5. Raiden
Chapter 5
Raiden
T he scent of jasmine and sandalwood still lingers in the air long after Lucrezia walks out, leaving a charged silence in her wake. I stand there for a moment, trying to shake off the effect she has on me. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts—about Lucrezia, her plans, and the look in her eyes when she spoke of vengeance.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. I need to clear my head. Stepping out of the back room, I navigate through the clubhouse. The air is thick with the lingering smell of beer, leather, and smoke. I push open the front door and step into the cool night air. The sky is a deep indigo, stars peeking through the haze of city lights. The rumble of engines and distant sirens forms a backdrop to my restless thoughts. Leaning against the rough brick wall, I pull out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The first drag fills my lungs, the familiar burn a welcome distraction.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” comes a gravelly voice.
I glance over my shoulder to see Priest sauntering over, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of a street lamp. “Just needed some fresh air,” I reply, exhaling a stream of smoke that swirls upward before disappearing into the night. I only smoke after great sex, great bourbon, or a great ride—none of those happened tonight, but who the hell cares?
Priest joins me against the wall, bumming a cigarette off me a moment later. We stand in companionable silence for a moment as he lights up and takes a slow drag. “So,” he begins, “what did she want?”
I shrug, keeping my gaze fixed ahead. “Not really sure. Something about bringing down her brother. Taking down the family business. The usual mafia bullshit.”
Priest raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “She wants to take down the entire Castiglione empire? She said that?”
“More or less,” I reply, taking another drag from my cigarette, the tip glowing brighter for a moment before dimming again.
He chuckles softly, the sound almost lost in the night air. “That’s quite the ‘not much to tell,’ considering the stakes.”
I shoot him a sidelong glance. “You know how it is. Mafia family drama. She figures we might benefit from helping her out. Though I doubt she’s telling us everything.”
Priest nods thoughtfully, his fingers drumming against the brick wall behind us. “Taking Saverio out of the picture would certainly make our lives easier. The Castigliones have been meddling in our business for years. Not to mention their stranglehold on the rest of the Flint Hills.”
“Exactly,” I say, stubbing out my cigarette on the wall and watching the embers die. “Seems like a win-win. We help her get what she wants, and maybe we carve ourselves a bigger piece of the pie in the process.”
Priest studies me momentarily, his gaze probing and searching for something beyond my words. “And that’s all there is to it? You didn’t look like you were planning a takedown back there. It looked like you had your hands full with her.”
I meet his eyes, bristling slightly at the unspoken implication. “What are you getting at?”
He smirks, a knowing glint in his eye as he shifts his weight against the wall. “I’m just making sure you’re only invested in this for the benefit of the club.”
I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest and ignoring the way my leather jacket creaks with the movement. “It’s not like that. She’s got her agenda, and I’ve got mine. She might be fire and ice rolled into one, but I know better than to get tangled up in her kind of mess. You taught me that years ago.”
“True,” Priest concedes, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “But I also taught you to recognize when personal feelings might cloud your judgment. We’ve both seen what happens when emotions get tangled up in business decisions.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Priest. It’s not gonna be like that with her. She’s a means to an end. Hell, she’s a fucking child.”
He exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate. “She’s dangerous, Raiden. And I don’t just mean because of who her family is.”
I frown. “I can handle dangerous. Been dealing with it my whole damn life.”
He chuckles again, the sound tinged with knowing wisdom. “Oh, I have no doubt about that. But she’s dangerously easy to fall for, kid. There’s something about her—she’s got this magnetism, this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. She’s been through hell and somehow came out the other side stronger for it. That kind of person, Raiden, they’re trouble. The kind of trouble that sneaks under your skin and makes you want to stick around.”
I let out a short laugh, the sound harsh and dismissive. “You can’t be serious. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
“Believe me,” Priest says, his tone softening as he pushes off the wall. “That girl has a way of getting under your skin. Like a splinter you can’t dig out, no matter how hard you try.”
I shake my head, jaw clenching tight enough that I can feel the muscle twitch. “I don’t do love, Priest. You know that. It’s not in my DNA. Never has been, never will be.”
He turns to face me fully, his expression earnest, almost paternal in its concern. “Maybe not love. But attachment? That’s a different story altogether. And you’ve always been prone to those.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, irritation creeping into my voice.
Priest shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the knowing look in his eyes. “Just that I’ve seen this before. A woman like her can make you forget yourself. Make you take risks you wouldn’t normally take. Make you break your own rules. And you, my friend, are all about breaking the rules.”
I resist the urge to snap back at him, to deny what we both know might be true. “I think you’re overestimating her effect on me. This is just another job, nothing more.”
“Am I?” he asks, one eyebrow arched skeptically.
“Yes,” I state firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. “She’s a client. Potentially an ally. That’s it.” Even to my own ears, the words sound defensive.
He sighs, taking another long drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of his boot. “If you say so.”
Silence settles between us, heavy and charged. The distant laughter from the clubhouse reminds me of where we are. “Besides,” I add, softer now. “I don’t believe in love.”
