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SADIE

I make it all the way to my room before I lose it. I hate crying, but it seems it’s all I do because of him.

Stripping out of the dress, I toss it in the chair by the window and head into the closet to find something else to wear. I settle on a pair of yoga pants and a Kustom Armor Tattoo t-shirt I stole from Jake and made into a half-shirt. Walking back out into the room, it smells like Hawk. Cinnamon, cedar, with a hint of vanilla—and hot, sweaty sex.

I can’t stay in here.

Deciding to do something useful with my time instead of hanging around in here with the memories of everything we’ve done together, I head for the gym, stopping by my office to grab some noise canceling headphones first. It’s only been a couple of days since I’ve worked out. With the party and then recovering from the drugs, it didn’t seem important. But now, now I need to hit something.

When I grab my headphones, I bump the mouse and my computer comes to life, showing I have a new email from Avery. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I sit down and open it. My eyes tear up again at the sight before me.

Welcome to the Family

Emily Elizabeth Anderson

Born: October 23, 2025, at 11:25am

6 lbs 11 oz 21 inches

Skyler and Ethan’s baby girl is beautiful, wrapped up in her pink, brown, and white striped blanket with a little pink bow on her head as she sleeps.

I missed it.

I missed the birth of their baby. I’m missing the planning of Avery’s wedding.

Life is going on without me.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, knowing that I’ve been gone several weeks, and everyone is moving on with their day-to-day lives as if I never left.

I guess I’m not a King after all.

I don’t bother shutting off the computer and grab my headphones, then head for the gym. I need to work off some energy and get my head back in the game. My soul focus needs to be on this mission and destroying everything Cusenza has built. I want to tear down his entire empire from the inside out.

I wrap my hands and move straight for the punching bag. Music blares in my ears and I let it fuel my anger. Striking the bag over and over, I relive all my childhood memories. Back to school night in Miss Seagull’s kindergarten class, having to explain that Mack and Lisa aren’t my real parents, they’re Jayde’s.

They took me in like a lost puppy who needed a home.

Eight years old, getting sent to the principal’s office for punching Katie Mosbey in the face for calling the Kings worthless hoodlums who belong in jail. When Mack came to pick me up, he didn’t even ask me what she said, just grounded me for two weeks and took away my video game privileges.

He didn’t care that I was sticking up for my family. “Girls don’t get into fights. Fighting is for boys.”

His words ring through my mind as I continue to strike the bag. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross. He may not have wanted his girls to fight, but every single one of us can throw a punch and handle our own. Hell, Jinx taught me to throw a punch early. She used to get picked on when we were kids too. But she was right. She told me to throw a punch and land it hard. Bullies don’t fuck with people who can fight back.

I remember getting kicked out of middle school at the end of the year and sent away to Vantenburg Prep in Baron’s Edge, where Mack could be sure to keep an eye on me and the curriculum was guaranteed to challenge me.

Wrong on both accounts.

Mack worked too much to be able to keep tabs on me, and the curriculum was so boring, I not only aced it, but had enough time to fuck around with the transformers and administration office computers getting us several unplanned days off from school due to technical issues on campus.

I think about the night Nate was picked up and watching Hawk get drunk and slink off with Candi.

He expects me to come to him when I’m hurting, but he never came to me. I wasn’t good enough. I’ll never be good enough. I’m a prize to be bossed around and shown off like a trophy on the back of his bike. I’ll never be taken seriously .

I throw punch after punch until my breathing becomes too intense and my body burns with pain.

Hawk’s not going to let me do this the way I want to. He’s going to convince Matteo and Vincenzo not to let me go, and then everything we’ve been working for— I’ve been working for—will be for nothing. The club will have blown up the foster care facilities, putting a target on their backs, and it will all be for nothing because Cusenza will still have his fucking island and his paid officials who will let him get away with trafficking and drug smuggling and every other fucking thing because he’s making them money.

I continue punching the bag several more times, circling around as I go. When I get to the opposite side of the bag, I notice Asha standing near the door, her hands cupped around her mouth. When I pull off my headphones, I realize she’s been shouting my name.

“Damn, girl! You mad at the bag, or what? I’ve been calling your name for a few minutes.” She smiles, pointing at the bag I’m currently holding against my body. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she looks like she’s come ready to train in her form fitting outfit and trainers.

“Sorry. I had my music turned up. Needed to work off some frustration,” I tell her honestly.

“Are you good, or do you want to keep going? I can run you through the paces if you need to keep going,” she offers, and I’m too quick to accept. My anger is still coursing through me. At least if we work out in the ring, I can say I did something productive with myself.

“What brings you by, Asha?”

“I just came from checking on Sergio. He wanted me to make sure you kept up with your training. He doesn’t want you slacking off just because he’s not here to crack the whip,” she teases. I smile because it sounds like something he would say.

“How is he?” I ask, as we take our stances on the mats. “I heard he was in pretty bad shape.”

Asha lunges at me, gripping my wrist and pulling me forward. I reach for her wrist with my opposite hand, putting pressure where it’s needed, and force her release. It’s a simple move we’ve practiced a thousand times. One we usually warm up with because it’s the easiest and most common in a snatch-n-grab situation. Sergio made me watch thousands of YouTube videos about each escape method we trained on. He wanted me to see the same moves in various situations, observing the attack from multiple angles and not just as a victim in the situation. It helped me to read patterns of behaviors and heightened my expectations. It also helped to ingrain his rules for being aware of my environment.

“He’s doing fairly well. He’s refusing pain meds and giving the staff hell, but that’s nothing new.” Asha shrugs with a smile. “Someone bested him. I think it’s more about his bruised ego than his stab wound at this point.”

“A coward attacked him. He wasn’t bested,” I argue. “It’s not about ego. It’s about his need for vengeance. Sergio would accept defeat if he was bested in a fair fight.” I smile wickedly. “Only a coward would use chloroform and stab a man in the back.”

We run through several escape moves and evasive measures. My heart rate is pumping, and my muscles are aching in a good way. I gesture for a time out and reach for my water bottle. I finish my drink and as I’m setting the bottle back down, Asha attacks me from behind, placing me in a rear naked choke. My body reacts on muscle memory, dropping to my knees and maneuvering to step behind her legs to flip Asha and get myself out of the hold. Only as I step to the side, her hold loosens, and I feel a sharp prick in my neck.

What the hell?

Asha releases me completely, and I drop to the floor on my knees. My head suddenly feeling dizzy and my limbs getting heavier by the second.

“What the hell did you do to me?” I turn, watching as Asha’s face begins to blur in and out. The edges of my eyesight slowly closing into black.

“Just a little insurance. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get you out of here. If you’d been sitting at your desk, this would’ve been a challenge. Finding you in the gym, working out and so willing to push yourself.” She smiles maliciously. “You gave me the gift I needed to pull off my plans. Your accelerated heart rate is forcing the medication to take effect much faster than normal, which will make it easier to make our escape.” She looks at her watch. “Perfect timing, actually. Mr. Cusenza will be expecting us to arrive shortly.”

I want to ask her more questions. To keep her talking. But my brain is fuzzy. There’s a rushing sound of water in my ears, and before I know it, the blackness takes me under.