Chapter Sixteen
CAMDEN
Turns out, zeroing out someone’s bank account and rerouting all future deposits will really piss them off.
Especially when they’re bringing in the sheer volume the Widowmakers are.
They all scrambled to figure out what was happening, searching for their mole.
My men and I got to sit back and let them rip each other apart one by one.
Sin rounds the corner, his eyes scanning the room until they land on me, his footfalls heavy on the hardwood floors as he hurries over to me, my hackles rising in anticipation. This doesn’t look like good news.
“The Willow Killer hit again. You’re not gonna fucking believe who.”
“I’m not going to mimic you like a fucking owl, Sin, who the fuck did he hit?”
“Pestilence.” I stand up so fast the chair flips over behind me, my knuckles resting on the tabletop so I can lean forward and brace myself.
“You’re fucking kidding me. We can’t even find that fucker, either of them! How did he get to him first?”
“I don’t know, Prez, but you need to call Wes back; we’ve got four missed calls on the burner.”
Jesus Christ. Wrath drops the phone in my hand, and I march up to my room, calling him as I take the steps.
“Finally. You’re a difficult fucker to get ahold of.”
“Yeah, been a little preoccupied,” I tell him.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Tell me you’ve got something good. Anything. We need to find this guy, and now.” I open the door to my room, disappointment washing over me that Saige isn’t sitting in her spot on the bed, greeting me with an evil glare that could cut glass.
“Well, you won’t be finding any guy. It’s a woman.” My steps falter in the entryway of my room. There’s no way I heard him correctly.
“The Willow Killer is a woman?”
“Saige Russo is the Willow Killer. Her family was killed in a car accident almost eleven years ago. Vincent, Maria, and Willow Russo. She went to college and got a law degree, but then . . .” Wes’ words are drowned out by the blood rushing between my ears.
I stumble forward, bracing myself on the metal footboard.
“Wes, Saige Russo? You’re sure? Be fucking sure.”
“Positive. All roads lead to her. But if you want to bring her down, you might want to hurry. There are about ten different hits out on her on the dark web.”
“Thanks for your help, I’ll be in touch,” I manage to say as my vision gets hazy.
I’ve stared down death, seen the barrel of a gun inches from my face, felt the terror of my own blood being taken, seen Lucas and his woman’s bodies destroyed by evil men, but this?
This is different. Fuck, it was all right there in front of me, and I was too goddamn blind to see it.
All the half-truths, all the vile venom she injected into my veins, and I’d been too consumed to put it together on my own.
The writing was always on the wall, the way she tracked me down, her plans to take me away to kill me.
She was fucking serious. Her hate for clubs, her unwavering strength in the face of a threat.
Jesus Christ. I didn’t see any of it because I didn’t want to.
I knew I didn’t know a goddamn thing about the woman, and yet I wanted her anyway.
She sat right in front of us and asked questions about herself, what a twisted, smart, pain in the fucking ass. Now I know the truth of who she really is, and it scares the shit out of me. What scares me more? The fact that she’s now in danger.
I turn and race down the steps, taking them three at a time. “Wrath!”
“Yeah, Prez, where’s the fire?”
“Almost ten years ago, when that car accident happened, I ran the red light and caused that car to flip? Do you remember?”
“Yeah, they were all dead on impact, we tried to revive them, but we had to leave before the police arrived.”
“Yeah, I asked you to pay the funeral expenses. Do you still have that info? Can you get the last known address of that family? I need it now.”
“Yeah, give me ten.”
“You’ve got five.”
The wait for him to do his magic is agonizing, my thoughts bouncing between wanting to rattle her fucking skull, pride, and the worst emotion of all: fear.
Wrath comes through for me and gets me the address to her family home in under five minutes, even though it felt like hours.
I just hope like fucking hell she’s still living in it.
I’m out the door and looking for her bike before I realize it, my eyes narrowing in on the sleek, all-black Harley at the back. It’s foreign, riding a bike that’s not my own, but since she made that decision for us by stealing mine, this is what I’m working with.
The ride to Spruce Harbor is wracked with fear of the unknown.
