Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
I took each corner a bit harder than I needed to, reveling at the sound of Tyler’s body bouncing around in the bed of my truck like a sack of potatoes. But every jolt, every muffled groan from the back, did little to soothe the fury still boiling in my veins.
The image burned behind my eyes. Kenna’s face pale with fear, her eyes wildly darting between me and Hatchet with a plea for one of us to save her. Her throat reddening under Tyler’s grip. His fucking gun aimed at her temple.
I insisted for weeks—to myself and Reaper, when he pressed—that Kenna was just a friend. But watching Tyler threaten to end her? It wasn't rage I felt first. It was fear. Cold, gut-churning fear. In one horrible moment, I realized what I stood to lose.
I’d lied to myself since the moment I met Kenna.
And when she ran to Hatchet, it stung. Not because I wanted her to run to me—OK, maybe a little—but because it reminded me how much Hatchet cared for her, too.
And I’d seen the way she looked at him. The way she trusted him.
The way her eyes lit up when he walked into a room.
But what stung worse was the way she’d looked at me after I’d beaten Tyler to a pulp.
The flicker of horror in her eyes. I’d seen it before, in the faces of men who realized too late what I was capable of.
But Kenna? She wasn’t supposed to see that side of me.
She wasn’t supposed to know how deep the darkness went.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
If Hatchet hadn’t yelled, if he hadn’t pulled me back with her name, I might’ve killed Tyler right there. She’d have seen the monster I kept chained up.
She might not trust me for a long time. Hell, considering what she saw, that trust might already be shattered beyond repair.
The rusted junkyard gates loomed ahead. I killed the headlights and rolled into the shadows of the warehouse, the tires crunching over broken glass. Tyler’s whimpering grated on my last nerve.
I threw the truck into park and stormed to the bed, yanking him out by his collar. He hit the ground hard, blood dripping from his busted face and the bullet wound in his leg onto the concrete.
The warehouse swallowed the sound, the air thick with the stink of decay. I stared down at him, my hands still trembling with adrenaline. Not from the violence—that was easy. From the truth I couldn’t outrun anymore.
I was falling for Kenna, and I wasn’t sure what that meant.
For me or Hatchet. I’d seen the way he looked at her, and I wouldn’t get between my brother and a girl—especially since she might be the only one who could get him to settle down.
I’d have to bury my feelings for her beneath my loyalty to him and the club.
After seeing the monster within me, she’d never fall for me. No, she’d seen the truth—the violence, the dark rage, the part of me that could snap a man in half and not lose sleep.
I grabbed Tyler by the scruff of his neck and dragged him into the warehouse. My muscles strained against his dead weight. I grunted at the effort, but my heart was heavier. My mind steeled itself as I considered the girl I couldn’t have, and the brother I wouldn’t betray.
I sat Tyler in a heavy metal chair, leaning his upper body awkwardly against the back. He slumped, still knocked out from the rough ride over. I must have taken one of the turns hard enough that he hit his head. Chains clinked as I pulled them from the wall.
I could’ve used zip ties, but I liked the sound of metal links rattling and how the weight of them against a man’s chest made the point clear: there was no escape.
I wrapped the chains around Tyler’s wrists and ankles, securing him to the chair.
I laid out my tools on a nearby table—bolt cutters, knives, pliers, a hammer, a blow torch, and a bone saw.
I pulled my favorite blade from my hip, gripping the smooth rosewood handle and running a finger down the water-like patterns swirling along the edge.
The door creaked open, and Reaper stepped inside, his expression unreadable in the dim light. I glanced up, a question in my eyes.
“Eva’s got Kenna. She’ll text if anything’s wrong. She’s the right person to help her process what just happened. She knows how to answer the questions Kenna will have about how we’ll handle this.”
I nodded, my jaw tight. “Good.”
Reaper hesitated, then crossed his arms. “You all right?”
I kept my eyes on the tools, my voice flat. “Fine.”
Reaper didn’t let up. “You sure? Because you looked ready to tear Tyler apart with your bare hands. And not just for the club. I know you and Kenna—”
I slammed a fist down on the table, the sound echoing through the warehouse. “There is no me and Kenna. Got it? I’m not about to let some woman compromise the club.”
Reaper opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but before he could, the door swung open again. Hatchet walked in, his face grim, his eyes scanning the scene. I shot Reaper a glare—a “shut your fucking mouth”—and he gave a barely perceptible nod.
