Chapter 9
DANYL
The ride to the Chrome Demon’s club house is a study in controlled fury.
Three black SUVs. Five men in each. No markings. No music. No chatter.
The only sound is weapons being checked and ammunition loaded.
I sit in the front passenger seat, hands open on my thighs, breathing slow through a storm of emotions that wants to rip me apart from the inside out.
Alexei is driving and keeps glancing at me. I don’t tell him to stop. Let him see.
Let them all see.
This is what happens when you take my wife.
Streetlights streak past. Brick buildings, shuttered shops, the occasional neon sign flickering.
As we cut deeper into MC territory, graffiti grows bolder, thicker, more territorial.
Spray-painted demons with blood dripping from their mouths shows a pathetic attempt at intimidation.
I lean forward. “Speed up.”
Alexei obeys instantly.
The headlights catch movement on the sidewalk. Two bikers stare at our convoy, cigarettes glowing, hands twitching near their jackets.
One of our men cracks the window and flashes steel.
The bikers disappear. Cowards.
I close my fist and my knuckles pop.
Every second we’re on the road is a second she’s alone with men who don’t see her as human. Who see her as leverage. As payment. As revenge.
Rage pulses through me, thick and toxic. I don’t push it down. I want it sharp. I want it ready.
The clubhouse appears around the corner, a sprawling concrete garage with rusted metal siding and a faded mural of their emblem. Ten motorcycles line the front. A single dim security light flickers overhead like it’s dying.
Good. Everything here will die tonight.
The SUVs roll to a smooth, silent stop.
No one moves. No one speaks. They’re waiting for me.
I open the door and step out into night air that feels dense, as it’s an omen of something terrible about to happen.
Rik moves to my side, face carved from stone. “We go on your word.”
I nod. He’s the Pakhan, the Boss, but it’s my wife that they took. I study the outside of the building. I’ve memorized the blueprints of the inside.
Liza is in there. I feel it like a wire pulled tight through my ribs.
I look at the men, they’re all watching me with alert eyes. “Let’s go,” I say in a low voice.
Two men cut the power at the transformer box. The clubhouse plunges into darkness. The only light now is moonlight and the glow of our SUVs’ headlights illuminating the entrance.
A perfect silhouette for anyone stupid enough to peek out.
Rik signals our men into position.
With one of my men on the flank, I walk straight to the front door and kick. The impact shudders up my leg as the door flies inward, ripping off one hinge and slamming against the wall with a metallic howl.
Shouts erupt from inside.
I step into the darkness and flip down my night vision goggles.
The first man charges from the left, swinging a bat. I duck under the arc, grab his wrist, and twist until bone snaps like dry wood. He screams. I silence him with a quick elbow to the temple. His body drops.
The second man fires blindly from behind a pillar and misses.
I don’t.
A third tries a physical attack, I drive his head against the concrete column once, twice. Blood splatters on the column. How’s that for graffiti?
My vision tunnels and my heart beats like a steady drum, I enter the familiar zone. I don’t feel human in these moments. I am violence wearing skin. A monster.
Her monster.
More movement, two shapes rushing me from the back room.
I hear Rik’s low command behind me.
My crew opens fire. They’re controlled, precise, shots that send bodies tumbling before they can reach me.
The room falls silent except for groans and the drip of a broken pipe leaking somewhere overhead.
I inhale slowly and stench of gasoline, metal, and sweat assault my nose. And beneath that, I smell her.
I move deeper into the building, stepping over bodies and a scattering of broken beer bottles.
At the far end of the garage, a heavy metal door stands slightly ajar.
A faint whimper, like a muffled cry, reaches my ears.
Every nerve in my body snaps to attention.
I reach the door, grab the handle, and pull, hard.
The door swings open with a groan. At first I don’t see her, but I sweep the space again and find her in the corner, tied to a chair. Her face is bruised, her dress torn. Wide eyes look out into darkness she can’t see through. Her chest rises too fast. She’s alive, but terrified.
I take a step toward her, but a man slides out from behind a pillar, he cocks a gun and dig it into my back. “Take another step, Bratva, and you die,” he snarls.
Slowly I lift my hands halfway, palms out, letting the bastard think he’s in control. But this is not surrender. Just calculation.
One voice behind me. One gun, close range.
He thinks that gives him leverage. It doesn’t. He’s already dead, he just doesn’t know it, yet.
I look at Liza, who’s scraping her chair against the floor in frantic movements. “Danyl,” she cries. “Are you okay?” Her breath is sharp and broken.
