Page 20 of Misery (Raiders of Valhalla MC: New Blood #7)

"It's not that simple—"

"It's exactly that simple. You love her?"

"Yes."

"Then tell her the truth. All of it. Let her decide if she can forgive you. That's what love is—giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to."

"She's dealing with enough—"

"She's dealing with lies. From you. From everyone.

You think that's easier than the truth?" He lights another cigarette.

"Let me tell you something about women, son.

They're stronger than we give them credit for.

They can handle the truth. It's the lies that break them.

The betrayal of trust. That's what leaves scars. "

Before I can answer, his phone rings.

He answers, face changing as he listens.

I can hear Rio's voice, fast and panicked.

"Understood. Bring them all to the club side.

" He hangs up. "That was Rio. Your woman's losing it.

Helle and Starla showed up at the bar, emotional as fuck.

Starla's got a head wound, blood everywhere. Gwen and Vail already stitched her up and wrapped it. Helle's trying to hold them both together. Rio wants to move them all to a safe house, but I don’t like the idea of taking them away from the club, or Emil and Saga’s place.

These are the two safest places for them. "

We head back inside where Runes is already coordinating.

The chapel's energy has shifted from hunt mode to protection mode.

"Where?" Runes asks.

"Rio suggested the safe house on Maple," someone offers.

"Too exposed," I counter. "Windows on all sides. Multiple entry points."

"Then where?"

"Emil's compound," Runes spits out. "It's still the safest place, even safer than the club. Biometric locks. Cameras. The dogs. One way in, one way out."

"All three women together?" Magnus questions. "That's a lot of emotion in one place. Lots of trauma."

"Better than spread out," Runes counters. "Easier to protect. Easier to control. Rio, you copy?"

Rio's voice comes through the speaker phone. "Yeah. But Elfe's bad, boss. Real bad. Talking about her dad being dead. About everyone lying to her. She's not handling this well. Keeps saying she should have never said those things to him. That her last words to him were cruel."

My chest tightens like someone's got their hands around my heart.

I should be with her, should be the one holding her together, but I'm here, failing to find her father while she drowns in guilt.

"Get them to Emil and Saga’s place," Runes orders. "We'll figure out our next moves from there."

"Copy that. Moving now."

The call ends.

Everyone starts talking at once. Strategies. Plans. Ideas that won't work because they're thinking like bikers, not like Thiago.

"He's going to make contact," I say, cutting through the noise. "Thiago. He'll reach out with demands."

"What kind of demands?" Tor asks.

"He wants Elfe. Everything else is just foreplay. The killing, the kidnapping, the games—it's all leading to her."

"Then maybe we give her to him," Dag suggests. "Trade straight up. Ivar for Elfe, or maybe act like we are and we can figure it out."

The room goes silent.

I'm moving before I think, knife in my hand, at Dag's throat.

The blade presses against his skin, not quite drawing blood but close enough he feels the promise. "Say that again," I whisper. "Give me a fuckin’ reason to go postal."

"Stand down!" Runes' voice cracks like a whip. "Both of you. Now."

I step back slowly, deliberately.

Dag rubs his throat, glaring.

There's fear in his eyes though. Good. He should be afraid.

"Nobody's giving anybody to anyone," Runes states firmly. "We don't trade innocents. Not how we operate. Not now, not ever."

"Then how the fuck do we get Ivar back?" Kraken asks, off the phone now. "If this psycho wants Elfe and we won't give her up?"

"We find leverage," Magnus says. "Something Thiago wants more than the girl."

"There's nothing he wants more than her," I say. "She's his obsession. His endgame. Everything else is just steps toward her. You don't understand—when we were kids, Thiago never did anything halfway. When he wanted something, he'd burn the world to get it."

"Then we find him and kill him," Rio suggests over speaker. He's still on the line, listening while he drives. "Simple. Clean."

"Nothing about Thiago is simple. He's smart.

Trained. Knows how I think because we learned together.

" I run my hands through my hair, frustration building.

"He's always three steps ahead because he knows what moves I'll make.

What tactics I'll use. We shared everything growing up—fighting styles, strategies, ways of thinking. "

"Then make different moves," Fenrir suggests. "Do what he doesn't expect."

"Like what?"

"Tell the truth. To everyone. Remove his leverage."

He's right. Fuck me, but he's right.

Thiago's power comes from secrets.

From knowing things others don't.

If everything's in the open, he loses that edge.

"Fine," I say. "You want truth? Here it is.

Thiago Cisneros and I grew up together. Best friends from age seven.

Did everything together. Learned to fight together.

To steal. To hurt people who deserved it and some who didn't. We were inseparable.

