Page 2

HAVEN

My heart races uncontrollably, my eyes darting to my cell, debating whether or not to follow instructions.

I’ve never been the type of woman to do as she’s told.

I’m a lone wolf.

Free as a bird.

But in this case, hearing Livvy’s distressed voice on the other end of that phone line and this jackass telling me not to involve the club, I think this is the one time I need to play by the rules.

Generally, it’s my life in the balance—but this is Livvy—so I can’t go rogue on this one.

She means too much.

To so many people.

This responsibility is too big for me to fuck this up.

So, if this cocksucker wants me to come alone, alone it shall be.

Well, me and my damn chicken.

The abandoned Vernon Meat Packing Facility looms ahead of me like some rejected set piece from a horror movie. Rusted metal and broken windows catch the dim streetlights, creating dancing shadows that would probably creep normal people the hell out.

But I’m far from normal.

I park my truck a block away, grabbing one of the buckets of chicken. If I’m walking into a trap, I’m at least going to be well-fed doing it. Plus, nothing says ‘I don’t take your threats seriously’ quite like showing up to a hostage situation with dinner. Though my stomach is in knots thinking about what condition I might find Livvy in, I force myself to maintain the facade.

The facility’s chain-link fence has a convenient person-size hole cut into it. How thoughtful of them to prep for my arrival. As I slip through, juggling my bucket of chicken, my boots crunch on broken glass and gravel. The sound echoes off the corroded walls of what used to be a thriving facility.

Real subtle, Haven.

The three-story concrete structure looms ahead. Its shattered windows, with nothing but darkness behind them, stare down at me like an ominous warning. One telling my training that shit is about to get very real. Sheets of rusty metal hang loose in places, creaking softly in the breeze, only adding to the impending sense of doom invading my body.

The heavy steel door ahead is propped open with a rusted pipe, revealing a pitch-black entrance. I pause at the threshold, taking one last deep breath of fresh air. I roll my shoulders, letting out any anxiety I have as Haven, then flick my internal switch, stepping inside as Blue Jay—a smart-mouthed yet lethal assassin.

The temperature drops instantly, raising goose bumps along my arms. My eyes slowly adjust when I move deeper into the shadows, the outside light fading behind me with each careful, stealthy step.

Inside, it smells like decade-old death and tetanus waiting to happen. I navigate around ancient machinery, casually munching on a drumstick. Even though my mind is hyper-focused on the task at hand, the sassy part of me is switched on right now.

Whoever this is, they’re certainly in for a mouthful, and it won’t be of chicken.

Continuing through, I take in everything around me. Meat hooks hang from ceiling tracks, swaying slightly in the stale air. My eyes shift to the concrete beneath them, where obvious pools of dried blood have been left as if those stains are the celebration of a job well done. The color variations tell me some are much fresher than others.

Each one makes my mind flash to what they might have done to Livvy.

Then to her daughter, Poppy, and how she will react if something were to happen to her mother.

Then to Alpha.

Livvy may be his ex-wife, but there’s still love between them that will never fade because of Poppy and everything they went through to get her back.

I may be a new addition to their family, but I adore Livvy. Don’t ask me how, but the four of us just work.

If I am the reason she doesn’t come home to them—

Focus, Haven.

She needs you clear-headed to get through this.

Are these things still running?

The steady hum of industrial freezers provides background noise, masking my footsteps as I press forward. The electricity bill must be a bitch. A copper taste floods my mouth that has nothing to do with the chicken, the air now thick with the metallic scent of blood.

Fresh blood.

A door creaks somewhere to my left, and instantly, my sassiness is brought to the forefront.

“You know…” I call out, tossing my chicken bone aside casually, “… if you wanted to have dinner with me, you coulda just asked. Though, I gotta say, your choice of restaurant leaves something to be desired. You could have set the mood a little. I’m all for dark and mysterious, but the vibe check of this place is not getting my juices flowing . If you know what I mean?”

Two figures step out from the darker corners, weapons already locked on me. Their movements are rigid, precise, practiced, making it obvious they’re guards. But it’s the dead-eyed stare, the way they gesture like I’m nothing but cargo, that really seals it.

I raise my chicken leg in a lazy toast and smile sweetly at the both of them. “Sooo, we’re sticking with the ominous, dark vibes then?”

They don’t answer, don’t even blink, just point their guns toward the hall, all business and zero personality. One of them takes a step closer, giving me a hefty shove, not hard enough to knock me off balance—but enough to make his point.

“Oh, honey, you know I like it rough.” I giggle, batting my lashes like I’m flirting instead of being frog-marched at gunpoint.

