Page 42

Hammer

The phone buzzed against the nightstand, dragging me from a dreamless sleep with its insistent vibration.

The dim light of early morning filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across Amelia’s sleeping form beside me.

I reached for the phone with my bruised hand, wincing as my split knuckles protested the movement.

Savior’s name lit up the screen. My President wouldn’t call at this hour unless it was important. Unless it was about Piston.

I slid from the bed carefully, not wanting to wake Amelia. She’d finally fallen asleep just a few hours ago, the tension of the past days etched in the lines around her eyes even in rest. She deserved whatever peace sleep could give her.

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice rough with sleep as I stepped into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door shut behind me.

“It’s done,” Savior said without preamble. “Piston’s dead.”

Four simple words. Just four words to end the nightmare that had followed Amelia and her boys across state lines. Three words that should have filled me with nothing but relief.

“How?” I asked, my bruised knuckles tightening around the phone.

“Crimson Skulls caught him trying to rally reinforcements at a truck stop just inside their territory,” Savior explained, his voice matter of fact.

“Seems our plan worked better than expected. The Boneyard pushed from the south, we held the middle, and the Savage Knights blocked the west. Minions had nowhere to go but north.”

“And the Skulls were waiting,” I finished for him.

“Exactly. Their President called an hour ago. Said Piston made the mistake of mouthing off about Amelia and the boys. About you.” Savior paused, and I could almost see the grim satisfaction on his face.

“Skulls’ President took personal offense to how Piston talked about family.

Said he didn’t suffer fools who didn’t understand the value of blood. ”

I leaned against the wall, processing the information.

It was over. The threat Piston posed to my family -- and they were my family now, no matter what papers said -- was eliminated.

Yet instead of pure relief, I felt a tangle of emotions I hadn’t expected.

Satisfaction, yes. But also a hollow disappointment that I hadn’t been the one to end him myself.

That I hadn’t gotten to look in his eyes as he realized he’d never threaten what was mine again.

“You still there?” Savior’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just taking it in.”

“Figured you might have wanted to handle him yourself,” Savior said, reading my mind the way only a brother could. “But it’s cleaner this way. No blowback on us. No risk to Amelia or the boys.”

He was right, of course. Piston’s death at the hands of another club, in another territory, during what could be explained as a turf dispute -- it was strategically perfect. My personal satisfaction wasn’t worth risking my family’s safety.

“What about the rest of the Minions?” I asked, practical concerns taking over.

“Scattered. Some headed back to Florida with their tails between their legs. Others holed up in Georgia. Their national President is already sending signals about a truce. Seems they’ve decided Piston’s vendetta died with him.”

“Good,” I said, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks for the call.”

“Figured you’d want to know right away. Give Amelia and the boys the good news.” There was a pause, then Savior added, “It’s really over, brother. You can breathe now.”

I ended the call, standing motionless in the hallway for a long moment. The house was quiet except for the soft sounds of movement from the kitchen -- dishes clinking, murmured voices. Had to be the boys, or Aura. I just didn’t know why they would be awake at this hour.

I made my way to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene.

Aura stood at the stove, her back to me as she flipped pancakes.

Chase sat at the table, hunched over a textbook Looked like he’d forgotten to do his homework, or was cramming for a test. Levi was arranging bacon on a plate, his methodical movements reminding me of how Wire organized his tech gear before a job.

It was such a normal moment. Domestic. Ordinary. Everything Piston had threatened to destroy.

Aura tensed then looked my way. Her smile faltered when she saw my expression. “Dad, what is it?”

Chase’s head snapped up, immediately alert to the shift in tone. Levi froze mid-motion, bacon forgotten as his eyes darted between Aura and me.

I stepped fully into the kitchen, feeling the weight of all three gazes. “It’s over,” I said, keeping my voice steady, measured. “Piston’s dead.”

Chase drew in a sharp breath, his knuckles whitening around his spoon. Levi’s eyes widened to perfect circles, his slight frame seeming to shrink further into itself.

