Chapter 19 Sasha
SASHA
Ituck my hair behind my ear as Lucy holds up yet another dress against her slim frame.
“What do you think? Too much cleavage for a family dinner?” She grins, knowing damn well that’s not an issue in the club.
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
Lucy places the dress back on the rack with a dramatic sigh. “Stray would probably appreciate it, but his mom might have a heart attack.”
It’s refreshing having someone to shop with who isn’t old enough to be my mother.
Lucy’s twenty-five—still six years older than me, but worlds away from Ruth and Carol’s generation.
She gets my references, laughs at my jokes, and best of all, doesn’t look at me with that mix of pity and concern everyone else does.
“So, you and Havoc, huh?” Lucy wiggles her eyebrows as we walk toward the food court. “Never thought I’d see the day someone tamed that silver fox.”
My cheeks flush. I touch the leather cut I’m wearing over my sundress. It still feels strange, but also right somehow.
“He’s... not what I expected.”
Lucy nods knowingly. “The good ones never are. Stray looked like bad news when I met him, but underneath all that leather and attitude? Total softie.”
We finish our shopping and head toward the parking lot, bags swinging from our arms. Lucy’s chatting about some club gossip when I notice a black van pulling up beside us.
“Hey, look at this purse I found on sale the other day—” Lucy’s voice cuts off as two men jump out of the van.
Before I can react, rough hands grab my arms. I drop my bags and scream as they try dragging me toward the open side door.
“Shut up, bitch!” one of them snarls, his grip bruising my skin.
Lucy’s screaming too, swinging her shopping bags at one guy’s head.
“Let her go!” she shrieks.
I kick and thrash, my lungs burning for oxygen. One man backhands Lucy, sending her stumbling backward.
“Get off me!” I shriek, clawing at the tattooed arms around my waist.
Suddenly, there’s the roar of a motorcycle and screeching tires. A bike skids to a stop beside us, and Viper leaps off, gun already drawn.
“Let her go,” he growls, and the cold promise in his tone makes even me freeze.
The man holding me tightens his grip, and I feel the hard press of a gun against my ribs.
“Back off, Wicked Sinners trash,” he hisses. “This ain’t your business.”
Viper doesn’t lower his weapon. His green eyes are razor-sharp, his finger steady on the trigger. “The Prez’s old lady is always my business.”
I catch sight of the tattoo on my captor’s wrist—a crown with FK beneath it. Forsaken Kings. The men who killed my parents.
“Let her go,” Viper repeats, taking a step forward. “Or I paint this parking lot with your brains.”
The second man jerks Lucy by her hair, making her cry out. “We take the girl, or this one gets hurt.”
My heart hammers against my chest. Lucy’s eyes are wide with terror, and I can see blood trickling from her split lip.
“Viper,” I manage to whisper. “Don’t let them hurt Lucy.”
A tense silence hangs in the air. People are noticing now, some hurrying away, others pulling out phones.
“Cops’ll be here any minute,” Viper says with deadly calm. “You really want to be caught in the middle of a kidnapping?”
The man holding me shifts his weight. I can feel his hesitation. Sirens wail in the distance. My captor curses under his breath.
“This ain’t over,” he growls, suddenly shoving me forward. I stumble into Viper, who catches me with one arm while keeping his gun trained on them.
The men back toward their van, dragging Lucy a few steps with them before roughly pushing her away. They climb inside, the engine roaring to life.
“Tell Havoc we’ll see him real soon,” one calls out before slamming the door.
The van peels away, tires screeching across the asphalt.
Viper lowers his gun once the van disappears around the corner. His hands are on me immediately, turning me to face him, his green eyes scanning me for injuries.
“You alright?” he asks, his voice gruff but concern evident beneath the surface. “They hurt you?”
I shake my head, adrenaline making my limbs tremble. “I’m okay.”
He nods sharply before turning to Lucy, who’s pressing a hand to her bleeding lip.
“You good?”
Lucy nods, wiping blood from her chin. “Just a split lip. Nothing serious.”
Viper pulls out his phone, his eyes never stopping their scan of the parking lot. He keeps one hand on my shoulder as he makes the call, his touch protective rather than possessive.
“It’s me,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, I got them. Forsaken Kings tried to grab her.” He pauses, listening. “No, everyone’s fine. Two guys, black van.” Another pause. “Yeah, I recognize one of them. Switchback’s cousin, I think.”