“Shut up and keep moving,” he growls, voice like gravel, all bite, and no patience.

I give him a mocking little bow, then roll my eyes as I start walking as slow as I damn well please. “You seem hangry. Do you want some?” I offer, holding up the chicken leg again like I’m being generous. He curls his lip, clearly offended I’m even speaking. “So, that’s a hard no, then?” I shrug like I couldn’t care less while he looks at me like he seriously wants to stab me in the eye. “Your loss. More for me.” I take another bite, savoring it to spite him, and let them lead me deeper into the facility, past processing rooms, and storage areas. My heart pounds harder with every step, but I keep my expression bored and my eyes sharp, clocking every exit.

The freezer hum grows louder until we reach what must have been the main processing floor. The smell of old blood and rust is more pungent here. But there’s something else—something fresher. My nostrils flare at the unmistakable scent of copper, making my stomach roll.

Recent blood.

A lot of it.

The guards lead me through a set of double doors, and the first thing I notice is the metal table in the center of the room. Industrial lights cast harsh shadows across the steel surface, and I make out the silhouette of someone strapped down on the cold steel.

My chest tightens as I recognize those normally perfect blonde waves, even matted and drenched in blood.

No, no, no.

“Oh fuck,” I whisper under my breath, my carefully maintained mask cracking for a millisecond.

My chest tightens, my nostrils flare, and every fucking instinct inside me is screaming at me to run to her.

But I can’t.

I’ve got to keep the facade going.

Livvy’s face is bruised and swollen, one eye is completely shut, the other glazed with pain. Her breathing comes in short, wet gasps that tell me she must have broken some ribs. Her scrubs are torn and bloody, showing deep cuts to the skin beneath, and her legs…

Jesus Christ, her legs are a mess of cuts and harsh burns. I can’t even tell by what.

All I know is Livvy is in serious trouble right now.

This isn’t just torture—someone’s sending a clear message.

But I have no idea who.

But I’m also not about to drop my guard and play innocent.

Forcing myself to take another bite of chicken, I clamp my teeth against the fury clawing its way up my throat, hot and volatile, ready to detonate.

I refuse to crack.

Not now.

So, I swallow the bite—along with my rage—and keep up my bravado. “I see the service here is shit too,” I quip, keeping my voice steady. “Your hostess looks like she could use a break.”

Livvy’s good eye finds mine, a flash of relief washing over her before she manages to whisper, “Y-you s-shouldn’t have c-come.”

“Shut your damn mouth,” one of the guards snaps, backhanding Livvy across the face.

She whimpers with the impact of the strike, her head instantly snapping to the side. The chicken bucket crumples beneath the strength of my grip. But I keep my anger tapped to see how this plays out.

I have to.

Suddenly, the lights flood the area, nearly blinding me. My eyes squint, adjusting to the bright white shining down over the vast space like a beacon, sending the second-story level into darkness above us.

The thumping of slow, heavy footsteps from the walkway above gives this whole thing an ominous undertone while whoever this is remains in the dark above us.

Hidden.

Like a predator.

The lights glare down, blinding me from being able to see him, but those same heavy footsteps begin to descend a metal staircase, each step echoing dramatically through the space.

The anticipation of who this asshole is eats at me.

My training tells me to rush forward.

To attack.

To protect Livvy in this moment, but I need intel.

Who the fuck is he?

Why does he want to hurt the club?

Using every ounce of strength I have, I restrain myself, simply watching as his legs come into full view, and I flair my nostrils, anxious for him to show himself. But he stalls on the step, clearing his throat. “I apologize for the theatrics,” he announces from above. Oh great, here comes the ‘dramatic reveal.’ “But some moments deserve an entrance with flair.”

I snort, dropping my mangled chicken bucket on a nearby table with an annoyed thud. “Let me guess, you’re the manager here? I’d like to speak to you about your establishment’s health code violations. And maybe about how you treat your staff. I totally understand if Livvy fucked up, but brutality in the workforce is kind of a no-no.” My eyes flick to her, silently promising Livvy I’m getting her the fuck out of here.

He lets out an unamused chuckle as he continues his slow, cinematic descent. Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, he comes into view, rolling up the sleeve of his seventies-inspired silk shirt as if he is trying to make himself look tough. Though that shirt, teamed with his thick mustache and slight beard, only makes him look like a knockoff from the television series Narcos .

He may prove me wrong, but from first impressions, this guy, whoever he is, doesn’t grab me as the Pablo Escobar type.

