Chapter 9
Kash
The Harley’s engine roars as we tear through the dunes, the sirens fading but still dogging us, a relentless wail in the night.
Spike’s arms are locked around my waist, his body pressed tight against mine, his breath hot against my neck. I can feel his heart pounding, matching the rhythm of mine, and it’s not just the chase fueling me now.
It’s him.
Spike.
This boy, this reckless, defiant skater who’s wormed his way into my life, into my heart. I’m not just riding for my freedom anymore—I’m riding for him, for us, and I’ll be damned if I let these cops take that away.
I follow the coordinates Jace sent, veering off the highway onto a dirt trail that cuts through dense woodland just over the state line.
The cruiser’s lights are gone now, lost in the tight twists of the dune trail Spike pointed out. He’s a damn genius, knowing these paths like the back of his hand, and it’s bought us enough time to make it here.
The trees close in, their shadows swallowing us as the trail opens into a clearing, the moonlight barely breaking through the canopy. I kill the engine, the silence deafening except for the distant crash of the ocean.
Spike slides off, his board under his arm, his green eyes scanning the dark.
“This the place?” Spike asks, his voice low, a mix of adrenaline and nerves.
“Yeah,” I say, swinging my leg over the bike.
I’m on edge, ready for anything, when I hear the crunch of boots on leaves.
Figures emerge from the trees, and my hand tightens on the knife until I recognize them—Clay, Jace, and Tank, my Wolf Rider brothers.
Clay’s broad frame is unmistakable, his stubble catching the moonlight. Jace, lean and sharp, nods at me, his eyes flicking to Spike. Tank, built like a goddamn mountain, cracks his knuckles, a grin splitting his face.
But there’s someone else with them, a man in a leather jacket, badge glinting on his belt.
A cop.
What the hell?
My stomach twists, every instinct screaming to bolt.
“Kash,” Clay says, his voice steady. “You’re a hard man to find.”
“Who the fuck is this?” I growl, nodding at the cop, my hand still on the knife. Spike steps closer to me, his body tense, ready to back me up.
The cop steps forward, hands raised, his face calm but serious.
“Detective Mace,” he says, his voice low, no bullshit. “I know you’re being set up, Kash. The Vipers and a dirty cop named Skinner are behind it. I’ve got a plan to take him down, but it’s gonna take you walking into a trap. That’s the deal, my guy.”
Spike’s head snaps up, his eyes blazing. “No fucking way,” he says, stepping between me and Mace, his board clutched like a weapon. “That’s too risky. Kash, you can’t. I’m not losing you.”
I grab his shoulder, pulling him back, my voice firm.
“Easy, boy,” I say, the word boy slipping out, grounding us both. His eyes meet mine, full of fear and something deeper, something that makes my chest ache. “Let him talk.”
Mace nods, his gaze steady. “Skinner’s the one running the show.
He’s on the Vipers’ payroll, planted the evidence to pin that cop’s murder on you.
He’s in deep. We think he’s working with gangs across the country.
We also think he’s murdered people himself too.
We set a trap in Cresthaven, lure him out with you as bait.
I’ve got clean cops ready to move in, arrest him, and as part of it all, clear your name too. But it’s gotta be now.”
Spike shakes his head, his voice rising. “No, Kash, this is crazy. They’ll kill you. You can’t trust a cop, not after everything.”
I look at him, his defiance, his worry, and I feel that same pull I felt when he called me Daddy, when he took everything I gave him and asked for more.
“It’s my decision,” I say, my voice low, final. “I’ve been running too long, Spike. This is my shot to end it. I trust my brothers, and if they trust Mace, that’s enough.”
“We trust him,” Clay says.
“You know me, I hate cops,” Tank adds. “No offense. But this is the right move.”
“No offense taken,” Mace says, a sly smile on his face. “Believe me, I’m putting my entire career on the line here working with you sonsofbitches. I need to know I can rely on you as much as you need the same from me.”
Spike’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue, just nods, his eyes locked on mine. “You better come back,” he says, his voice soft but fierce.
Mace steps forward, checking his watch. “We roll out now. Cresthaven, the old warehouse by the pier. Skinner’s expecting you to show, thinks you’re meeting a contact. We’ll be ready.”
I nod, my hand brushing Spike’s arm, a silent promise. “Let’s do this.”
The ride back to Cresthaven is tense, the Harley’s growl a steady pulse beneath us. Spike’s arms are tight around my waist, his board wedged between us again, his silence heavier than the night.
The coordinates from Jace led us to my brothers, to Mace, to this plan, but it’s a gamble.
If Mace is dirty, if this is a setup, I’m walking into a slaughter.
