Chapter Eleven
Olivia
The smell of coffee and bacon grease hits me before I even reach the kitchen. Bria trails behind, yawning.
The kitchen’s already crowded. A couple club girls are perched on countertops, giggling over something on a phone.
Poodle’s flipping pancakes like she’s mad at them.
I spot her immediately. Poison. Her bleach-blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders, her lips dripping in gloss.
She’s sitting away from the rest, tapping away on her mobile with a slight smirk on her face.
Bria gives me a shove forward, reminding me why I woke her to come down here with me. It’s not that I’m scared of the club whores, but I need to show them I’m in charge around here now. It’s club rules one-o-one.
As I step into the kitchen farther, she glances up, her smile fading. She’s probably trying to work out what my game is, because it’s pretty clear she thinks she’s in charge around here. “Morning, ladies,” I say, keeping my tone bright. “Sleep well?” I ask as I grab the coffee pot.
“Define sleep,” mutters Poodle, taking the pancake stack to the table, the plate thudding as she slams it down. “And this is my third day in a row of doing breakfast,” she adds, her tone exasperated.
“Quit whining,” snaps Poison.
“Who’s turn was it today?” I ask, filling Bria’s cup too.
Poodle glances in Poison’s direction but doesn’t answer. Her look tells me enough. “Maybe you need a rota,” I suggest. The scoff from where Poison remains seated gets my attention. “You don’t agree?”
“We work things out between ourselves,” she spits.
“Besides, don’t you have enough to worry about with your man setting the city ablaze for you?
” I narrow my eyes, and she smiles wide, realising I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“I guess he didn’t tell you about his little midnight trip over to Mansfield? ”
“It’s not our business what the men do,” I say through gritted teeth, pissed that she clearly knows something I don’t.
She shrugs. “I just think your time would be better taking care of our President than interfering in what we get up to.”
“I’m the President’s old lady,” I say firmly. “That means I’ve got a role here, keeping things in check. Starting with the club whores.”
She arches a brow, the smirk already spreading. “Oh? So, now, you think you’re in charge?” She laughs. “We don’t need a pimp.”
“Enough,” snaps Bria. “Show some fucking respect, unless you want this getting back to Bully.”
The smirk twists cruel. She pushes to her feet slowly, like she’s got all day to play this game. “You think the Pres has time for bitchy squabbles?” she asks. “Last night, the Scorpions’ strip joint went up like a matchbox, all in the name of his old lady.”
“Shut your mouth,” Bria hisses. We all know the bikers would lose their shit if they heard us talking club business.
“Imagine causing all this heat,” she says lightly, eyes gleaming as they lock on me. “How long will it be before you get him killed?”
“This wasn’t because of me,” I snap, my heart pounding.
She tilts her head. “Oh, baby, open your eyes. He torched that place for you. He dragged the club into war, all because you needed his attention.”
“What?” My blood runs cold.
“We all know that’s why you started talking to Dagger. Pres wasn’t falling at your feet when he got out, so you just had to get his attention. What better way than to pick a guy he can’t back down from?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. For a split second, the room feels too small, like the air’s been sucked out of it and left behind a vacuum full of judgment.
Bria’s already in motion, stepping between us. “Say one more thing,” she warns, her voice sharp enough to cut, “and I swear to god, you’ll be picking your teeth off the floor.”
I barely hear her. My mind races with protest, hating that the entire club might think I’ve been playing some kind of game.
I haven’t. I didn’t even know who Dagger was when Bria dragged him over to cheer me up.
And that’s all I wanted, a distraction. A reason to forget Bully.
I never wanted any of this, least of all a war.
“So, like I said, take care of the Pres, cos who knows what could happen if he gets distracted.”
My head snaps up to meet her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Yeah, Poison, what does that mean?” asks Birdy. “It sounded like a threat.”
“I’m just saying, we all know what Bully is like, right? If she doesn’t take care of his needs when he’s so stressed, he might get . . . distracted.” She smirks. “And I, for one, am happy to step in and help when he requests it.” She saunters past me, knocking her shoulder into mine as she passes.
“Bully needs to know about this,” says Bria firmly.
“No,” I snap before she can stomp off. “I’ll deal with it.
” I look the rest of the women in the eye before adding, “I didn’t do any of this on purpose.
