Page 7

Dante

Time flew by, and before I knew it, the car was drawing to a stop.

Fuck.

I had wanted the journey to last longer - even though I knew it wasn't likely.

I had a good idea of where we were headed and who I was with, so I knew how long this was going to take.

But still, my head was fucking pounding, my back felt like it was on fire, and just ten more minutes would have made the world of difference for what was to come.

My thoughts went to Rachel and Bee.

The alarm would have been raised, so Bee would be completely safe. My brothers would have ensured she was taken to church, and everyone associated with the Devil's Disciples would protect her with their lives. I had absolutely zero doubts about that.

But would Rachel be there?

The last thing I had said to her was telling her to fuck off and leave with her mother. For once, I seriously hoped she had put her stubborn streak to good use and ignored everything I said to her. Because the alternative was unthinkable.

Rachel being on her own, meant she was vulnerable.

She might not realise it, but she needed us.

We had already received threats on her life once word got out that she was my old lady – her denials were pointless.

The world saw her as my old lady, and my enemies wanted to use her to exact revenge.

If they saw her on her own… it made me feel fucking feral to even entertain it for a second.

They wouldn’t hesitate to brutally torture her and send me the evidence.

I had to hold on to the hope that she stayed exactly where I had left her.

But that mother of hers was a battleaxe. If she saw Rachel upset, she would pounce on the opportunity to drag her out of the club and install her back into the boring, beige life she loved so much.

That would be her biggest fucking mistake, because our enemies wouldn’t be satisfied simply burning her house down.

She thought I was evil, and I actually cared about her daughter. God help her if she ever came face to face with someone who wanted to cause hurt.

Poor Rachel. She was oblivious to the danger she was actually in.

Macbeth might have got his own way and managed to betray me, but this had less to do with me, and everything to do with Rachel.

Mac was lucky that I had met Rachel, otherwise these cunts couldn't have given two fucks about his hurt feelings and his need to punish his younger brother.

But they cared very much about getting revenge on the one woman they thought had done them wrong.

I heard voices as the car doors opened; the sound growing louder as they made their way to the back of the car and opened up the boot.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” one of the men laughed, pulling the sack off my head, seizing me by the hair and hauling me out of the boot.

“What sort of self-respecting man pulls another man's hair?” I muttered in his general direction once I was on my feet - I could only make out blurs behind the sack they had shoved over my head. “I'm flattered, man, but I have a lady at home. I could do without you being frisky with me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed in response and shoved me forward, his hand on my back feeling like a goddamn nuclear bomb with the pain it sent exploding through me.

I gritted my teeth and remembered why I had done this.

I needed to keep the club safe. Those fuckers had almost smashed my head off my shoulders with that metal pole. It was better to leave and plan victory at a later date, than fall dead there and then and risk them going after the rest of the club.

This wasn't a defeat.

It was a respite.

I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I focused all my strength on walking forward without limping. I wouldn't let these cunts see any sign of weakness.

I could hear the music in the background, growing louder with every step we took forward. That cemented my suspicions. I had already been more or less certain about where we were, but hearing the music - more specifically, the type of music being played - made it clear as day for me.

Macbeth, I will kill you with my bare fucking hands.