At that moment, Tyler began to stir, his head lolling as he came to. His eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly giving way to fear as he took in the chains, the tools, and the three of us standing over him.
I leaned in close, my voice a low growl. “Welcome back, asshole. We’ve got questions.”
Hatchet leaned against the table beside me.
Tyler looked like hell. Blood poured from his busted face, and his leg bled where I’d shot him. I’d half-assed a tourniquet around the wound to slow the bleeding earlier, but his skin had already ashened from the blood loss. He tried to shift, but the chains held him tight.
I crouched down, getting right in his face. “Why were you meeting with a fed this morning?”
He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “I didn’t have a choice.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Bullshit. Hatchet?”
My best friend grinned and pulled his hatchet from his belt loop. He threw it in the air and caught it by the handle. I rolled my eyes. Fucking dramatics every time.
“How about your trigger finger?” Hatchet said as he admired the sharp edge of his weapon. “After all, you were going to shoot my girl.”
Tyler screamed as Hatchet held his hand against the arm of the chair and sliced his pointer finger clean off. In his haste, he hit part of Tyler’s middle finger, leaving it dangling by a thread of skin.
“We have all fucking night, but I have shit to do,” I said in a bored tone, pressing down the anxious knot in my gut as I worried about what Kenna would think about what we were about to do.
“From now on, you answer questions in detail, or I’ll cut every finger off with a dull spoon before moving to your toes. ”
Tyler gasped, pain making his voice shaky. “I’ve been meeting the feds for months. They recruited me after I failed the bar. Said my ties to the club made me valuable. Said I could be an agent, go undercover—”
“How long? How long have you been a rat?”
“Since I moved back,” he whispered. “It’s why I took the job with Reaper and became a prospect. She promised a letter of recommendation that would guarantee me a shot at Quantico.”
I stared at him. Disgust curled in my chest. Our fathers had founded this club together. The Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club stood because of their blood and sweat. Tyler had betrayed their legacy for a shot at a fucking badge.
Hatchet picked up the pliers, clicking them together with a menacing sound that made Tyler flinch. “What have you told them?”
Tyler shook his head, and panic flashed in his eyes. Hatchet didn’t waste time with threats. He gripped Tyler’s hand and pried one nail up. Tyler howled, blood pooling under the jagged nail bed.
“You feel like talking yet?” Hatchet asked. “Want to tell us what you told the feds?”
“Nothing that would put anyone away, I swear! Just little things. Routines, names, that kind of thing. They wanted dirt on Reaper. They think he’s using his construction business to launder money.”
I clenched my fists. The urge to end him was strong. But I knew what killing a fed’s informant would mean. The FBI would come down on us like a sledgehammer, and the club would pay.
I turned back to Tyler, my voice low. “You risked all of us for a badge? Your brothers? Their fucking families?”
He looked at me, desperation in his eyes. “I wanted out. I wanted more than this fucking club. When my dad died, it was all he had. He left everything to the club. The FBI offered me a chance to get a real job, a life.”
Reaper laughed. The dark, humorless sound echoed across the bare walls. “Your dad is rolling in his grave. The man was a loyal Maverick, through and through. He’d be ashamed of what you’ve become.”
Fury twisted Tyler’s face. “You all talk of loyalty. But where was that when my dad was passed over for president after Maxwell died? He was the VP. He co-founded the club. He should have been next. Instead, you fuckers voted in Thane.”
I stepped closer. “You were a fucking child. You don’t know what it was like back then. The club was living in the past. We needed Thane’s leadership to change our direction, or the club would have crumbled. Your dad knew that. He respected the vote.”
Tyler’s jaw worked. “You’re going to kill me.” Resignation sounded through his voice.
“Right now, we’re going to let you sit,” Reaper said. “No food, no water. The officers will meet and decide what happens next. Hatchet, get a prospect here to keep an eye on him. I’ll call Church.”
Hatchet nodded, shoving the table of tools aside. “You’re lucky, Tyler. If it were my call, you’d already be in pieces.”
I locked eyes with Tyler, letting him see the promise in my gaze. “You better hope the club is feeling merciful. Because if it were up to me, you wouldn’t see another sunrise.”
I turned away, leaving Tyler chained in the darkness.