Page 24

Sypher

July 23, 2024, apartment in New York City,

I stood watching the clock as the seconds ticked down, and the instant the clock struck midnight, I picked up my phone and made a fucking call.

“You shouldn’t be calling me, kid.”

“Don’t give a fuck,” I growled. “Where are you?”

He chuckled. “Like I have to tell you that.”

“Did Pippen leave the clubhouse?”

“Yep, but not before shit went down there today. Man named Silas Sharp took him away. Said he was the intern’s brother. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Pippen doesn’t have a fucking brother,” I said, sliding into my chair, typing fast on my computer to bring up everything I could on the man named Silas Sharp. It didn’t take me long to find him and his partners.

All products of the Trick Pony.

Of course they were.

“You sure about that? Because that’s what the intern said.”

“He doesn’t have a fucking brother,” I reiterated as my eyes quickly scanned the documents, memorizing them instantly. When I was done, I fucking knew everything there was to know about Silas Sharp and more importantly, his association with Mia.

Fuck, Reaper was going to have a fucking field day with that one, but that was a problem for another day.

Right now, I needed to find Dante.

“What else can you tell me?”

“Three men showed up out of the blue: Crispin Sinclair, Rowen Shay, and the intern’s brother, Silas Sharp. Intern looked shocked to see them. Tried to get away from them before Montana handed the intern over to him.”

FUCK!

Yeah, I didn’t need anyone to tell me who those fuckers were.

I already knew.

“Do you know where he’s at?”

“Looking at him right now. Gotta say, the intern doesn’t look too good.”

“You feel like having some fun?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“A little mayhem, possibly some gunfire, definitely a beat down or three.”

“Had me at mayhem, kid. I’ll see ya when you get here.”

I wasted no time hailing a cab, and when the cab pulled up in front of the exclusive BDSM club, the Playground, formerly owned by two brothers in the Soulless Sinners’ Motorcycle Club and recently purchased by Crispin Sinclair, I quickly paid my fare and got out. The man was notorious in the underworld. More importantly, I already fucking knew what to expect from the man. I’d already seen what his reach could do.

Not that I gave a fuck.

All I knew was that Dante was in that fucking club somewhere and I wasn’t fucking leaving without him. It didn’t take me long to locate him. Thanks to his own fucking tech and the tracking device I slipped into his ass the night he returned to me, I would always know where Dante was.

Did I feel guilty about LoJacking my boyfriend?

Fuck no, I did not. I needed him safe, and with all the pots I had my hand in, he could easily become a target, a way to bring me to heel, and that was something I refused to allow. So yeah, I fucking stuck a tracker up his ass, then fucked his ass raw that night.

Checking the gun at my back, I entered the club. With a purposeful stride, I entered the dimly lit club, my gaze sweeping across the smoky interior in a determined search for any indication of Dante’s presence. With the pulsating music and flashing lights providing a vibrant atmosphere, the tension that coiled tightly within my stomach remained stubbornly unaffected and unyielding. The air hung thick with the smell of stale alcohol and desperation. I knew Dante was here, somewhere in this fetid den of vice, and I was determined to get him out.

Pushing my way through the tightly packed masses of celebrating people, I noticed a hush falling over one section of the room, a curious contrast to the surrounding merriment. There, concealed within the darkness, stood a figure whose menacing presence filled the shadows with an unsettling atmosphere. Having seen his photographs, I recognized the man, and based on my research, it appeared he was the most dangerous of the three, a man notorious for his ruthless and unforgiving character. With a cold, unyielding stare, he planted himself directly in my path, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

“Turn back now, kid,” the man named Rowen Shay growled, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. “You have no business here.”

“Now, Rowen, is that any way to greet our visitor?” the man of the fucking hour, Crispin motherfucking Sinclair in the flesh, calmly said, sitting in the booth behind his henchman. Next to him sat Dante, who refused to look up at me, while Sinclair held the end of a leash that was wrapped around Dante’s neck.

For that alone, I was going to kill that motherfucker.

On the other side of Dante sat Silas Sharp, nursing a bottle of expensive whiskey.

A wave of adrenaline washed over me, my heart pounding like a war drum, but I stood my ground. “I’m here for Dante. Let him go, and I’ll leave quietly.”

The man’s lip curled into a sneer. “Dante isn’t going anywhere. Not going to tell you again. Leave. Now.”