He scans me up and down, a hint of a smirk crossing his features as he takes the final step from the staircase, rolling up his other sleeve. “Funny you talk about brutality in the workforce, it’s kind of my thing,” he states, stalking toward me. I don’t move, just keep my eyes on him as he begins to circle around me menacingly, though, his bullshit doesn’t faze me.

Not one little bit.

But I suspect he’s hoping it will.

As he makes his way back around to make eye contact with me, I shrug. “Well, that’s all well and good, but my chicken’s getting cold, and we’re wasting time with all this crypticness when you can just say whatever it is you want to fucking say, then I can be on my way with my food. Bingo, bango, bongo, everyone’s happy, and I get fed. Seems like a good deal to me. So, you wanna maybe stop showboating and get to the point where you tell me who the fuck you are and what the hell you want?”

A dark smile crosses his face as he stalks around me like a predator sizing up its prey. “You Americans, always so impatient, always so… disrespectful. You think you can march into someone’s territory, murder their family, destroy everything they’ve built, and there won’t be consequences?”

His voice drops to a menacing whisper. “My uncle spent decades building an empire. Blood. Sweat. Countless sacrifices. We ruled these streets with honor, with tradition. ” He slams his hand on the metal table beside Livvy, making her whimper.

My hands ball into fists as he continues his rant, “And you and your pathetic little motorcycle club thought you could just wipe us out? That there wouldn’t be anyone left to make you pay?” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. “Oh no, mi amor . The Rojas name will not die so easily.”

Swallowing hard, my eyes shift to Livvy, now clearly seeing the terror in hers.

Evidently, we didn’t take out everyone from The Rojas Cartel the day we attacked.

Fuck!

The same Cartel who told Livvy and Alpha they killed Poppy, but they actually took her into The Nest.

The same Cartel who trained me as an assassin, and I unknowingly was training Poppy.

We took down The Nest.

We took down the Cartel.

So why the fuck is a Rojas Cartel member standing in front of me right now when they’re all supposed to be dead?

His footsteps echo through the room as he circles me again, his shoulders squared, chin lifted with pride. “I was groomed from childhood to protect our legacy. While you were destroying my family, I was gathering our remaining soldiers, rebuilding our strength in the shadows. And now…” He spreads his arms wide, theatrical, which I am quickly learning seems to be his style. “Now, the student becomes the master. I am Javier Rojas. Nephew of Rico Rojas, and I will restore our Cartel to its former glory. Starting with making an example of everyone Alpha holds dear.”

Inhaling deeply, I let out a small scoff and then begin a slow, mocking clap. “Wow,” I deadpan, stepping slightly closer to Livvy’s table. “That’s super dramatic. Did you rehearse that speech in the mirror? Practice your villainous walk down those stairs a few times for added effect?”

His eye twitches. “You mock what you don’t understand. While you and your little club were celebrating my uncle’s death, I was building something new. Something stronger. Something without limitation, and now, because lines have been crossed, we are unrestrained. In a way, my uncle’s sacrifice paved the way for the Cartel to be truly what we were always meant to be.”

Raising my brow, I take the bait just because I want to hear what he means. “And what is that, exactly?”

“Merciless.” His eyes darken as he steps closer, his face changing, almost contorting into a sinister sneer. His voice drops to a guttural whisper. “The kind of monsters that make the devil himself cower in fear.”

I’ve never been the type to falter.

Never had someone stare me down and twist my insides.

But there is something about the way Javier is looking at me right now that’s having that exact effect.

It’s like staring into the eyes of someone who has no soul.

It’s fucking scary as hell, and I don’t scare easy.

Suddenly, movement to my right catches my eye, my head flicking to check who has entered the room, breaking my intense stare down with Javier. The air suddenly feels thick, suffocating, and my heart stutters to a stop when a figure emerges from the shadows behind Javier.

The sharp click of boots on concrete echoes through the room as she steps into the light, and I force myself not to react.

But fuck, my insides are twisting in knots.

Nighthawk.

My star pupil from The Nest.

The bird I personally trained to be one of the deadliest assassins in our ranks.

She had been out on mission for years when Alpha and I liberated The Nest.

I sent word through secure channels.

She should have received the message, even on mission.

So why the fuck is she still working for the very assholes who stole her as a child?

Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second—emerald green meet brown—and I see the same flash of recognition. The same careful mask sliding into place to hide it. Her face is harder now, marked by years of violence. Gone is the eager young recruit who used to hang on my every word. In her place stands someone I barely recognize who has walked into hell with Javier and made a home there.

The room suddenly feels colder as the implications hit me.

If she’s here, working with the Cartel…

My gaze drifts to Livvy’s battered form, and bile rises in my throat.