“Well, that’s good news. Right?” She glanced at the boys, probably trying to determine how they felt about the news. “When did it happen?”

“Early this morning,” I replied. “Crimson Skulls territory. Our plan worked -- we forced the Minions north, and the Skulls were waiting.”

“You weren’t there?” The question came from Chase, surprising me. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between relief and disappointment.

“No,” I admitted. “It happened up north, and it was fast. The clubs worked together. Pushed the Minions exactly where we wanted them. Savior confirmed it. The Minions are scattered. Their national President is already signaling for peace. Piston’s vendetta died with him.”

Levi’s voice was small, uncertain. “Does that mean we’re safe now?”

“Yes,” I told him with absolute certainty. “It means you’re safe.”

“But what if some of his friends --” Chase began, ever the protector, always searching for the next threat.

“There’s no ‘what if’,” I interrupted, moving to stand beside him. I placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Nobody’s coming after you again. Not ever.”

The finality in my tone seemed to reach him. Something shifted in his expression, a guard lowering fractionally. “You promise?”

In that moment, he wasn’t the tough teenager who’d been shouldering responsibility beyond his years. He was just a kid asking for reassurance from his father -- from me. The weight of that trust settled in my chest, heavy but welcome.

“I promise,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “You, your brother, your mom -- you’re Williams now. Under my protection. Under the club’s protection. That means something in our world.”

I could clearly see the relief on Chase’s face. “We can stop running.”

The magnitude of what that meant for them -- for all of us -- hung in the air. No more looking over shoulders. No more worst-case scenarios. No more nightmares about Piston returning to reclaim what he considered his property.

“We can just… live,” Levi said quietly, wonder in his voice.

I nodded, taking in their faces, the one who had become the center of my world in such a short time. My family. My responsibility. Mine to protect, but now -- finally -- also mine to see flourish without the shadow of Piston’s threat hanging over us.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, the gruffness in my voice unable to hide the emotion behind it. “We can just live.”

* * *

The kitchen fell into a strange quiet as we all adjusted to the news.

I watched Amelia move mechanically to the stove, rescuing pancakes that had nearly burned after Aura had run off saying she needed a bathroom break.

My wife walked in right after I’d delivered the news, and she’d reacted about the same as the boys.

Chase returned to his book without really seeing the pages.

Or so I assumed, since I doubted it took him ten minutes to read one page.

Levi methodically arranged and rearranged the bacon strips on the plate, finding comfort in the simple task.

It was the quiet after a storm -- relief mixed with disbelief, our minds still struggling to accept that the threat was truly gone.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket, and for a moment I considered ignoring it.

But old habits die hard in this life. I pulled it out, expecting Savior with more details about Piston, and instead found a text from Wire that made my stomach drop.

WRATH WANTS TO MEET HIS DAUGHTER AND GRANDSONS. HE’S REQUESTING A CALL ASAP .

I stared at the screen, reading the message three times as its implications settled into my bones like a winter chill.

Wrath. Amelia’s father. For one, Wire had sent it in all caps.

That was never a good sign. For another, I hadn’t expected Wrath to make a decision so quickly.

The President of the Savage Knights who’d never known he had a daughter -- until we’d reached out to him for help against Piston.

I’d never met the man personally, but his reputation stretched across state lines.

A powerful President, respected, feared.

The kind of man who took care of his own.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, not ready to share its contents.

The threat of Piston might be gone, but now another possibility loomed -- one I hadn’t fully considered when we’d contacted Wrath.

What if Amelia and the boys preferred the protection of her biological father?

What if they chose to leave Alabama behind for a fresh start in Nevada?

My chest tightened at the thought of the empty rooms they would leave behind.

The silence in place of Levi’s quiet questions about engines.

The absence of Chase’s reluctant half-smiles when I showed him something new on the bikes.

The loss of Amelia’s warmth beside me in our bed.

My life before them seemed like a faded photograph now -- recognizable but lacking color and substance.

And despite the fact Reapers never divorced, I wouldn’t lock her down and force her to remain.

We’d just be married and living in different states.