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CHAPTER

TWELVE

DENVER, FIVE YEARS AGO

Logan, Bobby, and the rest of the gang were on the bridge, city lights glimmering in the distant and the river black below. Two more vehicles pulled up behind them—more witnesses than Logan had anticipated.

The odds had just gotten worse.

As Logan and Bobby were hauled from the van, Logan positioned himself between Bobby and the others. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, mentally listening to the countdown clock ticking.

“Viper, this isn’t right,” Logan said. “We don’t turn on our own without proof.”

“The proof is right here.” Viper tapped his temple. “Kid’s been acting different. Asking questions. Making calls when he thinks no one’s watching.”

“That’s just because his sister?—”

“His sister,” Viper spat out the words. “The one who suddenly has enough money for fancy camera equipment? Gallery shows? Where’s that money really coming from, huh?”

Logan felt Bobby stiffen behind him.

“Leave her out of this,” Bobby growled. “Morgan earned everything she has.”

“Brave words for a dead man.” Knox practically cackled as he said the words.

Logan’s hand inched toward his concealed weapon. If he could create enough confusion, maybe Bobby could run.

It would blow his cover and end the investigation, but at least Bobby might survive.

Before Logan could move, Razor lunged forward, grabbed Bobby by the throat, and dragged him to the bridge railing.

“Wolf!” Bobby screamed, his arm stretching out to grab him.

Logan surged forward. But three Brotherhood members grabbed him and held him back.

He fought against them, his training momentarily forgotten in his desperation.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Viper, he’s not the informant!”

Something in his voice made Viper pause, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

In that moment of hesitation, Razor snarled, “I’m tired of waiting.”

Logan swallowed. Maybe he should confess. Take the blame.

Then they’d kill him.

And probably Bobby afterward, just for kicks.

He had to think of a better way.

In the blink of an eye, Viper shoved Bobby backward over the railing.

“No!” Logan’s roar echoed across the water as he broke free, rushing to the edge in time to see Bobby strike the dark surface thirty feet below.

Without thinking, he prepared to dive in after him.

But strong hands yanked him back.

“You jump in after a rat, you’re declaring yourself dead,” Knox warned, gun pressed to Logan’s temple.

Logan stood frozen, helpless rage coursing through him as he stared at the ripples spreading where Bobby had disappeared.

Logan continued to stare at the water.

There was no movement.

No swimming figure.

Just the indifferent flow of black water.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Grief crushed against his chest as the dark water below showed no mercy.

“Seems like Wolf here has some explaining to do,” Viper hissed, his expression unreadable. “Take his cut. He’s suspended until I decide whether he lives or dies.”

As they stripped the leather jacket from his shoulders, Logan remained silent, his eyes fixed on the river.

He’d failed.

Bobby was gone.

Somewhere in Alaska, Morgan had no idea her brother would never call her again.

His heart lodged in his throat at the thought.

The investigation would continue. More evidence would be gathered. Eventually, the Brotherhood would fall—Viper, Knox, and Razor would receive prison time for multiple counts of murder, including Bobby’s.

But none of that mattered now.

In the one moment when someone had truly needed him, Logan had been powerless.

The weight of his failure nearly destroyed him.