Pestilence is a dangerous, notoriously sick fuck, so for her to go out of her way to eliminate him?
Saige has more balls than most club members.
The thought makes me simultaneously fume with anger and bask in pride.
My fucking queen. I should kick her ass for being so reckless, then bow at her goddamn feet in worship.
The wind howls past me, the world blurring into streaks of asphalt and dust, as I push the engine of her bike beneath me to the extreme.
I saw firsthand how hard she can ride it, so I’m trusting it’ll do the same for me.
My heart pounds loudly in my ears as I push the bike faster, letting it eat up the distance between us.
Time seems to drag as I picture her beautiful face, the sparkling brown eyes that hold so much depth, the swirl of color when the sun hits them just right, and then I see Lucas, the last, brutal, final image I have of my brother, and panic digs its evil claws into me and holds me hostage.
I realize I’ve never heard her laugh.
I still don’t know how she takes her coffee.
What her favorite color is and what side of the bed she prefers when she’s not being cuffed to it.
Fear coils tight in my gut, whispering all the worst-case scenarios that could be happening while I’m still too far away.
Rogue’s words echo in my ears. I should have listened; I should have gone after her the moment she had left.
But responsibility and loyalty to my club came above all else, and I felt like the decision was made for me.
Every second that passes feeds the panic gnawing at me.
I grip the throttle harder, my knuckles white as I push her to the limit.
The only thing I care about right now is getting my eyes on her.
I need to know she’s alive and unharmed.
I have no doubts that Saige can handle herself, but I don’t want her to have to anymore.
I have no idea what I’ll find when I get there, but all I know right now is that nothing had better get in my way because I’m not stopping until Saige is in front of me.
As I finally hit the tiny town of Spruce Harbor, hope fills my chest. I still have no idea what I’m going to say when I see her, but once I know she’s safe, I’ll think of something.
Saige’s family home comes into view, a modest cape with an acre of land. I really hope Saige was able to inherit it because having a home to stay in that’s yours after your parents are gone is life-changing. I would know.
The tires screech and whine as I kill the engine, flipping the kickstand down and taking off up the stairs to the large wraparound porch.
I don’t bother knocking, turning the handle and finding it already unlocked.
Disappointment washes over me. She should fucking know better than to leave a house unlocked.
Saige’s dark, floral scent engulfs me as I cross the threshold.
I quickly scan my surroundings, my hand firmly on the gun secured in my holster.
Everything looks undisturbed. Not a coffee cup in the sink, not a throw blanket on the couch, there’s no sign of life, and it looks like it’s been that way for a while.
I tear through the house, my heart pounding out of my chest as I go from room to room, coming up empty. “Saige!”
I come to a stop in the center of a bedroom that has to be hers, the walls painted a muted grey, black, long-stemmed roses with silver accents painted onto them. I can picture her lying on the bed, the dark comforter pulled up to her waist as she sleeps.
My fists clench and unclench as I work on steadying my heavy breathing. When fear comes, it’s irrational and manipulative, but when you know firsthand that people can die, you tend to understand where it comes from.
A frame sits on her dresser, a younger-looking Saige with a familiar woman with hair that matches hers; her dad and sister look so similar, with such drastically different features from Saige and her mom.
Saige and her sister are both wearing crowns, Saige’s black with skulls at the top, her sister’s pink with hearts.
They must have been polar opposites. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, a parent on either side of them, hugging them.
They look like the picture-perfect family.
And I destroyed it.
Guilt eats me alive as I stare at the photo. I pull out my phone, dialing Malice. He picks up on the first ring.
“She’s not fucking here!”
“Shit.” Silence stretches between us as I look around her room, looking for any clues as to where the fuck she could be. “Oh! The tracker! I forgot to check the tracker!”
“Malice,” I seethe. “What fucking tracker?”
“The one I put in your gremlin bell after shit went south last year and Kinsey was kidnapped. I put it in there for emergencies in case we ever got separated. My bad! Should have thought of it sooner! We haven’t needed it.”
The fucking gremlin bell. When I became president of Hell’s Heathens, Lucas got me a custom gremlin bell to watch over me.
