Siren’s Salvation (Reapers Rejects MC: Second Generation: Nevada #4)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Shiver

Seven Years Ago…

The rain hammers against the tin roof of the Shotgun Saints clubhouse, each drop like a miniature explosion in the agonizing Texas heat.

I'm sprawled on the worn leather couch, flipping through an ancient copy of Easy Rider, when I hear it—a muffled sob cutting through the thunderous downpour.

"What the fuck?" I mutter, tossing the magazine aside and sitting up straight.

The crying grows louder, unmistakably female.

My stomach clenches as I recognize the voice.

It’s Grace.

I'm on my feet in an instant, my boots pounding across the wooden floor as I rush toward the sound.

The clubhouse feels cavernous and empty tonight, with most of the boys out on a run.

But that crying, Christ, it's tearing me apart.

"Grace?" I call out, my voice echoing off the walls adorned with patches and faded photographs. "You okay, kiddo?"

No answer, just another heart-wrenching sob.

I pick up my pace, my mind racing through possibilities.

Did she have a fight with one of her dipshit high school boyfriends?

Is she hurt?

The protective big brother instinct kicks into overdrive, my fists clenching at my sides.

I round the corner into the main room and freeze.

The sight before me is like a sucker punch to the gut.

Grace is huddled in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest.

Her mascara-streaked face is a mask of fear and pain.

My little sister, barely eighteen, looking so small and broken.

And looming over her, a hulking silhouette backlit by a flash of lightning, is the VP of the club, Bronco.

I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Bronco turns, and I catch the glint of satisfaction in his eyes before he schools his features into mock concern. "Just checkin' on the little lady," he drawls. "Heard her cryin' and wanted to make sure she was okay."

I don't buy it for a second.

Every instinct I have is screaming that something is very, very wrong.

I take a step closer, my eyes never leaving Bronco's face. "That right, Grace? Everything okay?"

Grace looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and brimming with tears.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Just another choked sob.

"See?" Bronco says, spreading his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Girl's just upset about somethin'. Probably woman troubles or some shit."

I clench my jaw so hard I can hear my teeth grinding. "Why don't you back the fuck off and let me talk to my sister?"

Bronco's eyes narrow, but he takes a step back. "Sure thing, Shiver. Didn't mean to step on any toes."

I watch him saunter away, my skin crawling at the smug look on his face.

As soon as he's out of earshot, I crouch down next to Grace.

"Hey, kiddo," I say softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her tear-stained cheek. "What happened? Did that asshole do something to you?"

Grace shakes her head violently, but I can see the lie in her eyes. "N-no," she stammers. "It's nothing. I'm f-fine."

"Bullshit," I growl, my anger rising again. "You're sitting here crying your eyes out, looking like you've seen a ghost. That ain't nothing."

She flinches at my tone, and I immediately regret letting my temper show.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Gracie," I say, gentler this time. "I'm not mad at you, I promise. I just want to know what's going on so I can help."

Grace looks up at me, her lower lip trembling. "You can't help," she whispers. "No one can."

My heart sinks. "What do you mean? Grace, please, talk to me."

She shakes her head again, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. "I can't. You'll hate me."

"Never," I say fiercely. "There is nothing in this world that could make me hate you. You're my little sister, and I love you. No matter what."

Grace's face crumples and she lets out a wail that cuts me to the core.

I gather her into my arms, holding her close as she sobs against my chest.

My shirt is soaked with her tears in seconds, but I don't give a shit.

All that matters is comforting her.

"Shh, it's okay," I murmur, stroking her hair. "I've got you. You're safe now."

We stay like that for what feels like hours, the storm raging outside while Grace pours out her pain.

Gradually, her sobs subside into hiccups, and she pulls away slightly.

She sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "I'm sorry."

I give her a lopsided grin. "Hey, what are big brothers for if not to be human tissues?"

That earns me a weak smile, and I count it as a victory. "There's my girl," I say, tapping her nose lightly. "Now, you want to tell me what's got you so upset?"

Grace's smile fades, and she looks down at her hands. "I... I can't."

I bite back a sigh of frustration. "Grace, come on. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Did you crash Dad's truck or something?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's... it's worse than that."

My stomach churns. "Did you kill someone?" I ask, only half-joking.

Grace looks appalled. "What? No!"

"Then what?" I press. "Come on, kiddo. You're scaring the shit out of me here."

Grace takes a shaky breath. "It's... it's Bronco," she whispers.

My blood runs cold. "What about Bronco?"

She closes her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He... he..."

And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

The crying, the fear in her eyes, the way she flinched when I touched her.

My vision goes red.

"That motherfucker," I snarl, surging to my feet. "I'll fuckin’ kill him."

Grace grabs my arm, her eyes wide with panic. "No! Shiver, please, you can't!"