Did my own protégé do this to Livvy? The thought makes me want to be physically sick.

“I see you’ve met my associate,” Javier chimes, clearly misreading my rigid posture as fear rather than shock. “She’s quite skilled at extracting information. Would you like a demonstration?”

Behind me, Livvy lets out a broken whimper that slices straight through my heart, causing something primal to ignite in my chest—a protective fury that burns away the shock and leaves nothing but cold determination in its wake.

My hands curl into fists at my sides as I fight to keep my voice steady.

No matter what history Nighthawk and I share, if she hurt Livvy, if she’s truly lost herself to these monsters, then student or not, she’s going to learn exactly why they called me the deadliest bird in The Nest.

Focusing my attention on Javier, I bring back my sassy smirk. “Did anyone ever tell you what your uncle’s last words were?” I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

He leans forward, interested, though hesitation is written all over his face. “What?”

“He said, and I quote… it’s getting hot in here .” I smile sweetly. “ So hot that I feel like my head could fall off . Then, word on the street is he screamed like a little bitch when his head did, in fact, fall off.”

The backhand comes fast, my head snapping to the side, but I roll with it, blood seeping into my mouth, then rolling down my chin while I let out an amused chuckle.

Worth it to see the loss of control in his eyes.

His chest puffs with his frantic breaths as he steps right up into my face, almost chest to chest. “You think this is funny?” he spits. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

“Actually…” I reply, turning back to face him, swiping the blood from my lip, dropping all pretense of humor. “The only thing more pathetic than watching your uncle die begging for his life is watching you try to fill his shoes. Must be hard living in the shadow of a dead man who wasn’t worth shit to begin with. I mean, do you want to lose your head, too, because I can arrange that?”

Behind him, Nighthawk shifts slightly, her facial expression unreadable.

But I know her stance because I taught it to her— she’s ready for violence.

I glance at Livvy—there’s fear in her one good eye but also strength. She’s holding on, refusing to break.

That’s my girl.

“I’m going to destroy everything you love,” Javier hisses. “Starting with her .” He gestures to Livvy. “Then I’m coming for that club of yours. And your precious Alpha? He’s going to watch it all burn before I end him.”

Puffing out my chest, I flair my nostrils. “You think you’re gonna outsmart the club?”

Javier grins, his eyes narrowing on me as he takes a menacing step closer. So close I can smell whatever stinky shit he had for dinner. He leans down, looking me directly in the eyes. “I already have, mi amore .”

Suddenly, two strong sets of arms wrap around me from behind, capturing me in their grasp. Javier lets out a delirious laugh as my legs instantly kick up to try and free myself from the hold his two goons have on me. Fuck, these bastards are strong.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” I scream, my eyes meeting Nighthawk across the room as she inches toward Livvy.

My fighting stops, my heart rate instantly spiking as I watch my protégé moving toward Livvy with a blade in her hand. My instincts kick in. Everything inside me fights like hell to get to Livvy now. My right hand breaks loose, slamming it into the face of the goon on my left.

“Livvy!” I scream, still fighting like hell.

Javier’s booming laughter floods the meat packing hall, echoing off the walls like a villain in a damn Bond movie, while my eyes land on Nighthawk. She inches closer and closer to Livvy.

The goons continue to struggle to restrain me. I slam my fist into each of them continuously while I rampage to get to her. “Nighthawk. Stop!” I scream, causing her to pause momentarily. Her blade hesitates over Livvy’s ring finger.

Her eyes meet mine just as one of his goons slams his fist in my face so hard I drop to my knee with the force of the hit.

“Stay down!” he growls.

I shake my head to try and stop it from swirling. But seeing Nighthawk move her blade to Livvy’s finger, I stand to my feet and start running.

Livvy’s scream pierces through the building, and just as I’m about to pounce on Nighthawk, arms wrap around me again, pulling me against a hard body. A stabbing sensation against my neck causes me to wince, and instantly, my cognitive function starts to deteriorate.

“No, n-no!” I mumble before the goon lets me go, my body rapidly dropping to the floor, my legs giving out. My hand weakly slides to my neck, feeling where the fucker injected me with something as I fall completely to the floor, right beside Livvy.

Barely breathing, unable to speak or move…

Or help.

But I can hear everything.

Javier’s obnoxious laughter.

Nighthawk’s equipment as she continues her assault on Livvy.

And the screaming.

So much screaming.

My breathing is labored, my vision fading in and out, and the last thing I see is Livvy’s ring finger falling to the floor, right beside my head, before everything goes black.