The bell has our insignia engraved in it, a skull with a king’s crown sliding off its head, the dagger slicing right through the center.
Saige has my bike, which means we can fucking track her.
“Well, we fucking need it now, Mal!”
“I know. I know. I’ve got it. It’s searching . . . bam! Got her! Well, I got your bike, or the gremlin bell, let’s hope the bell is with the bike and Saige is with both of them . . .”
“Malice! Focus!”
“It pinged, north edge of Spruce Harbor. Just sent you the location.” My phone dings not a second later, and then I’m hanging up with Malice, looking at her.
She’s only ten minutes from here, in the middle of fucking nowhere.
The red dot pulses on the screen like a heartbeat, and I hope like hell that’s a good sign.
“Hold on, baby,” I say to myself. “I’m coming.”
Saige’s engine roars to life under me, and I push the throttle hard enough to make the tires scream and spin out.
I make the ten-minute drive in six, my thoughts a jumbled mess of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.
Who else has figured out her identity? Who will be coming for her?
I have the strongest urge to kill them all in cold blood and lay them at her feet for even daring to cast judgment on my queen.
I pull the bike to an abrupt stop outside a large, Pacific Northwest-style home, and double-check the tracker. She would have heard the rumble of the bike, and as I race up the steps, the door flings open, a gun pointed right at my head.
Saige stands there like a goddess, her brown eyes narrowed at me, gun cocked and loaded like she really would put a bullet between my eyes. She’s stunning.
“You’re okay,” I say on a rushed, relieved breath. I want to move to her, pull her into my arms and breathe in her scent. But I don’t know where her head is at, and I have no interest in crossing Saige’s boundaries.
“You came.”
“You think I’d let anyone get away with taking the only thing that matters to me?”
Her shoulders deflate slightly, her eyes flashing with hurt. It happens so fast that had I not been paying attention, I would have missed it.
“I’m gonna need you to get your head out of your ass and give me back what belongs to me.”
Saige pulls the keys to my bike from her tight pocket, throwing them at me. I knock them to the side as soon as they’re within reach.
“Not that.”
“But you just said . . .”
“I know what I said, vixen. If you think my bike is the most important thing to me, then you haven’t been paying attention.
I would chase you to the ends of the earth if it meant I could lay my eyes on you one more time.
” As I speak the words, I watch as they sink into her skin, seeping into the marrow of her bones, realization hitting her with force. “I know your secret.”
Her impenetrable eyes flash up to me, blinking. “What’s that, Camden?”
“Willow. She was your sister. It’s your calling card. You’re the killer taking out club members. It’s been you all along, right under my nose.” Saige’s steely resolve only seems to sharpen; that fierce, fearless backbone rearing its head. She doesn’t even have the audacity to look shocked.
“So, what? Are you going to kill me now, Chaos? Going to be the hero that tells everyone he got the big bad willow vigilante, taking out all the scum of the earth one dick at a time,” she mocks. I cock my head to the side, running my fingers over the scruff of my facial hair.
“No, vixen, your secret is going to die with me. Because I’m yours, and I’m gonna stand right beside you while we take on anyone who tries to hurt us. I told you, you’re safe with me. I meant it.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To tell me you know my secret?”
“No, I’m here to protect what’s mine. You’re in danger, and I don’t even think you realize how much.
“As you pointed out, I’m the Willow Killer; I’m always in danger. Hell, I seem to welcome it with open arms.”
“Not like this, you don’t. We work with a private investigator who specializes in the dark web and the underground.
I tasked him with finding out your true identity.
Didn’t have any idea it was the woman sleeping in my bed, but I should have put it together.
You were practically putting the info on a gold platter for me.
He found you, Saige. You slipped up somewhere, baby.
There’s a shit ton of hits for your death out, and that was as of this morning.
Now that news has probably traveled that you killed Pestilence? ”
“It’s only a matter of time before they find out who I am, too.”
“Correct,” I tell her as I inch closer to her body, the cool metal of the cuffs in my palm. “Which is why you’re coming back to the clubhouse.” I dangle the cuffs between us, swinging them lightly. “Either willingly or by force. But I’m not gambling with your life.”