I look down at her, my anger momentarily overtaken by confusion. "What do you mean, I can't? That piece of shit hurt you!"

She shakes her head frantically. "You don't understand. Dad... Dad arranged it."

The world tilts on its axis.

"What?" I breathe, sure I must have misheard her.

Grace's voice is barely audible. "Dad arranged for me to marry Bronco. His family gave the ranch a huge check. I'm supposed to be his wife now."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

My father, the man I've looked up to my entire life, sold my baby sister like she’s a heifer coming into heat to a rival ranch.

The betrayal cuts deep, but it's nothing compared to the rage building inside me.

"That doesn't give him the right," I growl. "Marriage or not, he had no fucking right to touch you without your consent."

Grace's grip on my arm tightens. "Please, Shiver. You can't do anything. If you hurt him, Dad will know I told you. He'll be so angry."

I crouch down again, taking her face in my hands. "Listen to me, Grace. I don't give a fuck what Dad thinks. I'm your big brother, and it's my job to protect you. Always has been, always will be. No one gets to hurt you and walk away from it. Not even if they've got Dad's blessing."

She looks at me, fear and hope warring in her eyes. "What are you going to do?"

I stand up, thinking about exactly what I’m going to do. "I'm going to have a little chat with my soon-to-be brother-in-law."

"Shiver, no!" Grace pleads, scrambling to her feet. "He'll hurt you!"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Sweetheart, I'd like to see him try. You forget who you're talking to?"

She bites her lip, still looking uncertain. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

I grin, but there's no humor in it. "Now, when have I ever done anything stupid?"

Before she can answer, I'm striding across the room, my eyes scanning for Bronco.

I spot him by the bar, nursing a beer and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Hey, asshole," I call out as I approach. "We need to talk."

Bronco turns, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's the matter, Shiver? Little sister tell you some stories?"

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off his face right then and there. "Cut the bullshit.”

"What the hell is going on here?" I demand, my voice echoing in the cavernous room.

A smirk plays on his lips. "I was just getting acquainted with my future wife. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" He hollers over toward my sister.

Grace doesn't respond.

Her eyes are wide with fear, darting between Bronco and me.

"She's eighteen, for fuck's sake," I growl, taking a step closer. "And you're what, pushing forty?"

Bronco shrugs, completely unbothered. "Age is just a number, brother. Besides, not sure if your little sis told you this. Your old man signed off on this. It's all nice and legal."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to knock his teeth in. "Legal doesn't make it right."

"Four million dollars says otherwise," Bronco counters, his grin widening. "That check my family wrote to Sharp Shooters Ranch? That makes little Grace here my property."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I knew we were looking for avenues to add more money to the ranch, but I never thought he’d resort to this.

Now, my father’s using this marriage to secure the future of our ranch, one of the largest in Texas.

But hearing Bronco talk about my sister like she's cattle to be bought and sold... it makes my blood boil.

"Grace," I say, keeping my eyes locked on Bronco, "go to your room. Now."

She doesn't need to be told twice.

I hear her footsteps retreating, quick and light, as she flees the scene.

Once she's gone, I close the distance between Bronco and me. "Listen here, you piece of shit," I hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I don't care how much money your family threw at this place. Grace is not your property. She's a person, and she deserves to be treated with respect."

Bronco's eyes narrow, all traces of amusement gone. "Watch yourself, Shiver. I'm your VP now. You'd do well to remember that."

I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "VP? That's cute. You think that little patch on your cut means anything to me? I've been in this life since I could walk. When the old man steps down, we both know who's taking over and it won’t be you."

For a moment, I see a flicker of uncertainty in Bronco's eyes.

But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.

"We'll see about that," he says, his voice low and menacing. "In the meantime, I suggest you stay out of my business with Grace. What happens between a man and his wife is no one else's concern."

I feel something inside me snap.

Before I can think better of it, I've got Bronco by the throat, slamming him against the wall. "She's not your wife yet," I snarl. "And if I have anything to say about it, she never will be."

The impact of Bronco's body against the wall echoes through the clubhouse, but I barely register it.

My vision's tunneled, focused solely on the smug bastard in front of me.

I can feel his pulse racing under my fingers, but there's no fear in his eyes.

Just that same goddamn arrogance.

"What the fuck happened?" I growl, my face inches from his. "Why'd you do that to her?"

Bronco's lips curl into a sneer, and he actually has the audacity to laugh.

The sound grates against my nerves like sandpaper.

"Go after her?" he chuckles. "I didn't go after shit. She's mine, Shiver. Bought and paid for."

My grip tightens involuntarily, and I have to force myself to loosen it.

As much as I want to crush his windpipe, I need answers more.

"That's bullshit and you know it," I spit. "Just because this was all arranged, it doesn't give you the right to do that to her! You could have waited, created a relationship with her, not raped her, and traumatized the fuck out of her."