I wrap my arms around myself, the reality of what just happened sinking in. They tried to kidnap me. The same men who killed my parents nearly took me too.
“We’re leaving now,” Viper says into the phone. “Be there soon.”
He hangs up and turns to me. “I’m taking you back to the compound. Now.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t argue. The compound suddenly seems like the safest place in the world.
Viper glances at Lucy. “You okay to drive back? Follow us?”
Lucy nods, fishing her keys from her purse. “Of course. No problem.”
“Good. Stay close.” Viper’s tone makes it clear this isn’t a casual suggestion.
Lucy gives me a quick, reassuring hug before heading to her car. Viper leads me to his motorcycle and hands me his helmet.
“Hold on tight,” he instructs as I climb on behind him.
I wrap my arms around his waist, clutching his cut. The Wicked Sinners patch stretches across his back, and I’m suddenly grateful for the protection it represents.
The ride back to the compound passes in a blur. I cling to Viper, my hands trembling against his leather cut, even as the wind whips around us. Every shadow on the road looks like that black van, every car in my peripheral vision a potential threat.
When we pull through the gates, relief floods my system. Home. Safe.
Diesel and Stray are already waiting in the parking lot, tension visible in their rigid postures. Lucy pulls in behind us, parks her car, and rushes to her husband.
“Baby, what happened?” Stray’s face transforms from concern to rage when he sees her split lip. His fingers gently brush her face. “Who did this to you?”
“Forsaken assholes,” Viper answers, helping me off his bike. “Two of ‘em tried grabbing Sasha. Lucy fought like hell.”
Stray’s eyes darken dangerously. “I’ll fucking murder anyone who puts their hands on my old lady.”
“I’m okay, baby,” Lucy says softly, placing her hands on his chest. “Really. It’s just a little cut.”
He’s not listening, already mentally planning retribution, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Lucy takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.
“Stray,” she says firmly. “I’m okay.”
Something in her voice finally reaches him. He exhales sharply, nods once, then wraps his arm around her shoulders.
“We’re going to our room. Put some ice on this.” His voice is still tight with anger, but he’s containing it for her sake.
They disappear into the clubhouse, Stray’s protective arm never leaving his wife’s shoulders.
Diesel runs a hand through his dark hair. “You get a look at these guys?”
“Switchback’s cousin was one of them,” Viper replies, lighting a cigarette. “The other guy, big fucker with a neck tattoo, I’ve seen him around Ashford.”
“They say anything?” Diesel asks, glancing at me.
I wrap my arms around myself. “They said to tell Havoc they’d see him soon.”
Diesel and Viper exchange a look that makes my stomach knot. Before they can say more, the compound gates burst open with a screech of metal. A Harley roars through, moving so fast it nearly tips when it skids to a stop.
Havoc leaps off, not even bothering to properly park. His silver hair is windblown, his eyes wild as they search the lot and lock onto me.
Havoc rushes toward me, his face a storm of emotions. Before I can speak, he pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. His heartbeat pounds beneath my cheek, rapid and frantic.
“Fuck,” he breathes into my hair. “Fuck.”
His hands move over me, checking for injuries, fingers trembling against my skin. When he’s satisfied that I’m physically unharmed, he cups my face between his palms. The look in his eyes steals my breath—raw fear transforming into fierce relief.
“I’m fucking sorry,” he growls. “I should have been there. I should have—”
He cuts himself off, crashing his mouth against mine in a bruising kiss that tastes like terror and desperation. It’s not gentle or controlled like his usual kisses. This is primal, a man reassuring himself that I’m real, I’m here, I’m safe.
When he pulls back, his thumbs brush my cheekbones. “Are you okay, baby? Did they hurt you?”
I shake my head, my own emotions bubbling to the surface now that he’s here. The shock that had kept me numb begins to crack.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “They didn’t—Viper got there in time.”
Something dark and violent flashes across his face. He presses his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling in the space between us.
“I swear to fucking god,” he says, voice low and deadly, “I will hunt down every last one of those Forsaken bastards. They put their hands on what’s mine.” His fingers tighten on my face. “I’ll make them pay. They’ll beg for death before I’m done.”
The intensity in his eyes should frighten me, but instead, it makes me feel protected. Cherished. This isn’t just club business anymore—this is personal to him in a way that reveals exactly how much I mean to him.