Page 46 of Riding the Line (Steel Saints MC #1)

Dalton had been frozen beside me, but now he muttered, “You were family.” The look in his eyes was a blend of devastation and wrath. At some point, Luca had woken up and the DiAngelo brothers were watching the whole thing with a sadistic glee.

“I did what I had to do for the club,” Silas spat. “Your mother would’ve torn everything apart. No way was she going to let the DiAngelos near us. I couldn’t let that opportunity, all that money, go to waste. I did what I had to do.”

“Our father was your best friend! He called you his brother, you bastard.”

“He was weak, and so was she. He saved me from having to kill him too when his heart gave out. You two were fucking children—it should’ve been me put in charge.”

I took a glass paperweight off the desk and threw it at the wall next to his head. Silas flinched but said, “I watched as you struggled to do what was necessary. It was like trying to watch a dog learn to bite. Pathetic. It should’ve been me!”

Suddenly, it clicked in my head, and I knew the words were true before they even left my lips. “It was you. That night in the warehouse. That bad intel. You set us up.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Couldn’t let your ass die though—had to have someone who could control your brother. You had to give me the control. And you did. You laid everything in my lap. Pathetic. But exactly what I needed to happen.”

“You saved my life just so you could take everything.” My hand twitched—I wanted so badly to draw my gun and shoot that traitor in the head.

For me.

For my dad.

For my sweet mother, who’d never done a cruel thing in her life.

Silas took everything from us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jackson take a step closer, his eyes like stone.

Dalton seemed lost to the pain. It took everything in me not to end it, but I had a woman waiting for me back home, and that body cam was still recording.

If I killed him, my head was going to roll just like theirs.

I turned to head for the door and said to Jackson, “I’ve heard enough. Shut them up.”

Out in the hallway, I stood with Dalton and dialed the number I had memorized. While the phone rang, I asked him, “You good?”

His answering laugh was dry and humorless. “Not even fucking remotely. I’ll be better when we get back to her. Don’t ask me any more dumb shit until she’s in my arms.”

Fair enough. A voice finally sounded on the other end of the phone—some detective on the case whose name I hadn’t bothered memorizing.

“I’m fixing to make your day. No names, no questions.

And don’t even bother trying to trace the call.

You’ll find two high-ranking members of the DiAngelo family restrained inside a house at the coordinates I’m sending.

Along with several of their goons, all restrained but, for the most part, unharmed.

You’ll also find physical evidence inside to make your case airtight, including body cam footage that covers every inch of what my people found inside.

There were children in the holding cells in the basement.

They’re safe, and I’ll make sure they’re cared for.

That’s all you need to know. You’re welcome. ”

I disconnected the call mid-question, and looked at the time before dropping the phone on the floor and stomping on it.

Jackson joined us in the hallway, and the three of us made our way out of that hellhole. A team would come through after we left and remove any evidence of us having been there.

Diego could sense something was wrong the second we got back to the van. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “Nothing that affects what happened here today. Just… let’s get home.

Then debrief.” Diego glanced at Jackson, who shook his head.

A subtle sign not to press me. Dalton sat with his head pressed against the side of the van, face to the roof and eyes closed.

I climbed in across from and, a few minutes later, we were headed home.

*

I surveyed the scene in front of me. Three vans had pulled up about thirty minutes ago, and my heart bottomed out when the doors opened to reveal children inside.

All wrapped in soft blankets, all looking like they were seeing the light of day for the first time in years.

The light of hope. Medics were waiting. Volunteers too.

People who didn’t ask questions. They approached the vans, and coaxed the kids out with steady hands and warm hearts.

I wasn’t a crier, but I couldn’t deny the tears in my eyes.

My boys did this—they saved these kids. If that wasn’t enough to make a girl fall in love, then I don’t know what would.

I was so distracted watching the team of volunteers take care of the survivors that I almost missed Mac and Dalton’s van pulling in.

A second later, Holly joined me. Maria had already gone home to the kids, but I had sent her a text when the other vans got here so she was already on her way.

Jackson got out first, and Holly immediately headed towards him.

I saw her pause, and then she was reaching for him, her eyes scanning his face before pressing a kiss to his lips and resting her forehead against his.

His hands were trembling as they came to rest on her back, probably from the adrenaline.

My heart was in my chest. I had never been the one waiting at home before.

I was the one charging in, saving the day.

This whole time had been about forcing myself to breathe, to stay calm.

I zoned in on the sight of the van door opening.

Mac stepped out, and it felt like my whole world exhaled a sigh of relief.

I covered the distance between us as quickly as I could without running.

My eyes scanned every inch of him. He looked tired—no, beyond tired.

Blood on his sleeve, dirty jeans, and his walls were up—his face hard, and almost unreadable.

But he was home. Alive. For the moment, that was all I cared about.

He waited for me to get to him, and I threw my arms around him before he could even say a word. He didn’t resist, his arms coming around me and holding me in a way he never had before. Like he needed to know I was there. A drowning man, and I was his lighthouse.

“You’re okay,” I whispered, “you’re okay.”

I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.

When I leaned back to look at him, I could see a million feelings in those blue eyes.

But mostly I saw pain. Not the kind that would come from a right hook or stray bullet like I feared.

No, this was the deep emotional pain that came from the soul. He definitely wasn’t okay.

Dalton climbed out of the van next, a stiffness to him that made his usual fluid movements almost jerky. His nose was broken, but other than that, he was fine. Physically. His jaw was locked, and when his eyes met mine, they were far away despite the small smile he tried and failed to give me.

“Dalton—” I reached for him but, to my surprise, he stepped back. Away from me.

“Not now, Vixen. I need a minute.”

