Chapter 23
Heresy
Back at the Lair, the steady rumble of bikes filled the air, drowning out the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me since leaving Salem back at that old, cursed farmhouse. It was a week ‘til Halloween, but the storm from that night still sat heavy on my chest—not just the one outside, but the one brewing between me and her.
Inside, the familiar stench of leather, smoke, and cheap whiskey hit me like a brick. The brothers were scattered around like always, doing their thing. Boiler and Riptide were at the bar, laughing their asses off about something only they found funny. Smoke was over by the dartboard, his eyes locked in like he was playing for his life, acting like the past wasn’t sitting heavy on him like it was on me.
But hell, it wasn’t just the past, it was Salem. She had this hold on me, one I couldn’t shake, and it was starting to piss me off.
I slipped into a dark corner, needing space to think. Needed to figure out what the hell I was doing playing both sides of this truce. That peace with the Heelz was fragile, like glass just waiting to shatter. I was walking a fine line with my brothers, especially since we’d made a pact without my Prez to never fall for one of them Hell on Heelz women. And here I was, breaking that vow with every breath. And then protecting Salem from my brothers, I was taking orders from Prez, too.
“Hey, Heresy,” a voice cut through the noise, dragging me outta my thoughts.
I didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Diana. Trouble, with a capital T. Her smirk was as sharp as a knife, and it was never good news when she came around.
“Diana,” I muttered, not bothering to hide my annoyance. I wasn’t in the mood for her games.
She strutted over, eyes gleaming like she's hiding something. “Saw you slipping out last night,” she said, leaning in close enough for me to catch the overpowering scent of her perfume. “Rumor has it, big bad Heresy’s messin’ around with a Heelz prospect.”
My jaw tightened. I kept my face blank, but inside I was ready to tear something apart. “Don’t know what the hell you're talkin' about.”
Her grin widened like a snake about to strike. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I followed you. I know exactly who you were with.”
My hand tightened at my side. If she knew, I was screwed.
“And you know my brother Cutter's been dyin’ to get somethin' on you, right? Imagine what he’d do with a little info like that. You playin’ house with a Heelz girl? That’s the kinda dirt he’s been waitin’ for.”
I locked eyes with her, my voice low and dangerous. “What do you want, Diana?”
She smiled like a cat with a cornered mouse, her fingers trailing up my chest like she owned me. “Take me to the Halloween party at the Roost,” she said, her voice sugar-sweet but deadly underneath.
I stared at her, my temper flaring. “You think I’d walk into a Heelz party with you? You’re outta your goddamn mind.”
She laughed, cold and sharp. “You don’t want me spillin' the beans to Cutter, do you? ‘Cause if I do, it won’t just be you in trouble. You know what those Slayers will do to your little Heelz girl if they find out, don’t ya?”
I knew damn well what would happen. My brothers had sworn we wouldn’t keep the truce, so if they found out I’d been rolling around with one of the Heelz, like Prez. all bets were off. And it wasn’t just my ass on the line—Salem would be in danger too. Hell, Cutter would love nothing more than to rip us both apart.
“So,” she said, her eyes glinting with victory. “You gonna be my date, or am I gonna have to make a little phone call?”
I glared at her, my blood boiling'. “You’ll regret this.”
She laughed again, strutting away like she’d won some big prize, leaving me standing there with a storm raging inside me that I couldn’t control.
The Lair suddenly felt too small, too loud, too fucking suffocating. I needed air. I needed to figure out how the hell I was gonna get outta this mess before it blew up in both our faces.
As I headed for the door, one thing was clear—this wasn’t just about me anymore. I had to protect Salem. Even if it meant walking straight into hell to do it.
The Halloween party felt so intense, like something was about to go down. I came in with Diana clinging to my arm like a damn snake. I knew walking in the Roost with her was a mistake, but I didn't have a choice. And as soon as I saw Salem disappear into the crowd, I knew something was off. Real off.
I leaned against the wall near the back entrance, trying to stay clear of the chaos and noise, my eyes tracking the room, searching for her. The energy in the place was electric, but not in a good way. My gut was twisting, telling me shit was about to hit the fan.
What the hell was wrong with me? I hadn’t been right since that night in the farmhouse. I was on edge.
Then I spotted her.
Salem stormed out of the bar, her face flushed, fists clenched tight like she was ready to break something—or someone. Her hair was wild, falling in her face, but I could still see that fire in her eyes. And it wasn’t good.
“What the hell, Salem? What’s goin’ on?” I pushed off the wall, my stomach churning. This wasn’t just party drama—this was something worse.
Without a word, she bolted.
