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Montana

St. John’s Presbyterian Hospital, New York.

“We can’t stay here forever. We’re sitting ducks,” I said, looking out the window down at the city I grew up in. This was my home. Always had been, always would be. I loved everything about this city, the good and the bad. I just never thought that the city I loved would be the city that kept me captive.

“We don’t have a choice. Until Sypher is stable enough to be moved, we’re stuck here,” Reaper stated as he took a seat at the table in the conference room on the private floor.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been on this floor. The last time was when Largo went into labor with Sophia. Mercy wasn’t taking any chances and paid handsomely for his wife to have all her needs met. If Tessa hadn’t done her runner, my son would have been born here as well.

“The place is secure,” Mercy said from the doorway. “Got brothers on the stairwells and elevator. No one is getting on this floor without a fight, and Malice took care of the remaining two Primary Brothers. We’re good for now.”

Reaper said nothing as he reached for a bottle of Hell’s Breath, pouring himself a drink. How that asshole snagged himself a bottle of whiskey I would never know. Shaking my head, I grabbed the bottle from him and poured myself a drink as well. I didn’t know what he was planning but I guessed it was bad, like no survivors bad.

Had to admit, though, he had a point, and it would solve a lot of my problems

There was only one problem I couldn’t get around.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?” he said, downing the glass of whiskey before pouring himself another glass.

“Why my dad kept my daughter alive,” I said, staring at Reaper and watching him flinch. “That makes no sense. Mere said he killed Bella’s parents. Why not just kill Bella and my daughter?”

“You sure you’re ready to learn the truth, ‘cause it’s not fucking pretty?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“Power is a funny thing, fucknuts. Everyone wants it, but only a few have the balls to take it. Your dad tried and failed, just like his pops before him, but I have faith that you will be different.”

I stood at the window, gazing down at the cityscape that had been my home for my entire life. A profound sense of uncertainty washed over me, leaving me to question if I had ever truly understood anything at all. Ever since Reaper first suggested that there was deception within our own organizations, a sense of unease took root, a feeling that he might actually be correct in his assessment.

Fucker had been right about everything from the beginning. Why would he lie now? The moment my world intersected with that of the Golden Skulls, I was forced to confront a harsh truth: my understanding of the world was fundamentally flawed and what I believed to be true paled in comparison to the actual circumstances of my life.

The fact was, Reaper seemed to be the only person who understood the gravity of what lay ahead of him, yet instead of washing his hands of me and the others, he waited and watched as we all made moves and countermoves in our thirst for dominance. That in itself spoke volumes to his patience and understanding of the situation. He didn’t try to persuade us. He allowed us to discover the reality of our situations in our own time while offering assistance when he could. And what did I go and do?

I fucking laughed in his face and told him to get fucked.

What the hell did that say about me?

Hanging my head, I sighed, closing my eyes.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Admitting that tells me you’re not.”

“How am I going to help you protect Sypher if I can’t trust my own brothers?”

“You already know who’s loyal, Montana. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

Turning, I looked at him and smirked. “I think I prefer fucknuts.”

Reaper grinned. “Well, fucknuts, what are you going to do now?”

“What would you do?”

Reaper threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, you really don’t want to ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you already know what I would do.”

“Kill them all.”

“Now you’re thinking like a real biker president. Keep your family close and fuck everyone else, brother. In the end, all that really matters is the brother at your back. So pick wisely.”

Mercy walked into the room, his face pale as he looked at Reaper.

“What?”

“It’s bad, boss.”

“Just tell me.”

“As soon as the table issued the order, most of our clubs aligned with Happy. The only one loyal to us is the Alabama Chapter. They are heading to the Golden Skulls Tennessee Chapter for aid.”

“Grudge?” Reaper asked, taking a step toward my VP. I knew why too, because Grudge was a blood brother to Matrix, a brother in the Golden Skulls.

“Alive,” Mercy quickly stated. “But they took heavy casualties.”

“Reaper, will you grant my brothers sanctuary?”

“Consider it done,” the man stated, reaching for his phone.

Nodding, I looked at Mercy and asked, “Where is Happy now?”

When my VP stayed silent, then looked at Reaper, I took a step forward and sneered, “What else happened?”

Mercy gulped. “Our Southern California Chapter attacked Disturbed.”

Stumbling back, I shook my head as my back hit the wall hard.

“My daughter?” Reaper growled, rounding on my VP.

“Safe,” Mercy stated firmly. “Disturbed was ready for them and they killed the whole chapter, Montana. They’re gone.”

“FUCK!” I roared, turning fast to punch a hole in the new drywall.

