Chapter Ten
Olivia
I’m sitting in the window seat of the bedroom with my knees tucked to my chest, waiting for Bully to get out of church.
I fucked up, I know I did, but surely it was just a coincidence Dagger was there.
Maybe it was him who was under attack? Because if it was the Scorpions like Boss said, then why didn’t he take me?
Or at least hurt me? I shudder, remembering the way his eyes pierced mine, and then I find myself smiling. Bria’s right, it was hot.
The door opens and Bully enters, his head lowered.
It shuts behind him with a heavy click, like it’s feeding off his mood.
I watch as he shrugs from his kutte and throws it over the chair.
The silence between us is thick and heavy, like everything we just said outside that bar is waiting here, hanging between us.
“You’re mad,” I say, dropping my feet to the floor and curling my fingers over the edge of the window seat.
“I’m trying not to be,” he mutters, still avoiding looking at me.
I scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He runs a hand through his hair. It’s already messed, like he’s done it a thousand times. A sure sign he’s stressed. “I thought you were dead, Liv.”
“I didn’t think—”
“No,” he snaps, cutting me off. “You didn’t. You turned your phone off. You left the club, knowing damn well the Scorpions have been circling. And for what? A drink with ‘your girls’.”
I resent the way he says ‘girls’, like I’m a child, and I bristle at his words. “If he wanted to hurt me, he’s had plenty of chances.”
He arches a brow, flexing his fingers like he’s fighting not to grab me and shake some sense into me. “Are you trying to fucking piss me off?” he asks, his tone dangerously low. “What does that even mean, Liv? Is there shit I should know?”
I groan. “No, of course not. Look, I don’t want to be locked away here. I want my normal life, the one I had before you got out.”
“There is no normal anymore,” he yells, slamming his palm against the wall. “Not when you’re the old lady to the President. You’re a target, Liv, whether you like it or not.”
I flinch. “What are you saying, Bully? That I can never go out? Never see my friends?”
He takes a deep breath. “I’m just trying to keep you alive.”
I blink back the tears that balance dangerously on my lower lashes.
“I was scared tonight. When that shot first rang out, I couldn’t breathe.
I kept it together for Bria. I didn’t fall apart.
” He remains quiet, and I risk a step closer.
“But I need you to stop treating me like I already have. Like I can’t handle being at your side. ”
He takes my hands gently. “You were brave. But darlin’ . . . he touched you. He looked you in the eye and said those things because he wanted me to hear them in your voice.”
We stand in silence for a beat. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He pulls me against his chest, resting his chin on my head. “Just don’t make me go through that again. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”
“Things are moving so fast . . .” I begin.
He pulls back to look me in the eye. “Don’t start with the doubts again, Liv. I can’t take anymore.”
I see a flicker of vulnerability as his fingers dig into my arm, like he’s trying to convey how much I mean to him, how much he needs me.
“So much has changed,” I mutter, looking around the room.
“You’re on the top floor,” I add with a slight smile.
When I first started dating Bully, he had a room between Boss and Taz, a tag team of self-professed whores.
Their constant one-night stands kept me awake with cries of ecstasy or headboards banging either side of us.
It was hell. And now, we’re on the top floor in what’s basically a self-contained apartment.
“My parents were the last people to stay in here,” he mutters, glancing around.
“Hawk had it redecorated after Dad died, but he hated it up here, felt too far away from the others.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“I can’t say I blame him. It does feel weird being up here and away from the noise of the club. ”
“I like it,” I say. “And the music from the bar won’t keep me awake.”
He grins, wrapping his arms around my waist. “It’ll be perfect for when we have babies.”
I frown. We used to talk about marriage and kids, but once he got sent away, I put it to the back of my mind. “One day,” I say with a shrug.
“Soon,” he adds, running his fingers into my hair and tipping my head back. “Real soon.” He kisses me, stealing my breath.
“I’m on birth control,” I tell him, and he frowns. It’s not something he’s asked about, so I never thought to mention it until now, but the way his eyes are burning again, I can see it’s going to be an issue. I pull back to sit on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes.
“Why?”
“Because . . .”