“I’m fine,” I say calmly. “Stay still. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
The asshole with the gun laughs. “As fine as you can be with a loaded gun to your head.”
Liza whimpers and it guts me. I force my voice to be steady. “Put the gun down.”
The man behind me laughs. It’s a hoarse, smoker’s rattle. “You killed our man, Bratva. You and your little girlfriend. Blood for blood, yeah?”
Liza flinches. “Don’t hurt him,” she says. “He didn’t do anything, it was all me.”
She’s trying to protect me. I’m so proud of her.
“I’ll get to you, again, after I’ve killed your boyfriend. Don’t worry, we’ll have some fun together before I put you in the ground, too.”
Again. He’s the one who hit her.
Cold rage fills my body. I flex my fingers and drop my shoulders, draining them of all tension. “You touch her,” I say softly, “and your whole crew will watch me skin you alive.”
The gun presses harder between my shoulder blades.
He steps closer, another mistake. This guy is an amateur.
I tilt my head, just enough to see him in my peripheral vision. He’s wearing night vison goggles too. Sweat glistens at his temples. He’s nervous. Excellent.
“You think you can walk in here like you own the goddamn world?” he spits. “After you killed one of ours?”
I don’t bother answering, instead I twist, trap his wrist, and drive my elbow into his forearm with enough force to snap bone.
He screams, the gun clattering from his broken grip.
I spin behind him and lock his throat in the crook of my arm. And then I drive him backward into the wall so hard the plaster cracks.
He claws at me, choking, legs kicking.
I tighten my hold. “You were saying?” I whisper into his ear.
His mouth opens, closes, opens again.
I drop him and he collapses to his knees, gasping like a fish.
Then I kick him once, sharp, right across the jaw. His goggles go flying as he hits the floor and stays there.
“Danyl?” Liza asks. “Are you okay?” Her head moves from side to side, trying to see through the darkness.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m coming to get you.”
“I know you would.”
The lights come back on as I reach her. I take off the night vision goggles and have to blink a few times to get used to the brightness. I drop to my knees in front of her so fast my joints bark with the impact.
Her breath hitches. Her eyes flood.
“Danyl,” she whispers. It’s not even a word. It’s a sob barely held back.
I lift my hands and cup her face. Her skin is cold. Her cheek is bruised.
There’s a cut at the corner of her lip.
“I’m here,” I tell her, my voice breaking on the last word. “I’m here, milaya.”
She shudders. “I’m so stupid. I should have known my dad was up to no good. He’s never cared about anyone but himself.”
I cut through the ties on her wrists and bring her hands to the front. She winces as blood rushes back into her limbs. I move to her ankles, working slower, softer.
“You listen to me,” I murmur. “Your father didn’t betray you because you trusted him.” I meet her eyes. “He betrayed you because he’s incapable of love.”
Liza’s breath shivers out of her.
“But you,” I continue, brushing my thumb over her cheek, “are not wrong for wanting to believe someone cared about you.”
Her lip wobbles.
I stand, pull her gently to her feet, and she folds into me like she was meant to live in my arms.
Her shaking hits me like a punch to the chest.
I hold her tighter.
Her face presses into my throat, breath warm against my skin, and I swear I’ll kill her father myself before letting him touch her life again.
Rik appears in the doorway, weapon raised. “You good?”
I nod once. “We’re done here.”
“Any survivors?” he asks.
I glance at the biker on the floor. “No.”
Rik jerks his chin. The men behind him move silently and efficiently, while ensuring the clubhouse will never operate again.
Liza lifts her head, eyes wide. “Danyl, you killed him?”
I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “He touched you, threatened you.”
She doesn’t argue, just clings tighter.
I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her past the broken door, through the front room and into the cool night where our SUVs wait. The air feels lighter now, easier to breathe.
Every step she leans into me, trusting me completely. Something inside me rearranges and locks into place.
Rik follows us out and opens the door to one of the SUVs. He nods at me. “We’ll take care of the rest.”
I help Liza inside, and then slide in beside her. Rik shuts the door.
As Alexei starts driving, I hit the button for the privacy screen that shields us from the front.
Liza curls into me, fingers gripping my jacket. I slide out of it and wrap it around her. My arms won’t let go of her, so I keep her in my embrace. I lower my forehead to hers. “You’re safe now.”
Her breath trembles. “I knew you would find me.”
“I will always find you,” I say, voice raw. “I will always come for you.”
Her eyes close, and she melts against me, trusting me to keep her safe.
And for the first time since I saw her slip through the side door at the fundraising party, my lungs fill fully with air and I breathe normally again.