Blood brothers. Cut our palms when we were nine, mixed blood, swore we'd always have each other's backs. "

I pause, pull out another cigarette. "When we were seventeen, he supposedly died in Mexico.

But he didn't. He joined Los Coyotes, worked his way up, and came back here specifically for Elfe.

He's been watching her for over a year. Living in the apartment above hers at her old building.

Learning everything about her. Her schedule. Her habits. Her fears."

The room is silent. Processing.

"And you knew this?" Magnus asks.

"I figured it out recently. After the black roses. The way they were arranged. The specific type—he always had a thing for symbolism."

"And didn't tell anyone?"

"I thought I could handle it. Thought I could protect her and find him without involving everyone."

"Clearly fucking not," Dag mutters, still rubbing his throat.

"Enough," Runes cuts in. "What's done is done. Question is, how do we find him now?"

"He'll reach out," I say again. "He needs an audience. Always has. Needs people to see how clever he is. When we were kids, he'd set up elaborate pranks just so people would know he did it. This is the same, just deadlier."

As if on cue, Vanir's laptop pings. "Email. Unknown sender."

He opens it. A video file. We crowd around the screen.

Ivar appears on screen.

Tied to a chair. Blood dried on his face from a cut above his eye.

His lips are split, one eye swollen shut. But alive. Conscious. Breathing.

"Tell them," someone off-camera says. Thiago's voice. Still smooth. Still controlled.

"He wants..." Ivar coughs, spits blood that lands on his shirt. "He wants to meet. Tomorrow night. Midnight. The old church on Cemetery Road."

"Who does he want to meet?" Thiago prompts.

"Her. Elfe. Alone."

"And if she doesn't come?"

Ivar looks directly at the camera.

His one good eye filled with pain and resignation. "He says I'll die badly. Says he'll send pieces. Starting with fingers."

The video cuts out.

Everyone starts talking at once.

Plans and counterplans. Arguments about tactics.

But I barely hear them, I'm thinking about that church.

Another place from our childhood. Where we used to go to smoke cigarettes and talk about what we'd become. Where we planned our escapes from this life.

Now we're both killers. Both obsessed with the same woman. Both willing to die for her.

The difference is, I'm willing to die to save her.

Thiago's willing to kill everything she loves to have her.

"We're not sending her," I say, cutting through the arguments. "Not alone. Not at all."

"Then Ivar dies," Tor points out.

"Not if we get him first."

"How? We don't know where he is."

I think about the video.

The background. The lighting. Wood paneling on the walls. Water stain in the corner shaped like a bird. Something familiar...

"The motel," I say suddenly. "He's at that abandoned motel on 44. The Starlite. Room had the same wood paneling. Same water stain. Room 237—we used to crash there when we were drinking underage and didn’t want to come back home."

Vanir rewinds the video, studies it. Zooms in on the background. "Fuck, you're right. That's definitely the Starlite. Can see the old wallpaper seam."

"Then we go," Runes decides. "Now. Full force."

"He'll be expecting that," I warn. "Thiago knows I'd recognize the room. He wants us to come."

"Then what do you suggest?"

I think about what Fenrir said. Do what Thiago doesn't expect.

"I go alone. He wants to play games with me. Fine. But not with her as the prize."

"That's suicide," Kraken says. "He'll kill you the moment you show up."

"No. He won't. Not until he gets what he wants. He needs me alive to suffer. To watch him take her. That's the point."

"Or," Dad speaks up, "we do both. You go in the front, keep him talking. We come from behind. Classic distraction play."

It's not perfect. But it's something.

"Either way," I say, standing, "I need to see Elfe first. Need to..."

"Tell her the truth?" Fenrir suggests.

"Yeah. All of it."

"Then go. We'll prep for the motel assault. Meet us there in two hours."

I head for the door, stop when Runes calls my name.

"Oskar. Whatever happens, we don't let him have her. Understood?"

"Understood."

"And if it comes down to it? If we have to choose?"

I meet his eyes. "We save who we can."

But as I ride toward Emil’s place, toward Elfe and the truth I've been hiding, I know it's not that simple. Because if it comes down to her or everyone else, I'll choose her. Every time. Without hesitation.

Just like Thiago would.

We're more alike than I want to admit. Both shaped by the same violence. Same desperation. Same need to possess something beautiful in a world of ugly.

The difference is what we're willing to do for love.

He'll destroy everything to own her.

I'll destroy myself to keep her free.

Even if that means finally telling her the truth about the monster I've been all along.

About the watching. The lying. The fact that I've been as much her stalker as her protector.

The compound comes into view. Time to face what I've done.

Time for truth.

Even if it costs me everything.