“Listen, fucknuts,” Reaper barked. “It’s about as bad as it can get. You knew when the table issued the order, all hell would break loose. Well, it has. The clubs are pitting themselves against each other. The only way to fix this fucking mess is to prove that Sypher is still alive.”

“It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I know.” Reaper nodded. “I know your first instinct is to leave, but brother, you can’t. You need to trust that Luc and his club will protect Emma, because they can. Those fuckers are highly trained former special forces. Their first concern will be her safety. Trust them to do their jobs.”

Shaking my head, I seethed, “She’s your daughter. Do you trust them that much?”

“Yes. Don’t forget that Luc is also Sandman’s father and Ivy is Malice’s sister. Trust me. Disturbed knows the score.”

“She’s my granddaughter, Max.”

“I know, brother,” he firmly said. “But you are no good to her there. As long as the threat exists, she will always be in danger. What you need to do is let everything you are feeling right now take hold. Breathe it in, let it soak into your veins and let it take root in your soul, for it will be the only thing that gets you through what you need to do next.”

“Tell me you have a plan?” I growled, looking at the man.

“I do, but I need to know that you can do what comes next. If not, say the word and I will go it alone.”

Pushing off the wall, I squared my shoulders and hardened my stance as I vowed, “This ends now.”

“Then let’s go shed some blood.”

“There is something else,” Mercy reluctantly admitted. “I don’t know what to make of it, but you need to see this.

Turning his phone around so we could see it read.

Sypher: Warned Disturbed. You’re welcome.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Valhalla

St. John’s Presbyterian Hospital, New York.

The current Electroencephalogram (EEG) results for Sypher were not promising. The necessity for a contrast MRI was evident, as the swelling had decreased, but the EEG presented concerning data. Despite my proficiency and reputation as one of the foremost neurosurgeons, I acknowledged my limitations. I was adept at my profession, but I was not omnipotent.

In my interactions with the relatives of my patients, I favored straightforwardness. Clear communication minimized misunderstandings and fostered realistic expectations. Sypher had sustained a significant brain injury and there was a limit to what medical intervention could achieve. The trajectory of his recovery and the quality of his future life were uncertain and hinged on time and his body’s response to treatment.

Ordinary families typically grasped this reality, yet the Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club and Sypher’s family harbored different expectations. They demanded a miraculous recovery, an outcome that defied medical probabilities. This pressure from his family added a layer of complexity to an already challenging situation.

Sypher’s family was unlikely to be content with the current prognosis and if I failed to devise a solution, their discontent would be directed towards me. The burden of their expectations weighed heavily and the necessity for a miracle seemed more a demand than a hope.

I already blamed myself for Sypher’s situation. What the young man did was admirable. He only wanted to save those he loved. Any person would, but to put himself in harm’s way to end a war that was bigger than him was a battle he lost and now he was paying the price. We all were.

My mind wandered to the moments leading up to Sypher’s injury. His bravery was undeniable, but the consequences of his actions were now etched in every scan and every test result. The weight of his sacrifice pressed heavily on my shoulders. The Golden Skulls expected me to pull off a miracle, but the reality was stark and unyielding. As much as I wanted to rise to their expectations, I knew that sometimes, even the best efforts could not alter the course of fate.

“Dr. Robinette?”

Turning to the nurse beside me and closing Sypher’s chart, I instructed, “He needs a contrast MRI. Come find me when it’s set up. I want to be there when the results come in.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. There was no way I would ever be able to stand before my son and tell him I couldn’t save Sypher. So many lives had already been destroyed by that evil woman Jane Craven and her lackeys, I refused to let her claim another victim.

I had to find a way to save this young man. The challenge was immense, but surrender was not an option. Sypher’s fate was now intertwined with my own and the shadow of Jane Craven loomed over us both. The pressure to succeed was intense, but it also fueled my determination.

From the moment I woke up at the Trick Pony, I knew my life would never be the same and it wasn’t. The day I escaped that horrible place, I started planning. Had I known back then that the baby I held in my arms was my son, I would have done things differently. I couldn’t change the past, but I could alter the future if I could find a way to save Sypher.

Now, as I stood in the sterile confines of the hospital, the weight of that resolve bore down on me. My thoughts drifted back to the chaotic scenes at the Trick Pony, my desperate flight for freedom and the relentless pursuit that followed. Each memory was a testament to the strength and resilience that had brought me to this moment. Saving Sypher was more than a professional obligation. It was a personal crusade, a chance to redeem the past and secure a future for my son.