Ignoring the fucker, I looked at Sinclair.

“You sure you want it this way?”

“And what way is that, Mr. Franks? Young Dante belongs to my family. I only just recovered him.”

“He’s mine.”

“Well, that still remains to be seen.” Sinclair smirked, then slowly taunted, pulling on the leash attached to the collar around Dante’s neck, who shrank deeper into the booth. “But if you want him, then by all means come get him.”

Every muscle in my body tightened, my fists clenched into tight fists, and a feeling of anticipation washed over me as I braced myself for what I knew was coming. As the confrontation unfolded, the club’s patrons, who had been murmuring amongst themselves, fell into a tense and expectant silence, their attention completely captivated by the scene before them.

With a step forward, Rowen Shay’s eyes gleamed with malicious intent, a dark and sinister purpose clearly evident in his expression and hinting at the evil plans he had in mind.

Fuck, this was going to hurt, but I refused to budge.

I sent up a quick prayer that when the coroner carted my dead body out of this fucking place, my brothers would rain down a hellfire the likes of this city had never seen.

“Fuck it. Only live once, right?” I stated, my voice steady while adrenaline surged through my veins as I quickly turned, extending my leg, kicking the side of the motherfucker’s face, knocking him to the ground.

Not wasting time, I jumped on the fucker, punching his face with a power I didn’t realize I had. I didn’t give up because I knew if I failed to win, I would never see Dante again. A swift punch to my kidneys had me grimacing as the fucker bucked me off him, rolling to his feet.

“Alright, kid.” Rowen smirked, wiping his bloody lip with the thumb from his left hand. “Let’s play.”

The next thing I felt was a swift kick of his boot to my ribs, knocking my lungs into my spine.

Spitting up blood, I stumbled to my feet, refusing to back down.

The second I was on my feet, Rowen jabbed, hitting me in the face, breaking my nose.

“FUCK!” I roared, grabbing my nose, before quickly setting the break.

“Say when.” Rowen taunted.

My determination ignited a surge of strength within me, propelling my arm back as I landed a hard punch that sent him reeling. When he turned to look at me, I responded with a triumphant grin, showing a look of satisfaction.

“Yeah, fucker, you’re not the only one who knows how to fucking hit.”

With a vicious growl, Rowen launched his attack, yet my grit remained steadfast and unwavering, refusing to yield to his assault. Relentlessly, we fought, the passage of time unnoticed amidst the brutality, both bloody and bruised, but neither willing to surrender. My resolve was finite, and so was his. I had no intention of leaving without Dante, and he was steadfast in his resolve to ensure that I did not. Mustering every ounce of remaining strength, I managed to wrap my arms securely around Rowen’s neck in a final, desperate embrace. I tightened my grip, arched my back, and pulled him back with all my strength, strangling him until the cold steel of a gun pressed against my head.

Refusing to let go, I heard, “Nuh-uh, motherfucker. This is between them.”

I looked up, my gaze fell upon Payne, who stood directly behind Silas Sharp, a gun pressed menacingly against the back of Sharp’s head.

Crispin Sinclair sighed deeply and rose to his feet, muttering the word “enough” while simultaneously buttoning his suit jacket. “Mr. Franks, you have won Dante. Now, if you would, please release my associate.”

Having shoved the man away, Rowen gasped, his breath coming in ragged, short bursts while he struggled to regain his composure. With my adrenaline pumping and the faces of the onlookers blurring in my vision as I glanced around the room, I saw Dante running to my side.

Seeing the collar still around his neck, I retrieved my switchblade and gave it to Payne, who then proceeded to cut the bothersome leather from his neck. Glaring at Crispin Sinclair, I felt Dante’s strong arms around me as he helped me to my feet, his body offering a supportive embrace.

“He’s mine. Stay the fuck away from him.”

Sinclair simply nodded in silent acknowledgment, as Silas carefully helped Rowen to his feet, the two of them trailing behind Sinclair’s steady gait.

“Jesus fuck, Sypher.” Payne grinned, handing me back my switchblade. “Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that?”

“Three older brothers and a clubhouse full of angry brothers.”

“Thank you for coming for me,” Dante whispered.

Fixing my gaze on the man whose actions would demand considerable explanation when we returned home, I reached out, grabbed the back of his neck, and planted a forceful, public kiss squarely on his lips.