But I’ve got no choice.
The Vipers and Skinner have me cornered, and running’s not an option anymore—not with Spike in my life, and not with the Wolf Riders compromised now too.
We pull into Cresthaven just before dawn, the town quiet, the pier looming like a skeleton against the gray sky. The warehouse is a rusted hulk, tucked behind the dunes, a perfect spot for a trap.
I kill the engine, and Spike slides off, his eyes scanning the shadows.
Clay, Jace, Tank, and Mace are already there, hidden in the surrounding brush, their bikes stashed out of sight.
Mace signals us, his face grim, and I feel the weight of what’s coming.
“Stay back,” I tell Spike, my voice low, stern. “Whatever happens, you don’t get involved.”
He glares at me, his defiance flaring. “I’m not sitting this out, Daddy.”
“Yes, you are,” I snap, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You do what I say, boy, or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”
Spike nods, reluctant, and I let him go, my heart heavy.
I step into the warehouse, the air thick with dust and salt, my knife at my belt, a gun that Tank brought for me tucked into my trousers.
The trap’s set—me as bait, Mace and my brothers ready to spring it.
But the second I’m inside, I know it’s gone wrong. Headlights flash, and cops swarm from every corner, their guns drawn.
In the center is Skinner, the corrupt detective, his eyes cold, a smirk on his face…
“Well, well,” Skinner says, his voice dripping with malice. “Kash, the cop-killer. You’re mine.”
Before I can respond, shadows move—Vipers, their leathers marked with that damn snake emblem, guns in hand. It’s a fucking ambush. I dive for cover behind a crate as gunfire erupts, bullets tearing through the air.
Not a second passes before my brothers burst in, Clay’s shotgun roaring, Jace and Tank laying down fire. Mace is with them, his badge glinting as he shouts,
“Skinner, you’re under arrest!”
Skinner laughs, firing back, his Vipers joining him.
The warehouse is chaos, muzzle flashes lighting the dark, the air thick with gunpowder. I pull my knife in one hand, gun in the other, staying low, my heart pounding.
Spike’s out there, and I’ll be damned if I let him get caught in this.
I catch a glimpse of Mace tackling a Viper, his gun blazing, and I know he’s clean, fighting for us.
A bullet grazes my arm, hot pain searing through me, but I keep moving, diving for another crate.
Clay’s at my side now, his shotgun blasting, and we take down two Vipers, their bodies hitting the floor.
“Where’s the kid?” Clay shouts, his voice barely audible over the gunfire.
“Outside,” I yell back, praying Spike listened for once.
I spot Skinner, his gun aimed at Mace, and I move without thinking, tackling him to the ground. We grapple, his fist slamming into my jaw, but I’m stronger, pinning him, my knife at his throat.
“Call them off,” I growl, but before he can answer, a shot rings out.
Skinner jerks, blood blooming on his chest, and he lies, lifeless. I turn and see Mace standing over him, his gun smoking, his face grim.
I look around and see that the whole thing is done. Just like that. The corrupt cops and Vipers are either dead or too seriously injured to continue the fight.
“It’s done,” Mace says, his voice hard. “You’re clear, Kash. I’m not asking where you actually were the night of the murder. It’s a one-time thing. A sign of respect. But from now on, we’re back to being enemies. Got it? And that goes for all of you Wolf Riders.”
I nod, wiping blood from my lip, and we shake hands, a tense respect between us.
I stumble outside, my arm burning, and find Spike, his eyes wide with fear and relief as he runs to me.
“Kash!” he says, his voice breaking, his hands on my face. “You’re okay.”
I pull him close, ignoring the pain, my heart pounding with something bigger than survival.
“I love you, boy,” I say, the words spilling out, raw and true. “You’re mine. Forever.”
Spike’s eyes soften, his grin shaky but real.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Spike says, and I kiss him, hard and desperate, the world fading away.
Clay claps my shoulder, breaking the moment.
“Time to ride, brother,” Clay says, his grin wide. “Back home. And it looks like you’re bringing company. There’s general stores along the way, you can pick up general supplies for the boy. I think Spike’s gonna get on great with the other boys too.”
“Others?” Spike asks, a look of glee in his eyes.
“Oh, just you wait until you meet them,” I chuckle. “Jeez. Talk about a recipe for mischief and mayhem…”
I chuckle, pulling him onto the Harley behind me.
My brothers’ bikes roar to life, and we ride out, the open road ahead, Cresthaven fading in the rearview.
The Vipers are broken, at least for now.
Skinner is dead.
And I’m free.
But more than that, I’ve got Spike, and that’s worth every bullet, every risk.
We’re heading home—together.