Chapter 6
Gabriella
Now
The tray in my hands was steady. It always was.
It didn’t matter how much my arms ached or how long I’d been standing in these ridiculous heels, my body had long since learned how to obey. Balance the weight. Keep the shoulders back. Head down, but not too far. Never slouch. Never hesitate. Never give them a reason to look too closely.
The dress clung to my skin like a second layer of shame. Black lace, cut high at the thighs and low at the chest, with a frilled apron tied at my waist like some sick joke. A costume designed to remind me exactly what I was in this room.
No longer the princess. No longer the president’s daughter.
Barely even a person.
I was a possession. A plaything. Something to be brought out during Church, paraded in front of the men. Something to be leered at, lusted over.
Someone to be punished for getting the reaction a dress like this demanded.
It was unusual for women to enter Church. But that was only one thing Nico had changed since he’d arrived. He wanted waitresses during these meetings—because God forbid one of his men were even slightly thirsty.
And, of course, these waitresses were too scared to say no. So if one of the men decided they needed servicing halfway through a meeting, then she would be under the table on her knees, her head bobbing up and down between his legs…
And thus a new Church had been born, one more depraved than the one before it. The sanctuary of this place had shifted, becoming more like a brothel with every passing day. I was so incredibly lucky to have front row seats!
Not!
I was here because Nico hated to let me out of his sight for too long—he was always paranoid that I was planning to escape. As if I would dare. I had learned my lesson the hard way and had long since accepted my fate.
Taking my place in the corner, at the back of Nico’s chair, I looked around, feeling sick to my stomach. The other girls moved the same way I did, drifting between the chairs in silence, their eyes lowered, their expressions carefully blank.
Some of them were new—I could always tell. Their hands trembled when they poured drinks, their breathing too shallow, too fast. They hadn’t learned yet. They still let their fear show. They still thought anyone here would care.
One of them stepped up beside a senior member, lowering the tray so he could take his drink. He didn’t even look at her as his fingers brushed over her wrist, deliberate and slow, testing her reaction, silently looking for weaknesses. A chink in her armour he could take advantage of.
Luckily for her, she didn’t react. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t give him anything to work with. He lost interest just as quickly as he’d found it.
Good. They were learning.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the floor, she moved on, circling the room until every glass was filled, every plate set, every demand silently met before it could be spoken aloud.
That used to be my job. But the men here were…
handsy. And Nico’s jealousy was a fierce thing.
He had no problem sharing my body when it was on his terms. But a discreet grope in his Church, when he hadn’t commanded the order, was unacceptable.
So I stayed at the back, silently observing, praying the girls didn’t fuck up. Because I was the one who paid the price if they did.
Only when every man had been served and satisfied did they take their place at my side, lining up against the far wall. We all took up the same position—hands clasped neatly in front of us, heads bowed just enough to appear submissive.
From here, I could see everything.
And hear everything.
Nico sat at the head of the table, exactly where my father used to sit.
The difference was, my father knew the game.
He was lethal, but predictable. He didn’t like to strike without a plan.
He was methodical. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses.
Nico was something else entirely. He was volatile. Loud, like a storm waiting to break.
He lounged back in his chair, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, a cigarette balanced between his fingers as though he didn’t have a care in the world. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, but his eyes—dark, sharp, constantly moving—missed nothing.
That was what made him dangerous.
Not the violence. Not the cruelty. Though they were traits he had in abundance. But what really made him deadly was his erratic ways. How he grew bored so quickly. His constant need for entertainment, no matter who suffered and paid the consequences.
“…I’m not interested in dragging this out,” he was saying, his voice calm, measured, carrying easily across the room without ever needing to rise.
“Harley had his way of doing things. He would play around with negotiations and compromises. I say, fuck that shit. We won’t be pussyfooting around with people who would slit your throat the second your back was turned.
I think we can all agree, if throats are being slit, we’ll be the ones to do the slicing. ”
A few of the men chuckled at that, nodding in agreement.
Nico didn’t smile. He rarely did. Not unless it was at someone else’s misfortune.
“If you ask me, the truce was a mistake from the start. A temporary fix to a permanent problem. And I don’t do temporary.”
He tapped ash into the tray in front of him, his gaze flicking briefly around the table, gauging reactions, weighing loyalty.
Always calculating.
“Didn’t you agree to the truce?” his VP asked. I held my breath, waiting for Nico to explode. But he simply smirked.
“I agreed to get them off our fucking backs. I was left to walk into the basement, knowing there was only one way I was getting out alive. We were sloppy. But we all knew we weren’t going to be abiding by their rules.
They ask for too much.” His eyes flicked backward toward me then, and I forced—no, demanded—my face remain passive and neutral.
I knew the agreement. I knew Vienna had asked for updates on my health and well-being. Not once had Nico ever given it. And it just left me with questions.
Why had Vienna done that? Why now, after all these years? What had changed?
We had been okay with the way things were. For over ten years, our contact had been minimal. I knew he waited outside my bedroom every night, and I always flicked the light to show him I was okay. But he had never pushed for more. He had never tried to contact me.
And then Dante had met his old lady, and everything had changed.
Vienna grew bolder. His nightly stalking was done closer—no longer content to be on the edges, he sometimes appeared right outside my window. He tried to speak to me. He once tried to drag me back to the Devil’s clubhouse with his brothers.
Why was he doing this now? Especially with Nico in charge. Nico would never, ever let me leave here alive.
