Chapter 14
The night air was thick with the scent of oil, gunpowder, and death. The low growl of engines cut through the silence as the Wolverines, the Blood Fangs, the Iron Claws, and the Black Reapers descended upon the Shadow Riders' clubhouse like a storm.
This wasn’t just a fight. This was an execution. The first shot rang out like a crack of thunder. Then all hell broke loose.
The Wolverines hit hard and fast, leading the charge as bullets tore through the darkness. Engines roared. Tires screeched. Gunfire erupted from the clubhouse as the Shadow Riders scrambled to defend themselves.
King’s voice was a snarl over the radio.
“Stick to the plan. Wolverines, front and centre. Blood Fangs, push from the west. Iron Claws, take the east. Black Reapers, don’t let anyone out the back.”
Goliath gripped the handles of his bike, his wolf raging beneath his skin. He wasn’t here for bloodlust—he was here to end this.
They rode in hard, bullets spraying, the roar of their bikes a war cry. Goliath leapt from his ride before it even fully stopped, a shotgun raised as he fired at the first bastard stupid enough to run at him. The force sent the man flying, his chest exploding in a spray of red.
The Blood Fangs came in like savages, their style raw and brutal, bodies slamming into enemy ranks like battering rams. Ronan himself was a beast, breaking necks with his bare hands, his men ripping through the opposition like wolves tearing into a fresh kill.
On the east side, Viper and the Iron Claws moved like ghosts. They were calm, precise, deadly, slipping in and out of the shadows, knives slitting throats before the victims even knew they were dead.
The Black Reapers had one goal—containment. Mace and his crew didn’t fight fair. They set fire to the escape routes, forcing the Shadow Riders into the open, where they were gunned down like animals.
This was war, and they were winning. Goliath stormed through the chaos, his focus razor-sharp. He wasn’t interested in the foot soldiers. He wasn’t here for the men scrambling to save themselves.
He wanted one person. Grant. The Shadow Riders’ VP had made this personal.
Goliath ripped through the clubhouse, his boots crunching over bodies, his breath a ragged snarl. Every bone in his body burned with the need to end the bastard.
He kicked open a door, his gun raised—empty room. Another door—clear.
Then, down the hallway, a voice. A familiar one.
“Motherfucker—”
Goliath turned the corner just in time to see Grant trying to escape through a side entrance. Coward. With a roar, Goliath launched forward, tackling Grant from behind. They went down hard, rolling across the ground in a tangle of fists and fury.
Grant swung first—a mistake. Goliath caught his wrist, twisting it until something snapped. Grant howled, but Goliath didn’t stop. His fist collided with Grant’s face. Once. Twice.
Blood splattered against the dirt. This wasn’t a fight. This was a slaughter.
“You think you can run?” Goliath snarled, wrapping his hands around Grant’s throat, squeezing. “You think you can fucking hide?”
Grant choked, struggling, but Goliath didn’t let go.
Then—
“GOLIATH! STOP.”
King’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip. Goliath didn’t loosen his grip. Didn’t move, because nothing could pull him away from this kill. Except one word, one name.
“Sofia.” Goliath’s breath stilled. King stepped forward, his expression dark, his phone gripped tight in his hand.
“She’s missing.” Everything inside Goliath went still. No.
King kept his voice level, but the tension in his body was pure rage. “Dash just called. She’s gone. Taken.”
Goliath’s hands trembled where they gripped Grant’s throat. His wolf snarled, howled, raged.
“No.” The word came out low, dangerous.
“Dash and the others are looking for her,” King said.
That didn’t make sense. Goliath’s vision blurred red. His grip tightened. He was going to kill Grant. Rip him apart with his bare hands. But then—
King grabbed him, shoving him back. “We need him alive!”
Goliath let out a snarl, shoving King off. “He’s dead.”
“No, he’s not,” King snapped. “Not until we know who took her.” It took everything in Goliath to step back.
Grant coughed violently, blood running down his face, his eyes wide with terror. Goliath didn’t take his eyes off him. His fury raging through his blood.
“Where is she?”
Grant wheezed. “I—I don’t know.”
Goliath moved so fast that Grant barely had time to react. He grabbed a knife off his belt, slammed it into Grant’s thigh.
The man screamed. Goliath yanked the blade back out, shoving him against the ground. “You better start remembering real fucking fast.”
But even through the pain, Grant’s confusion was real. The bastard genuinely didn’t know. Which meant one thing. They were chasing the wrong enemy. The Shadow Riders were done. What was left of them? Dead. Broken. Scattered.
But none of it mattered anymore. Goliath stalked through the carnage, his breath ragged, his body thrumming with barely restrained violence.
Sofia was gone. His mate. His fucking mate.
And he hadn’t been there to protect her. King met his gaze, his own fury barely restrained. “We’re heading back now. We get to Dash, we find out what the fuck happened, and then we hunt.”
Goliath didn’t answer. Didn’t need to, because there was only one thing left in him now. A promise. To the men who took her. To the world that dared to keep her from him. He was coming, and there was nothing that would stop him.
Goliath lost it. The rage inside him detonated, white-hot and all-consuming. A roar tore from his throat, raw and animalistic, shaking the very ground beneath them.
His vision blurred red, his mind a singular, deadly focus—Grant. The bastard was right there. Still breathing. Still fucking existing, and that was unacceptable.
Goliath lunged, his massive hands reaching for Grant’s throat, intent on ripping the life out of him, but before his fingers could close around flesh, arms wrapped around him. Strong. Unyielding.
King. Fang. Dixon. Even Ronan threw himself into the fray, holding him back as he snarled, thrashed, fought to get free.
“LET ME GO!” Goliath’s voice was not human anymore. It was a beast’s snarl, full of murderous intent.
Grant scrambled back, panting, blood dribbling down his mouth.
“He doesn’t know!” King shouted in his ear. “You kill him, we lose our only fucking lead!” Goliath didn’t care. His body jerked violently, throwing Fang off balance, almost breaking free.
But then Hunter stepped in, his fist colliding with Goliath’s jaw—hard. For half a second, his vision went white. The impact snapped something loose in his brain, just enough for reason to flicker back.
His body stilled, breath ragged, shoulders heaving. His heart thundered in his chest, his wolf raging inside him, clawing, screaming to be set loose.
Sofia was gone. His mate, and he had wasted precious fucking time on the wrong enemy.
That single realization sliced through the haze of bloodlust, bringing him back to the present.
“Fuck this.” Without another word, Goliath shoved the men off him. He didn’t wait for orders. Didn’t check if anyone would follow. Grant would be questioned and then disposed of, he would leave it to his brothers to make sure that he didn’t threaten another woman every again.
He turned, stormed toward the nearest Harley, swung his leg over the seat. Engines were still rumbling, heat rising off the metal like steam. His pulsewas a live wire beneath his skin. He twisted the throttle—hard. The bike roared to life, tires skidding on dirt as he peeled out, leaving a spray of dust and rage in his wake.
He was heading for Dash, and when he got there, someone was giving him answers, or they were fucking dead.