The stakes were higher than ever. Sypher’s battle was my battle, and every decision I made would reverberate through the lives intertwined with his. As the nurse set up the contrast MRI, I steeled myself for the challenges ahead. The path to recovery was fraught with obstacles, but surrender was not an option. The shadow of Jane Craven and her malevolence had loomed long enough. It was time to confront it head-on, for Sypher, for my son, and for all those who had suffered under her tyranny.

I would find a way to save this young man. The road ahead was daunting, but with determination and unwavering resolve, I would navigate it. The future depended on it.

I didn’t lie to Montana and the others when I told them of my past.

I lived a charmed life until I didn’t. Even after I escaped the Trick Pony, I wanted so much to return to the life I once lived but I knew that was impossible.

Not with George Stone still alive.

So instead, I ran. I ran back to the Trick Pony to save my daughter. I may not remember giving birth to my son, but I was coherent enough to hear my daughter cry as someone said, it was a girl. Yet, when I returned for her, she wasn’t there, and my real nightmare truly began.

For the next few years, I suffered at the hands of Jane. The woman was relentless, despicable and evil in her pursuits to punish me, to break me. She almost succeeded too if it weren’t for him.

The one who saved me.

I never knew his name, only that one day he was there and all my pain had disappeared.

In the dim light of my prison, I learned to welcome the pain. It seeped into my bones until nothing else mattered. I embraced it, wrapped it around me like a cloak. Because even I knew pain meant I was still alive. Each throb, each pang was a testament to my existence, a reminder that my heart still beat, my lungs still drew breath. The shadows whispered tales of despair, but I clung to the raw sensation of pain as my anchor.

In the early days of my captivity, I had fought against it. I had railed against the agony, the bruises and the cuts. My screams had echoed off the cold, unforgiving walls, but there was no one to hear, no one to answer. Despair threatened to drown me, but slowly, insidiously, the pain became my ally. It was the only thing I could count on, the only constant in my dark and lonely world.

I would survive this, I knew. And when I did, my real test would begin. Because when I escaped this place, I would remember every moment, every slight, every cruelty. I would channel my pain into something powerful, something unstoppable. Revenge would be mine, not out of spite, but out of necessity. I didn’t know when or how, but I was patient. The pain had taught me that. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, but I remained steadfast, holding onto the promise of retribution.

She wanted to break me. All she did was make me stronger, forging my spirit in the crucible of suffering. Her attempts to diminish me only served to build my resolve. Every time she came to taunt, to inflict more torment, I met her gaze with unwavering defiance. She would see, someday soon, how truly strong I was. The glint of hatred in her eyes, the sneer on her lips, only fueled my determination.

Jane was a vile woman. She cared for nothing. She was constructed of pure hate and depravity. She was the monster under the bed, the darkness that lurked in the shadows. The undeniable pain that everyone feared. Yet, in her attempts to break me, she had only fortified my spirit. My resolve was a fortress, built brick by brick from the very torment she sought to use against me.

Her malevolent gaze, filled with disdain, no longer held the power to crush me. Instead, it became a mirror reflecting her own emptiness, her own desolation. I saw through her facade, past the cruelty and sadism, to the hollow void that lay within. She was a prisoner of her own darkness, trapped in a cycle of hatred and misery.

As I lay in the cold, damp cell, I envisioned the day of my liberation. It was a beacon of hope that pierced through the gloom, illuminating the path to my vengeance. I would rise from these ashes, stronger and more resolute than ever. And when that day came, she would realize that the true power of pain is not in its ability to destroy, but in its capacity to transform.

I heard shouts. Knew something was wrong when I heard the metal grind as someone opened the door to my cell. My heart pounded in my chest, a wild drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The dim light outside my cell flickered while shadows danced across the walls, hinting at chaos beyond the door.

My muscles tensed, ready to spring into action if the opportunity presented itself. For so long, I had dreamed of this moment, the chance to escape, to turn the tables on my captor. The door creaked open and a figure stood silhouetted against the corridor’s dim illumination.

It wasn’t Jane. Instead, a tall stranger stood before me, cloaked in uncertainty and urgency. “We have to go,” he whispered, his voice a gravelly blend of anger and determination. “Now.”

Hesitation gripped me for a brief second. Could this be a trick, another cruel game orchestrated by Jane? But the turmoil outside, the clanging of metal and the distant cries, suggested otherwise. The stranger stepped closer, revealing a face etched with concern and resolve.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from disuse.