“Liv, I’ve been inside for five years. Why the fuck are you on birth control?”
I roll my eyes, dropping my shoes on the floor and standing. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Bully.”
“So, why do I feel like it is?”
“I was having heavy periods. The doctor suggested the coil to help. Jesus, you have to make an issue out of everything,” I mutter, beginning to undress.
He watches, his eyes softening. “Well, when can you have it out?”
“I don’t want it out.”
“You do,” he says, sidling up to me with a smile. “I wanna fill you with babies.”
I roll my eyes, batting his hands away as he removes my bra. “So you can keep me here in your tower of bikers? No chance.”
He runs kisses over my collarbone. “No, so I can have lots of little Livs wrapping me round their fingers.” He groans against my neck. “Just thinking about you round with my baby makes me hard.”
“One day,” I say firmly. “But you have a war to fight, remember?”
Bully
The next day, church reeks of smoke and bloodlust. I stand at the head of the table, arms braced against the scarred wood. My kutte creaks under the strain of my tense shoulders. “All right,” I say. “Let’s get everything we’ve got. Lay it out.”
Boss clicks the laptop, and the projector hums to life, casting a grainy image of Dagger’s face on the wall. Even in a still photo, he looks smug.
“Dagger. President of the Scorpions. Before that, an enforcer. Smart operator. Doesn’t drink on runs, doesn’t screw around in public, doesn’t get caught,” Boss says.
“Military?” I ask.
“Not officially, but he moves like it.”
Whizz speaks up from the corner. “His enforcer is ex-Forces for sure. Viper. Honourable discharge, then went ghost for a while. Shows up again in a weapons ring out of Manchester.”
“Tech?” I ask.
“Patch,” says Brains, flipping through his notes. “Quiet, weird. Good with burners. We know he reroutes calls through six countries before they hit a SIM card. Same guy handles their accounts, too.”
“They got an auto shop just outside of Notts in Mansfield,” adds Stretch. “And a strip joint there too. Laundering front, cash-heavy. I’ve got eyes on both.”
Ragnar leans forward, tattoos catching the light.
“Their street crew’s getting louder. Word is they’ve taken over two corners from local dealers.
If they’re not careful, they’ll have more wars.
I’ve already had two big timers call me for backup, Pres.
We made the deal with them to run the drugs as long as they were cutting clean.
Now, they’re calling for our protection. ”
Tally sneers. “They’re not expanding cos they’re smart. They’re expanding cos they think they can take us.”
Smiler lights a smoke and exhales slow. “Yeah, but none of that explains why Dagger walked into that bar himself. Presidents don’t do grunt work. Not unless it’s personal.”
The room falls silent. That’s what’s been chewing at me since Liv told me. He didn’t send a soldier. He went in alone. Found her. Touched her face. Whispered that she was a ‘good girl’ like he’d known her his whole damn life.
And he let her walk out.
“Maybe he’s fixated on Liv,” says Lords. “Wants to rattle you.”
“That’s a death wish,” mutters Taz.
But Boss frowns. “Nah. This wasn’t a stalker play. He wasn’t trying to keep her. He was trying to send a message. Not just to you, to all of us.”
I slam my palm against the table. “Then what the fuck’s he trying to say?”
No one answers. There’s just the hum of the projector and the quiet hiss of Smiler’s cigarette. “Could be grief,” says Brains quietly. “We’ve seen it before. A death that twists someone up, turns it into a vendetta. Could be we missed something. Something old.”
“Like what?”
He shrugs. “No names in the system. But if he lost someone and thinks we had a hand in it . . .”
I straighten and my jaw tenses. “I’d know,” I snap. But deep down, I’m not so sure. “Keep digging,” I bark. “Check old prison records. Smiler, you said he had an ex, find out about her. Or any woman tied to him, even family, whatever. Find out who she was and if she crossed our path.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Taz mutters under his breath.
“That he didn’t go there for Liv. He went there because of me.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t even know what I did.” I check my watch. “We meet out front at one. a.m. No excuses. Ready to roll out.”
The bass thumps through the pavement like a heartbeat trying too hard. Outside, the neon sign flickers “Venom” in cracked red light.