” They remain silent. “Poodle, draw up a fair rota. One that means Poison pulls her weight, because if she doesn’t start to, she’s out. ” And I turn on my heel and leave.
I break out into the sunshine and inhale until my lungs stretch painfully full then release it slow. My pulse begins to settle, but the unease lingers. It’s too quiet out here.
The clubhouse sits deep in an industrial compound, the kind of place only lorries find, parking up to sleep off long-haul hours. Normally, the silence brings peace. Today, it feels like a warning.
I slip around the back of the building, out of sight from the road. The weight in my chest still hasn’t lifted. I sink down beneath a tree, knees pulled close, and try to untangle the mess inside my head.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Darren. Shit. I forgot he had my number. I hesitate before unlocking it.
Darren: Don’t freak out. I just wanted to check you’re okay.
I stare at the message, heart thudding again. It doesn’t read like a threat, but I know I should show Bully. Before I can stand, another one comes through.
Darren: This was never about you, Olivia. I’m sorry you’re caught up in it.
My thumb hovers over the reply. I shouldn’t answer. I know I shouldn’t.
But after what Poison said . . . maybe I need to hear it from someone else. Someone who might actually tell me the truth.
Me: Did you know who I was right from the beginning?
His reply is instant.
Darren: Yes.
The air catches in my throat. I’d expected him to lie. Or maybe I’d hoped this was some awful accident, that I was just a coincidence.
Me: So this whole time, you were using me to get to him?
Darren: No.
Me: Then what was the plan? Because right now, I feel like I’ve fucked up everything.
Darren: You were never the target, Olivia. Know that. And I won’t let anything bad happen to you.
Me: Who is the target?
A pause.
Darren: I think we both know the answer to that. Someone like you shouldn’t be in this life. If he cared about you, he’d let you go.
I stare at the screen, my pulse thudding like a war drum.
Me: Hurting him will hurt me.
Darren: I know. That’s the part that makes this hard.
But sometimes people need to be hurt to see the truth.
You’re protecting a man who doesn’t deserve it.
He leaves a trail of wreckage behind him, Olivia.
You just haven’t seen it all yet. You will.
And when you do, I hope you remember I tried to warn you.
Bully
The sun’s out, but it doesn’t touch the chill riding up my spine. Liv bolted out the clubhouse like her skin didn’t fit right, and I gave her space because Bria asked me to. I left her to breathe, but five minutes turned to ten, and my gut began twisting like something was wrong.
I find her behind the building, tucked under the shade of a tree like she’s trying to disappear.
Her shoulders are hunched, phone in hand, and I’m close enough to see her thumbs fly across the screen.
I breathe a sigh of relief and take a step closer.
She doesn’t hear me, and I move until I’m behind the tree.
The name at the top of her screen catches my eye. Darren. I freeze, my blood roaring.
Her head dips, reading. She doesn’t even sense me behind her. That’s how deep in it she is. My jaw tightens as she types again, and another message flashes up before she can close the screen.
I hope you remember I tried to warn you.
That’s all I need to see. I reach forward and snatch the phone out her hands. She gasps and spins, wide-eyed.
“Bully—”
I don’t hear her. All I see is red. My hands are shaking, but I keep my voice low, deadly calm.
“How long has he been messaging you?”
She stares at me, frozen. Then, she softly says, “He was just checking in.”
“Checking in?” I repeat, as my own heartbeat pounds in my ears. I tilt the phone towards her. “This doesn’t look like checking in. This looks like a fuckin’ connection.”
“I was trying to find out what his problem is.”
I scan the messages, each one lighting another piece of rage inside me. “Jesus, Liv. You’re literally conversing with the fucking enemy,” I yell, unable to hide my anger.
“I was about to come and show you,” she mutters, barely a whisper.
“When?” I hiss, stepping forward so she’s forced to move back until her spine hits the tree. “After he laid out his next hit? After he twisted your head so far round, you didn’t know who the fuck you’re loyal to anymore?”
Her eyes flash with hurt. “I’m loyal to you.”
I exhale hard through my nose. My hands are still shaking. Rage and fear are bleeding together, making it hard to think straight.
I lower the phone, stepping in closer until my mouth is to her ear.
“In case I haven’t been clear, you’re not to talk to him again.
Delete his fucking number. Block him. Because next time, Liv .
. . next time I find out you’re in contact with the man who wants me dead .
. .” I let the sentence hang heavy with everything I’m not saying.