Page 82 of Thunder's Reckoning

Emilio stood nearest the wall, jacket still carrying the grit of the road. He didn’t flinch. He knew better.

“Tell me,” I said, wiping a crimson drop from my cuff, “what you’ve learned since.”

“She’s in Charleston,” he answered. “With the bikers. The Devil’s House MC. They’re protecting her—keeping her and the children under their roof. It isn’t hiding anymore. It’s a shield. They’ve put themselves between her and us.”

My mouth curved. “Of course they have. Outlaws always mistake theft for charity. They take what isn’t theirs, wrap it in leather and steel, and call it brotherhood.”

I walked to the window. Outside, the courtyard fire pits burned low, embers smoldering like eyes in the dark. The mark of the Flame was everywhere—carved into stone, stitched into banners, inked into flesh.

“She thinks,” I murmured, “that she can live another life. That she can carry what is mine into another man’s house, another man’s bed. That she can make the children forget who gave them breath.”

I turned, fixing my gaze on Emilio. “She has forgotten what happens to women who believe freedom is anything more than a lie.”

He hesitated, then said carefully, “There is… another option. A man close to them. Someone we can use.”

I stilled. “Use?”

“He already carries a secret. One he knows would kill him if it came out. Fear is the oldest chain. Pull it tight enough, he’ll move as we tell him. No one will see it for what it is.”

A slow smile spread across my face.

“Weak men are the easiest to bend,” I said. “They think silence will keep them safe, when really it only makes them mine.”

I lifted my glass again, swirling the last of the wine, watching the red catch the light.

“Let the bikers play at guardianship. Let them believe they’ve stolen from me. When they are comfortable, when they think she belongs to them…” I sipped, savoring it.

“…that is when I will take her back. And with her, everything they hold dear.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THAT NIGHT, Irolled into The Pit just as thegames were heatin’ up. Mystic was off, Horse was holdin’ the door, and the whole place throbbed with dice slammin’, chips clatterin’, and voices ridin’ high on whiskey and adrenaline. Sweat and smoke hung heavy, the kind of air you could choke on.

Normally I’d stop, check the tables, make sure the house was runnin’ clean. Not tonight. My head wasn’t in it. I cut straight to the office, boots poundin’ across the worn floor.

Door was cracked. Should’ve known better. Should’ve smelled the perfume seepin’ out before I stepped inside.

Leena.

She was sprawled out on my desk like it was her own damn stage. Naked, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey glintin’ by her hip. One hand on her tits, the other draggin’ down her thigh like she thought she was some goddess of sin.

“I been waitin’ for you,” she purred.

“Put your fuckin’ clothes on,” I snapped, pointin’ at the door. “And get the fuck out.”

Her smile widened, all teeth and poison. “Don’t play, Thunder. You think I don’t see it? That little girl got under your skin, and you’re tryin’ to prove somethin’. But you and me? We’re the same kind of dirty. She’s not built for you.”

I laughed once, biting. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she slid off the desk, slow on purpose, lettin’ the light play off every inch of her. “I know you,” she said, her voice sweet and mean all at once. “You don’t babysit broken dolls. You’ll get bored and need my kind of dirty.”

“Enough.” My voice cracked like a whip. “Stop beggin’. It’s pitiful.”

That grin faltered, slipped into somethin’ uglier. “I’ve been loyal to this club. To you. Years of givin’ everything, and you toss me aside for some charity case with two kids hangin’ off her skirts?”

I tilted my head, sneer curlin’ at my mouth. “Loyal? The only thing you’ve been loyal to is spreadin’ your legs where you thought it’d earn you somethin’. Hate to break it to you, Leena, but that ain’t loyalty, that’s just desperation in a short skirt. And right now? You’re about as useful as a flat tire.”

Her face twisted, but she stepped closer anyway, perfume hittin’ like a wall. She reached for me, hand skimming the patch on my cut. “I’ve kept your secrets, Thunder. I’ve keptthis club’ssecrets. Don’t pretend I don’t matter.”