I didn’t think, just followed. Kept my distance, but close enough that if something went down, I’d be right there. She rounded the corner into one of the back hallways, far away from the party noise. It was quieter here, but the tension between us didn’t ease up one bit.
Before I could call her name, she spun around, eyes locking onto me, burning with anger.
“What the hell, Heresy?” she spat, her voice sharp and cutting. “You followin' me?”
“Damn right I am,” I growled back, stepping closer. “Now tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on.”
She stood there, breathing hard, like she was fighting a war inside her own head. Her chest rose and fell quick, eyes darting down the hall like she expected something bad to jump out any second.
“I ran into someone,” she finally said, her voice tight. “Diana. Your... date. She knows.”
The second that name hit the air, it felt like a switch flipped inside me. Diana. Of course. Fuckin' Diana.
“What did she say to you?” I asked, my voice harder now, already knowing where this was heading.
“She knows about us. About... whatever this is.” She waved a hand between us, but her voice was cold, steady. “And she’s ready to blow the whole damn thing wide open.”
Fuck. “That bitch.”
“Yeah, well, now you’re neck-deep in it. If the Hell on Heelz find out, I’m done. And if the Slayers hear about this?” She paused, looking straight at me. “You’re as good as dead.”
She wasn’t wrong. My brothers wouldn’t take this lightly. And Salem... she’d be caught right in the middle.
I started to reply, but that's when I heard it—the low rumble outside. Subtle at first, but then it grew louder. Too loud to ignore.
Fuck.
Without thinking, I grabbed Salem’s arm, pulling her further down the hallway, instincts screaming that something bad was coming. And then the doors burst open.
“Heresy!” Cutter’s voice sliced through the air, full of venom.
Goddamn it.
Salem stiffened beside me, ready for a fight. I turned to face the oncoming storm. Cutter wasn’t alone. He had Trigger and Ghost with him—two of the meanest sons of bitches in the Slayers. Their eyes locked on Salem, then flicked to me. The look in their eyes was pure rage, pure betrayal.
“What the fuck is this?” Cutter spat, stepping forward, eyes darting between me and Salem. “You breakin' our pact for a Heelz girl?”
I stepped in front of Salem, not giving a damn about the consequences. “It’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think?” Cutter laughed, but it was a cold, bitter sound. “Looks like betrayal to me, Heresy. That’s what it fuckin’ looks like.”
Salem started to move beside me, but I pushed her back gently. This wasn’t her fight—not yet.
“We made a pact,” Cutter growled, stepping closer. “You know what happens to traitors.”
“Back off,” I warned, my voice low, controlled, but ready to break if I needed to.
Cutter didn’t listen—he never did. His eyes flicked to Salem, hatred boiling over. The unspoken rule of never messing with a Heelz girl was sacred to him, more sacred than any damn truce our Prez had called. I’d crossed that line, and he wasn’t letting it go.
Before I could react, he swung. His fist crashed into my jaw, knocking me back a step. But I didn’t fall. Instead, I came right back, throwing a punch straight into his gut.
Salem screamed, and before I knew it, Trigger and Ghost were jumping in, turning this into a full-on brawl. Fists flying, blood spilling. The kind of shit we tried to avoid, but now it was happening right in front of us.
Then the doors crashed open again.
Rage and Razor stormed in, followed by the rest of the Hell on Heelz and the Slayers who’d ridden in with Cutter. It wasn’t just a confrontation anymore—it was about to turn into an all-out war.
Before I could react, Razor slammed into Trigger, knocking him to the floor and landing a brutal kick to his ribs. Cutter swung again, but I caught his arm, twisting it behind his back with all the strength I had.
“Enough!” I shouted, trying to cut through the chaos. “We’re on the same side now! Truce, remember?”
But it was too late. The violence had already spilled over, and there was no stopping it. Salem stood beside me, her eyes blazing with fury, ready to fight if it came to that.
I grabbed her arm. “You need to get the hell outta here.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she snapped, defiant as always.
“This ain’t the time to be a hero, Salem,” I warned, but before I could push her back, Cutter broke free, shoving me hard.
I caught my balance just in time to see Rage and Razor squaring off against the other Slayers.
Shit was about to get a whole lot worse.
Then, outta nowhere, the sound of sirens cut through the chaos, loud and shrill.
Everyone froze.
“Cops,” I muttered, wiping blood from my mouth. “We need to get the hell outta here.”
I glanced at Salem—her face was flushed, her breathing heavy, but her eyes were locked on mine.
“This ain’t over,” I told her, my voice low.
She nodded, her gaze burning into mine. “Damn right it’s not.”