I search his face for any sign of remorse, any flicker of humanity.

There's nothing.

Just cold, calculating eyes staring back at me.

"You don't get it, do you?" Bronco says, his voice eerily calm. "My family handed over the check. Grace belongs to me now. I can do whatever I damn well want to her as long as she still manages to breathe. That means there’s a lot I can do to her."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumble back, releasing my grip on Bronco's throat.

My mind reels, trying to process the callousness, the utter lack of empathy.

"You sick fuck," I snarl.

Bronco straightens his cut, seemingly unfazed by our confrontation. "Welcome to the real world, kid. Everything's for sale if the price is right."

I lunge at Bronco, my fist connecting with his jaw.

The satisfying crunch of bone against knuckle ignites a primal fury within me.

We tumble to the ground, a tangle of limbs and rage.

I snarl, raining blows down on him. "You piece of shit!"

Bronco's no pushover, though.

He bucks me off, his elbow catching me in the ribs.

I wheeze, momentarily winded, but adrenaline keeps me moving.

We grapple across the floor, knocking over chairs and tables.

Blood spatters the worn wood—mine or his, I can't tell.

I expect Bronco to tire, but he keeps coming, a manic grin on his face.

I double over, gasping.

"What's wrong, Shiver?" he taunts. "Can't handle a real fight?"

I straighten up, spitting blood. "I'm gonna fucking kill you for what you did to her."

Bronco laughs, a cold, hollow sound that echoes through the clubhouse. "Oh please. You think I give a shit about your sister? This isn't about her."

Bronco's lips curl into a cruel smirk. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoyin’ every damn second with her. " He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper. "You have no idea how much your sister screamed, how tight she was?—"

My vision goes red. "Shut the fuck up!"

But Bronco doesn't stop.

He keeps going, spewing the most vile, disgusting things about Grace.

Each word is like a knife twisting in my gut.

"She begged me to stop, you know," he says, eyes glinting with malice. "Cried for her big brother to save her."

I can feel something inside me snap.

My hand moves of its own accord, reaching for the gun holstered at my hip.

Bronco continues, oblivious to the danger. "But you weren't there, were you?"

Time seems to slow down. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, feel the cold metal of the gun in my hand.

A voice in the back of my mind screams that this is a point of no return, but I push it aside.

In a split second, I make my decision.

The gun comes up, my finger squeezes the trigger, and a deafening crack echoes through the clubhouse.

Bronco's taunting words cut off abruptly as the bullet finds its mark between his eyes.

For a moment, he just stands there, a look of surprise frozen on his face.

Then he crumples to the ground, lifeless.

I stare at his body, my hand still raised, the gun still smoking.

Holy shit.

I just killed him.

Not just any man—a member of my father's MC.

The newly appointed VP.

"Fuck," I whisper, the full weight of what I've done crashing down on me.

But as I think of Grace, of what he did to her, I can't bring myself to regret it.

I did this for her.

To protect her.

A piercing scream from upstairs snaps me out of my daze.

Grace.

Shit, she must've heard the gunshot.

I holster my weapon and bolt for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

My heart's racing, but not from the exertion.

What the hell am I gonna tell her?

I reach her door, try the handle.

Locked.

Fuck.

"Grace, it's me, open up kiddo. Come on." My voice comes out rougher than I intended, and I clear my throat. "It's okay, you're safe now."

There's silence on the other side, broken only by muffled sobs.

I lean my forehead against the door, trying to keep my own emotions in check.

"Please, Gracie. I need to know you're okay."

Finally, I hear movement.

The lock clicks, and the door cracks open.

Grace stands there, her face a mess of smeared makeup and tears.

My chest tightens at the sight.

"What..." she chokes out, her eyes wide with fear. "What happened? Is he... did he get shot?"

I swallow hard, knowing I can't lie to her. Not about this. "Yeah, he did. I shot him, Grace. He's dead."

Her eyes go even wider, if that's possible. "You... oh God, Sean."

She uses my real name, something she rarely does. "Dad can't know. Please, you can't tell him what Bronco did to me. Promise me."

Fuck.

This is a mess.

Part of me knows we should come clean, tell our old man everything.

But looking at Grace, seeing the pleading in her eyes, I know I can't do that to her.

"All right, kiddo. I promise. Your secret's safe with me." The words taste bitter in my mouth, but I mean them.

I'd do anything for my little sister, even if it means carrying this burden.

Grace throws herself into my arms, sobbing into my chest.

I hold her tight, my mind racing.

How the hell am I gonna cover this up?

But as I stroke her hair, trying to soothe her, I know one thing for certain.

I'll figure it out.

No matter what it takes, I'll protect her.

That's what big brothers are for, right?