I nod once, and the van rolls to the curb, no headlights.
“Taz, Smiler, Ragnar, Stretch, and Lords, you’re in with me,” I instruct. “Boss and Whizz, run distraction at the back.”
The power grid is ready to go, and a jammer blocking the place from pinging for help has been set up. No one’s getting out until we’re done.
“Keep it clean,” I mutter, strapping on my gloves. “No bodies. This is a message, not a war cry.”
Smiler smirks. “What’s the message?”
I look up at the building, jaw tight. “You got close. Now, we’re closer.”
Taz kicks the service door in. The bouncer barely gets a blink before Ragnar drops him with a taser and drags him out the way.
Inside, it’s red lights and a stale stench of sex.
Whizz kills the power, and the music stops.
The perfect sound of chaos fills the air—girls screaming, clients panicking, mixed with our heavy boots.
Stretch heads to the DJ booth and starts the playlist we brought. “Can’t Stop” by Red Hot Chili Peppers blasts out, bringing a smile to my face.
I walk straight to the office. Dagger’s not here—we knew he wouldn’t be—but we’re not here for him. The office reeks of stale cigars and leather polish. His chair spins slowly, abandoned.
I plant the crowbar into the desk drawers while Taz checks the safe. There’s nothing but cash and a loaded Glock, all untouched.
“Don’t take the money,” I say. “Leave it. Let them wonder why we didn’t.”
I grab a photo off the wall, a framed picture of Dagger and his crew raising drinks around this very room. I slam it to the floor, shattering glass across the carpet.
“Tag it,” I order.
Smiler steps up, pulls a can of spray paint from his jacket, and scrawls across the wall in thick black letters:
YOU MISSED. WE WON’T.
Stretch pours petrol over the broken glass and office floor, just enough to burn but not enough to kill. We’re halfway down the stairs when Boss radios in.
“Security feeds are scrubbed. Time to roll.”
I take one last look over the club, red lights blinking, girls huddled near the exit, bouncers on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Good. They’ll remember the fear.
I flick the lighter and toss it over the railing. It lands with a whumpf, fire crawling fast across the floor like it’s hungry.
We’re out and gone in sixty seconds. Our van pulls away without a trace, just as the first plume of smoke rises into the sky.
In the rearview mirror, Taz grins. “Think he’ll get the message this time?”
I stare ahead, fists clenched. “No, but maybe he’ll be tempted to fill us in on why he’s coming for us . . . or me.”
The club is quiet when we return. Not the peaceful kind, the waiting kind. Like the walls know we’ve done something tonight, and now, they’re holding their breath for the fallout. Because there will be more retaliation, more nights like this one.
I head upstairs to my floor and toe off my boots at the door.
I creep into the bedroom and shrug off my kutte, careful not to wake Liv.
The scent of smoke clings to me, bitter and sharp, but all I want to do is feel her against me.
The moonlight spills across the bed, catching on Liv’s bare shoulder where the blankets have slipped down.
She’s curled up on my side, peaceful, blissfully unaware of the storm surrounding her.
I strip off silently and slip beneath the sheets. She stirs as I slide behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into me. I hum in pleasure as her soft, warm body presses against my own.
“Bully?” she whispers, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Yeah, baby,” I murmur against her hair.
“Where were you?”
I press a kiss to the back of her neck, fingers brushing her stomach. “Handling shit.”
She doesn’t ask more. She knows better. But I feel her body tense, just for a second, like she knows exactly who it involved. I hold her tighter.
She turns in my arms, her hand sliding up to rest against my chest. Her fingers find the rhythm of my heart. “You smell like fire,” she murmurs. “You didn’t retaliate, did you?”
I close my eyes. “Sleep,” I whisper.
“You can change this place, Bully. It’s your chance to make it different. Safe.”
I don't answer. Deep down, part of the addiction to this life is the danger. But sitting back and letting Dagger touch my old lady, breathe the same air as her, is like inviting him in to take everything that’s mine.
Personal or not, if I sit back and stay quiet, he’ll just keep coming until the only thing my club has left is the tattoo on our backs.