Page 4

Dante

Left.

Right.

Left.

Left.

Five minutes.

Left.

Right.

Another left.

As we drove, I closed my eyes and mentally pictured the road. I knew this place like the back of my hand. All I had to do was remember these turnings, and I could get my bearings.

I had been bundled out of the back of the house and shoved into the boot of a car with my hands tied behind my back and a bag over my head.

As if I’d be able to see anything in the boot anyway, the stupid fucks.

I might not have been able to see, but what I could do was feel the way my body moved. Feel the rhythm I was pulled in as the car rounded corners or took sharp turns.

Doing this was second nature to me. I had been on a motorbike since I was old enough to walk. First on the back of my dad’s or grandads’, and then my own before I even grew fucking pubes. My body was finetuned to turn with the bends, to let the road guide me, rather than me guiding the bike.

Doing this, I had a vague idea where they were taking me.I just had to mentally visualise the road.

As we rounded another corner, this time to the right, it dawned on me where we had been going.

I had been able to recognise the route to Greasy. I had taken that journey so many times, I could do it in my sleep. Which meant we were on the motorway, and the turning to the city was after the five-minute stretch of straight driving .

As we turned left, I knew the city was where we were headed. It took me a moment to pull up a visual of the roads, especially as my head was fucking pounding and my back felt as though it was on fire. But that last right turning confirmed it.

I had been here only a few days earlier, doing what I thought would ensure peace for Rachel. I didn’t realise it would cause my own ambush.

Macbeth, you stupid, jealous fuck!

This didn’t just involve the Rough Riders. Macbeth had aligned himself with the worst scum in the world. He hadn't just betrayed me and his entire club. He had betrayed Rachel, and she was an innocent in all of this.

Rachel had never done a thing to harm him – in fact, there were many occasions where she had told me to shut up when I tried goading him into an argument. Foolish though it was, she had never been given a reason to suspect he was anything but truthful.

Arrogant, spiteful, and annoying as all hell. But he had always been honest with her. Gaining her trust. Her confidence.

And now he had sold her out to those wanting to cause nothing but harm.

However, knowing where we were heading to gave me a unique advantage that they'd never see coming. And the cunts would never live long enough to regret the day they decided to cross the Devil's Disciples.

More importantly, they would be sent to hell screaming so loud their fucking ancestors would be wincing in pain for even thinking of bringing my woman into this.