Chapter 2
Mia
“Thank you for coming,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time today.
My older brother Mason shakes hands with some distant friends of our family.
The number of people who have come out to say goodbye to our baby sister is staggering.
My brother has followed in my father’s footsteps.
He’s the Hounds of Hell’s Sergeant at Arms, so the entire club is here to show their respect.
Mason’s president, Gabriel Wolfe, and his wife Brinley have been helping with everything they can, along with his vice president, Sean, and his wife Layla.
The club members are somber, probably recalling the events that led us here.
They all know that two members of their rival club, the Disciples of Sin, put Nic in the crosshairs to revenge a business deal gone bad.
They all know that what happened to her is on both clubs’ hands.
And now, there is an intense sense of grief that stems from a rivalry older than I can remember.
My family has always hated the Disciples with a passion.
In my father’s time, they were known for shady deals, drugs and theft, and rumors used to fly that they were into human trafficking, but who knows if that’s true.
In the last couple years things have settled down a bit, and they have a new president, Aiden Foxx.
I’ve never met him, but Mason says he “isn’t like the old prez. ”
Which I doubt very much, since they have the same last name.
I look at my brother now; his blue eyes are bloodshot.
Mason’s a tough man. To the outside world, his heart is made of steel.
I don’t even want to know what those eyes have witnessed in this club.
He never cried when our father died, but when I called him to tell him that I’d found Nicola with a needle still in her arm, lifeless, he let out a gut-wrenching sob I’ll never be able to unhear. It still wakes me up at night.
Watching him hug my aunt now, my mind drifts and the same guilt rushes through me that has every day since Nicola died.
Because I live with a dark secret no one else knows.
There was another man there the night she was raped, and I’ve spent the last month since Nic and I rounded that corner on Main Street making a plan.
A plan that will lead me to the truth.
“I think I’ll probably add an art class too. I’ve been really enjoying pottery. It’s calming.”
Nic’s chatting away as we round the corner en route to her favorite bookstore.
It’s a clear day, and when a glint of chrome catches in the hot sun, I turn.
Harley-Davidson motorcycles line up in front of the Yard, our town’s most popular lunch spot and notorious hangout for the Disciples of Sin.
Just the sight of their cuts makes me want to punch something.
They’ll always be responsible for what happened to my sister.
My eyes drift over the group—wondering how they live with themselves—and that metal flashes again as we walk.
It belongs to a matte-black Harley with cherry-red detail in most places.
It’s in the threading of the seats, the custom design on the tank and the sides.
I let my eyes trail over the bike’s owner, my gaze hidden by dark sunglasses.
He’s relaxed, straddling the massive motorcycle as he talks on the phone, and I instantly hate him for what he represents. Yet, I…can’t bring myself to look away.
Wide, heavy shoulders lead to muscled arms, and he wears a worn-in, white T-shirt under his Disciples of Sin cut. Ink stretches over every inch of his skin, and although I shouldn’t want to look at him, it’s as if I don’t have a choice.
I’m pulled in by his dark grace. He’s all Viking. All power.
I watch as he tucks a lock of dark-blond hair back behind his ear; it’s thick, slightly wavy, and just reaches the nape of his muscular, inked neck.
His chiseled jaw is square and defined, covered in a darker scruff that enhances his rugged features.
His presence commands respect, and I instantly know he’s ranked. Maybe even highly ranked.
I watch as he inhales slowly from a cigarette perched low between his first two fingers. A feeling of forbidden want hits me unexpectedly at the sight, and I imagine his powerful body holding me steady, gripping my hips in those big hands while he fucks into me slowly on the back of his bike.
As if he can sense someone watching him, the man’s eyes lift, steely and blue, as he searches the immediate area. Sharp nails digging into my arm break my gaze, and I quickly turn my attention to my sister. She’s visibly shaking as she pulls me into a side street.
“Nic.” I question her terrified expression, taking off my sunglasses to look her in the eye.
“That cut. I remember… He was there,” she stutters.
“Who, Nic?”
“R-red…bike…” my sister says in a shaky voice. My stomach drops. “He’s by the red bike…” She points in the direction of the man I was just shamelessly staring at.
But there are at least five men around that red bike now, and two different cuts to choose from. Disciples of Sin and Wretched Souls. It could have been any one of them.