I felt like a rug had been pulled from underneath me. He turned and headed back to the clubhouse, shoulders rigid. As he disappeared inside, Maria’s car pulled up and she ran out almost before it was parked. Diego caught her in his arms. There was tension in him, too.

Something was wrong. Not just mission-went-sideways wrong. Deeper. Really, really wrong. I turned back to Mac, questions on my lips, but he pulled away. Stepping around me, he raised his voice for everyone to hear and said, “I need to talk to everyone. Inside.”

I reached for him again. “Baby? What happened?” He looked down at me and, for a second, his mask fell away, and I saw the storm in those blue eyes. The grief. The betrayal. The pain.

Holly and Jackson came to stand next to me as I watched one of the men I loved head inside.

The pair were hand in hand, but Holly reached for me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

Maria and Diego were as close as two people could get and still walk in a straight line.

We followed them inside, and found everyone in the garage heading into the kitchen.

Pretty much every member of the club crammed into the room.

Dalton was nowhere to be seen, but Mac leaned against the counter, waiting for everyone to get situated. After the room quieted down, he looked up from the drink he was sipping. His eyes met mine before scanning the room.

You could’ve heard a pin drop when he finally said, “I know many of you were fond of my mother. Pretty much all of you, really. Which is why I feel you deserve to know the truth.” He paused, seeming to gather some inner strength. “Silas Greyson killed her. He gunned her down in the streets.”

I tried not to react, not visibly. I had never met the woman.

Never seen the love she had for this club and everyone in it.

Never got to witness the relationship she had with her sons.

To me, she was a story. A cherished memory, wrapped in hurt.

But for them, for Mac and Dalton, she had once been everything to them.

I never looked away from him, barely registering the gasps and whispers and looks of horror.

Maria started to cry, while Holly looked ready to burn everything to the ground.

Mac continued, “Silas had been planning to work with the DiAngelos before my dad died. My mother found out and, knowing she would expose him, he…” Mac swallowed, his eyes flicking to mine again and then away. “He said he pulled the trigger himself.”

Holly made a sound of strangled rage, and Jackson placed his hand on the back of her neck as if to calm her.

Maria sank into Diego, who held her close.

I watched Mac struggle to stay standing on the foundation of everything he thought he knew as it crumbled beneath him.

I hadn’t liked Silas from the moment I met him.

Now, I had never loathed a man more violently.

The room came alive with whispers, and Mac let it go on for a moment before saying, “There’s more. The ambush… the one that nearly killed me. That was Silas, too. He fed us the bad intel.”

Several of the guys stood up at that, and the whispers turned to shouts. I had a feeling that if Silas were to magically walk in right then, he wouldn’t last a second. And part of me wished he would.

One question sounded above the rest. “Why? Why would he do that?”

Mac took a sip of his drink, taking his time swallowing. “He said I was in the way. That I had to be sidelined so he could take over the club. And when he pulled me out, saved my life… he did it so I would owe him. So I would give him what he wanted—the club.”

His words were briefly met with silence, and then Patrick—one of Silas’ buddies—stood up and said, “And we’re just supposed to believe you?”

In one quick, smooth motion, Mac threw his drink at Patrick’s head. The man dodged it, and the glass shattered on the wall behind him. Before a fight could start, Mac waded through the mess of people and stood in front of Patrick. “Get the fuck out of my club.”

Patrick, who looked about two seconds away from pissing himself, was stupid enough to say, “It’s not your club. You’re not the pres, and you can’t just kick me out.”

Mac never looked away, and Jackson rose to his feet. “I motion for an emergency club meeting. All members present to vote on presidency and this son of a bitch’s patch.”

Diego didn’t move, but said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I second that motion.”

Mac turned away from Patrick, and Jackson moved to stand next to his friend. “All those in favor of Maverick Mills for presidency, say aye—those not in favor, say nay.”

A resounding “aye” filled the room.

“All those in favor of every bastard who said nay to get the fuck out and not come back, say aye.”

An even louder “aye” rang out, this time accompanied by cheering.

For a moment, pride filled my chest until I remembered who I really was.

But I pushed that all aside to watch Mac take the mantle he had always been meant to have.

Jackson, Diego, Rodney, and several others I had grown fond of began pushing Silas’ supporters out the door—both literally and figuratively.

It should’ve been a great victory, but the man who should’ve looked like he was on top of the world just appeared lost. I stood, and he looked over at me as I made my way through the crowd.

He blamed himself for everything. I could see it on his face, and it broke my heart. “Mac, baby,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear, placing a hand on his arm and willing him to open up to me. “This is not your fault.”

That muscle in his jaw flexed like it did when he was upset. “I handed him everything, Vixen.”

“You trusted a man who was your father’s best friend. Someone you once called family. That’s not weakness—that’s not your fault. That’s just being human. ”

“He killed her. He might as well have killed my father. He almost killed me. He destroyed everything this club stood for. You should’ve seen the look on Dalton’s face. I didn’t stop him.”

“No,” I said, my voice firm but gentle, “he did this, not you. Your brother knows that. And your parents wouldn’t blame you either, I just know it.

You can’t punish yourself for not seeing through him sooner.

You did what you could as soon as you realized what was going on. You rescued all those people.”

He didn’t answer, but I could see him slowly start to accept what I was saying. The tightness was leaving his eyes, and when he looked at me, I knew he was going to be okay. Now for the other Mills brother…

“Where’s Dalton?”

Mac gestured with his chin towards the back of the clubhouse, where their rooms were. “Processing.”

“I should go to him.”

“He needs you more than he knows, gorgeous. We both do.” He kissed me and then pushed me gently towards the door. “Go.”