“No time to explain,” he responded, giving me no choice as he effortlessly picked me up. “Trust me, if you want to live, we have to move.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, steeling myself for what lay ahead. With one last glance at the cell that had been both my prison and my forge, I clutched the stranger’s neck as he ushered me out of the cell. The corridor was a labyrinth of shadows, each turn fraught with potential danger. My senses were heightened, every sound and movement amplified as he navigated the narrow passageways. The stranger led with confidence, his familiarity with the layout evident.

I didn’t know the man who carried me, but as he strode down the darkened hall, I felt his power radiate around him. He was not someone to challenge. For some reason, he was determined to get me out of this place and I was going to let him. The urgency in his actions and the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. My survival hinged on his resolve, and I had no choice but to trust him.

When we emerged from the cell, I saw several men, all just as determined as my rescuer to save as many as they could. Each moved with a purposeful stride, their faces set in grim resolve. The surrounding chaos was a symphony of urgency, with every note striking a chord in my heart. The walls seemed to pulse with the collective effort of liberation and for the first time in a long while, I felt the stirrings of hope.

I wish I could say that hope lasted, but it didn’t because the second we were far enough away from the Trick Pony, the stranger handed me a couple hundred bucks, wished me luck and walked away, leaving me to decide what to do next. That was the last time I ever saw him.

“Val!” Montana shouted loudly, ripping me from my past. Turning to see the man storming toward me, along with Reaper and Mercy, I steeled myself for whatever asinine fit the son of a bitch was in.

Sighing, I rubbed my neck and groaned. “What happened now?”

“Why didn’t you tell us that Sypher was awake?”

Blinking, I looked at the gruff asshole and sneered, “He’s not. He’s still in a coma.”

“Bullshit,” Mercy stated. “Then how in the hell did he just send me a text?”

Showing me his phone, I looked at it and frowned. “That’s impossible.”

Pushing past them, I hurriedly walked down the long hall toward Sypher’s room. Upon entering, I found it completely empty, and the nurse from earlier walked over and explained, “The MRI techs need another hour.”

Absently, I muttered, “Did you move him?”

“No, ma’am. You told me to schedule the MRI first.”

Rounding on the woman, I yelled, “Then where is he?”

Montana, Reaper, and Mercy both rushed into the room and started shouting.

This was not fucking good.

Sypher was gone.

Reaper

I was going to kill someone fast if they didn’t start talking.

I always knew when the shit hit the fan that I would have to be the one to clean up the mess. For years, I watched those in power struggle to maintain their hold on what was technically never theirs to begin with. My father included.

Greed was a nasty thing, but the illusion of power was blinding. Montana learned that lesson the hard way. I tried to warn him several times, but the fucker wasn’t ready to hear the truth.

After searching the entire private floor and finding nothing, we knew that someone betrayed us. Someone on this fucking floor was working against us and when I figured out which motherfucker it was, I was going to kill them with my bare hands.

As I looked around the room, I glared. “Let me be very fucking clear. Either someone admits they fucked up right fucking now or I will reign down hell on everyone in this fucking room. Someone has to know something. Now I know it wasn’t fucknuts ‘cause the bastard’s been glued to my ass since shit went down, but all of you better start explaining.”

“You can’t think I did something,” Trout spoke up first, looking at the men around him then at me. “Danny’s my brother. I would never do anything to hurt him. I want him fixed. Not dead!”

“What about you, Ace?” Montana sneered threateningly as he stood beside me, arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve been pretty fucking vocal about his care since the surgery.”

“Fuck you, Montana!” Ace roared, jumping to his feet. “It wasn’t me.”

“Fucknuts has a point, Ace,” I seethed, backing him up. “You fucking hate the club life and tried your damndest to keep Sypher away from his family. You’ve got the means and power to pull something like this off.”

Ace snarled as Matthew Law threw out his arm to stop Ace. “It wasn’t Harbor Security. Danny owns the company now. Anything happens to him, we’re dead too. Why not ask one of your brothers, like Fury? Ask him where he was?”

Fury’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Where were you, Fury?” Montana snarled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” the man shouted. “It wasn’t me!”

“Not gonna ask you again.”

“I went to check on Carly, okay!” Fury fumed. “My wife is still in a coma in this fucking hospital. I went to sit with her and talk to her doctors. If you don’t believe me, then check the fucking cameras!”

“Oh, we will,” I growled, glaring at Chipper. “What about you?”

Chipper shook his head and stated, “I was down in the cafeteria.”

“Where’s Malice?” Valhalla spoke up, as my head snapped quickly about the room. Montana stiffened, as he too turned around, looking for the Soulless Sinner enforcer.

“Find the dead son of a bitch!”