Even the one I couldn’t pull my eyes from.
Nic slinks to the ground, rocking back and forth as she whispers to herself.
“I don’t wanna die…”
My heart breaks as I crouch down to swipe her hair off her forehead and pull her close. She’s mumbling like she did in the hospital right after that night.
“Gator is gone, Nic, he’s gone,” I offer gently, trying to soothe her. Her attacks like this are fewer and farther between now, but when they hit, they are brutal.
“No… I thought…there were two…but there were three. I remember… I cut him… He said he was gonna kill me.”
“Okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now. No one is going to kill you, I promise,” I tell her, holding her close. She isn’t making any sense, but I don’t let go just yet.
“I wanna go home now, Emilia.” She uses my full name, and I start to panic. She’s shutting down.
“Why don’t we try to get dinner? Or I could stay with you, and we could watch a movie? I can call Dr. Rochester tomorrow and set up an extra appointment so you can talk this through.”
I look at her, hoping she’s being honest about being sober. She hides it well if she isn’t. But I don’t know how much grace to give—it’s a fine line between help and enabling.
“Okay… Yeah… A movie, let’s watch a movie,” she says, clutching at my hand. I pop my sunglasses back on and tighten my low ponytail.
I know she’s still in there, my sister, my best friend. I see glimpses of her when we laugh or when she talks about the future. When she talks about “after” as if it’s some mystical place she’ll find when she gets stronger.
We make our way out the back alley, avoiding the bikers, and I make a mental note to find out everything Nic remembers about the man she was referring to when she’s calmed down.
As much as I want to, I can’t push her for that information right now.
All I can do is get her home, reset, and try again tomorrow.
“Mia.” My mother interrupts my memory, her hand on my arm as she calls me by the nickname my father gave me.
I’ve relived Nic’s last day so many times since she died.
It’s what led me down the rabbit hole I’m stuck in now, how I learned all about the two clubs that could be responsible for her ruin.
It’s what drives me to discover the truth.
To gather the proof I need so my brother can gut the last demon who stood by and allowed Nicola to be brutally assaulted.
“Hmmm?” I answer, nausea creeping in as the air grows warmer in here. So many people. Too many people.
“Aunt Vi asked you how school is going.”
What the fuck does that matter right now? “Oh, I have one more year left,” I offer with a tight-lipped smile.
“Shouldn’t you be finished?”
My aunt’s question is valid. I should’ve been done last month. “No, I lost part of the first year,” I reply. I don’t tell her I spent that time helping my sister stay sober while trying to deal with my own crushing guilt.
“And you’re planning to work in forensic investigation?”
“Yes. Hopefully the FBI.” So I can become the woman who searches this country every fucking day, hunting the kind of people who turned my sister to ash.
“That’s the kind of job you really take home with you, isn’t it?” she comments. I shrug.
“Not as much as the victims take the memory of their rapists with them every time they close their eyes.”
Her mouth falls open, and my mother nudges me with her elbow.
“I mean… I really like helping people,” I add under her glare before looking away.
The truth is, I don’t care what my mother thinks.
It took her four fucking weeks to come home after we told her Nic was dead.
Mason and I had our baby sister cremated and grieved her death together as we waited for our mom to show up.
Typical. Since our dad died six years ago, she rarely puts us first.
It’s not that she’s a bad mom. She’s just selfish. And she’s already told us she can’t stay here because my dad’s ghost is here, and now Nic’s is too. But what she forgets is, so are we.
“Can I get you anything to eat, Emilia?”
I gulp back the lump in my throat and turn to meet the pretty blue eyes of Wolfe’s wife, Brinley.
“I could fix you a plate?” she offers kindly, pushing her long black hair off her shoulder and straightening her dress over her growing baby bump.
I shake my head and swipe away the tears. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna change my clothes and go for a walk.”
“Is that necessary, dear?” my mother asks, overhearing. “We still have so many guests coming through.”
“I’ll be back,” I say, giving her no room to tell me otherwise.
I’m the one who found Nic after she injected enough heroin into her vein to kill a horse.
I’m the one who has to live with the image of her laid out on the bed, needle still in her arm, eyes fixed on the ceiling, devoid of life.
So yeah, Mom, some fresh air is feeling really fucking necessary.