back at me, my resolve strengthened.
Sitting here, I never took my eyes off her, when I felt my phone vibrate. Reaching for it, I read the incoming text as a burning fire I tried so desperately to contain threatened to consume me, its searing heat made me sweat as my fist balled tightly.
FIRE ACTIVATED.
Head to Miami, Florida. More to follow.
A feral grin stretched across my face, a slow, animalistic smile that mirrored the fire within me. The fire I had been desperately trying to suppress, finally consumed me in its burning fury. With a purposeful movement, I stood and walked over to where she lay sleeping. Leaning over her, I gently kissed her forehead and whispered, “Gotta go kill some monsters, baby.”
Taking one last look at her, I turned and headed for the door as the gates of Hell burst open with a deafening roar, unleashing a fiery inferno that would consume everyone in its wake. May God have mercy on everyone’s soul.