“They’ve had their chance,” Nico continued almost lazily, bringing my attention back to him. “We gave them our terms, and they were pretty fucking simple. Stay out of our business, we stay out of theirs. But they’ve been pushing. Testing boundaries. Seeing what they can get away with.”
His lips curved then, but there was no humour in it.
“I don’t like being tested.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
I kept my face blank, my breathing even, but my fingers tightened slightly where they were clasped together.
The truce is over.
He didn’t need to say the words outright. It was there in everything else. In the shift of tone. In the way the men leaned forward, attention sharpening.
Nico straightened slightly in his chair, his gaze drifting, almost absentmindedly, until it landed on me.
My spine locked.
“Every single one of us is sick of the Disciples,” he said, his words an unspoken test. “And it’s time we dealt with it.
They seem to have forgotten their place.
They got away with too much when Harley was in charge.
Now it’s time to remind them that we are not just rivals.
The Riders are superior in every way—numbers, strength, cunning. We take back what Harley gave to them.”
A few of the men laughed again, louder this time.
“They’ve been sniffing around,” one of them added. “Asking questions. Poking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“I’m aware,” Nico replied smoothly. “And we’ll be dealing with it.”
He let that hang for a moment, the promise sitting heavy in the air.
Dealing with it.
My stomach twisted.
Because I knew what that meant.
It didn’t mean a conversation. It didn’t mean another attempt at negotiation. It meant escalation. It meant retaliation. It meant blood.
And for the first time since the meeting had started, something cold and sharp slid down my spine.
The Devils would not take this lightly, not with Dante in charge.
He had his old lady and two children to protect.
Rumour had it they were kick-starting the youth division again.
They were looking at growth and prosperity, and nothing was going to hold them back.
I knew well enough what they were capable of, and if there was no truce with the Riders then there would be no line they wouldn’t cross. No rules to follow.
Which meant…
My gaze dropped to the floor, my heart beginning to pound just a little faster.
If war breaks out, I’m not protected. Not like I would have been under my dad’s leadership. I’m no longer neutral. I used to be the princess, guarded like treasure. Now, I would be leverage. Collateral.
The old lady of the president. Unwilling though I was.
And since the Riders had already attacked Rachel…
I was fair game.
A tool to be used. A message to be sent.
And though I never for one second thought Vienna would harm me, I couldn’t say the same for the prospects. After all, it hadn’t been Nico that attacked Rachel either…
My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show. I couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not with Nico’s eyes still occasionally flicking in my direction, watching, waiting, measuring.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his voice lowering just enough to force the room to lean in with him.
“We don’t rush into this,” he said. “We do it properly. We hit where it hurts. We make it clear that we’re not to be fucked with. And we don’t stop until they understand that.”
Stupid man.
Didn’t he realise that if he was planning, the Devils would be planning too? Nico was reckless, looking for a fight, looking to show his strength.
But the Devils…? They were strategic and controlled. I knew that firsthand. After all, I had once been a part of them. I knew how they operated. Or, at least, I used to.
Don’t think about it, Gabby. Don’t open those wounds.
But that was easier said than done, and sometimes the memories were impossible to keep at bay.
My throat felt dry, my thoughts starting to spiral despite my best efforts to keep them contained.
I forced myself to focus on something small, something manageable.
The rhythm of my breathing. The feel of the lace against my skin.
The faint hum of conversation as the men continued discussing routes, territories, supply lines.
Details.
Always focus on the details.
It was the only way to stay afloat.
“…and what about her?” someone asked suddenly, their voice cutting through the noise.
My body went rigid before I could stop it.
Nico didn’t even look at me this time.
He didn’t have to.
His hand lifted slightly, an absent gesture, as though brushing off something insignificant.
“She stays where she is,” he said, his tone dismissive, final. “She’s more useful here.”
“She can prove to be more useful,” his VP answered. “She’s already proven there are no holds barred when it comes to spying. Isn’t that right, Princess?” he grinned at me.
I remembered him well. He had been there that night. He knew what had been forced upon me.
“We’ll see…” Nico murmured. “If she’s needed, she can be used to bring Vienna down. But for now, she stays where she is.”
A few of the men nodded, satisfied with that answer, already moving on.
But I felt the weight of it settle over me like chains.
Bring Vienna down…
I lowered my gaze further, forcing my expression to remain empty, my breathing steady, even as something inside me tightened painfully in my chest.
The meeting continued, voices rising and falling around me, plans being made, lines being drawn, but I wasn’t really hearing it anymore. Not properly. The words blurred together, background noise to the steady thud of my heartbeat in my ears.
War was coming.
And this time, there would be nothing holding either side back.
My fingers tightened again, nails pressing into my palms hard enough to sting, grounding me, keeping me present.
A memory flickered at the edges of my mind, faint but persistent, tugging at something deep in my chest.
I swallowed slowly, my gaze fixed firmly on the floor as the past began to bleed into the present.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been used like this.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been sent to bring down the Devils.
My chest rose and fell with a steady breath as the memory sharpened, pulling me under, dragging me back to a time when things had been simpler.
When the lines hadn’t felt quite so suffocating.
When the choice hadn’t felt quite so impossible.
I gave in to the memory, letting it wash over me. Letting it comfort me. Because there was a time I hadn’t betrayed him. When I had seen beyond the patches and the club, and I had seen a boy who needed help.
My help.
And that had changed everything.