Priest gives me a long, measured look. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” I reply, meeting his gaze without flinching, though something in my chest tightens uncomfortably. “Love makes you weak. It clouds your judgment and gets people killed. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
He nods slowly, his weathered face unreadable. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, then. Nice and neat, wrapped up in a pretty little box.”
I glare at him, my fingers curl into fists at my sides. “Don’t patronize me, Priest. You’re the last person I need that from.”
He raises his hands again, his rings catching the light. “Easy, brother. I’m just trying to understand where your head’s at. We’ve known each other too long for bullshit.”
“My head’s fine,” I snap, pacing a few steps away before turning back. “I’m focused on the club and our interests. That’s all that matters. It’s all that should matter to any of us.”
He tilts his head, eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I hold firm. “And what about Becca?”
A sharp pang pierces through me at the sound of her name. Memories flash unbidden—the curve of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the warmth of her hand in mine. I shove them aside, locking them back in the box where they belong.
“Not everything is about Becca,” I say tersely, my jaw clenching against the tide of emotions threatening to break.
Priest sighs, rubbing a hand over his beard. “I didn’t say it was.”
I bristle at his implication, my shoulders tensing. I’ve told him a thousand times I don’t want to talk about Becca, and still, he brings her up. “Becca died because I couldn’t protect her, you know that. I was right there, and I still failed her.”
“That’s not on you,” he counters firmly, taking a half-step closer. “You couldn’t have known what was going to happen that day. None of us could have predicted it.”
I shake my head, the familiar guilt gnawing at me like acid eating through metal. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, I let someone in, and it cost me every damn thing I cared about.”
“She wouldn’t want you shutting yourself off like this,” he says gently.
I glare at Priest. If he were anyone else, I’d haul off and hit him. “Don’t pretend to know what she’d want. You didn’t know her like I did.”
He holds up his hands again, palms out in that placating gesture that only irritates me more. “Alright. But you’re my brother, Raiden. I’ve watched you carry this weight for too long. It’s crushing you, even if you won’t admit it.”
“I manage just fine,” I snap peevishly.
“Do you?” he asks quietly, and there’s something in his tone that cuts deeper than accusation ever could.
I turn away from him and run a hand over my face. The rough stubble scratches against my palm. “Why are you pushing this? Why now?”
“Because I care,” Priest replies simply, his voice steady and earnest in a way that makes it impossible to doubt his intentions. “I don’t want to see you make choices you’ll regret. You’ve punished yourself enough.”
“Look,” I begin, softening my tone and letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders. “I appreciate the concern. I really do. But I can handle myself.”
“I know you can,” he acknowledges with a slight nod, though the worry doesn’t quite leave his eyes. “Just keep your eyes open. Watch your back out there. And don’t underestimate Lucrezia.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply with a wry half-smile, though privately I wonder if anyone truly knows what she’s capable of.
We stand there for a moment, the camaraderie easing the earlier tension. The neon sign of the clubhouse casts a flickering glow over us, the reds and blues blending into a murky purple on the pavement.
Priest adjusts his leather jacket and heads toward the front door, his boots scuffing against the cracked pavement. “Alright, I need to check in with the guys inside. You coming?” His hand rests on the door handle, waiting.
“In a minute,” I reply, still lost in thought as I lean against the rough brick wall.
“Don’t stay out here brooding too long. We’ve got work to do.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, but I can hear the underlying urgency, too.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I call after him as he disappears into the clubhouse.
As the door swings shut behind him with a muted thud, I let out a slow breath that hangs visibly in the cooling air. The night has settled in properly now, and a persistent chill seeps through my thin cotton shirt, raising goosebumps along my arms. I light another cigarette and watch the tip glow amber in the dim light, the smoke curling lazily upward into the darkness.
I replay the conversation in my mind, irritation and gratitude mingling with unease. Priest means well—he always has. He’s been like a brother to me since I joined the Destroyers, guiding me through the ranks and trusting me when few others did.
But he doesn’t understand; he can’t understand. Losing Becca wasn’t just a tragedy—it was a lesson. A brutal, unforgiving reminder of what happens when you let your guard down. Some wounds never truly heal; they just become part of who you are, a constant ache that shapes every decision you make thereafter.
Letting someone in again isn’t an option. It complicates things and makes you vulnerable in ways that can’t be defended against. And vulnerability gets you killed in this life—I’ve seen it happen too many times. I’ve watched good people fall because they trusted too much, because they cared too deeply. The world we live in doesn’t forgive that kind of weakness, and neither do I. Not anymore.
Still, thoughts of Lucrezia creep in at the edges of my mind, unwanted but persistent. The determination in her eyes, the way she stood her ground without flinching, even when faced with impossible odds. There’s a fire in her that’s hard to ignore, a strength that resonates with something deep inside me that I thought I’d buried years ago.
But I push the thoughts aside with practiced discipline. Focus is what I need now, not distractions. Dismantling Saverio’s operation is risky, maybe even suicidal, but the potential payoff is huge. It could change everything for the club and give us the leverage we’ve been searching for all these years. One decisive strike could tip the balance of power in our favor.