Chapter 19 Nic
NINETEEN
NIC
Nearly three hours later, I’m in my office with the door shut, contemplating all the ways I’m going to ruin Demetri Morozov’s life.
I spent far too long on the phone, smoothing shit over with contacts I shouldn’t have access to.
The local beat cops know better than to come out here when there’s trouble, but it’s not normal to have guns firing like that.
Not in Birmingham. Some fast talking to the right people stopped an armed response unit from rocking up and making my day even fucking worse.
But dealing with the police always gives me a headache.
While I handled that fucking nightmare, my brothers are out there pulling threads, calling in favours—anything to get a location on Morozov. The man is a ghost, but even he has to surface at some point.
Where are you, you fucking prick?
I drum my fingers against the desk, the chair creaking as I lean back.
I’m tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion that sits under the skin, draining every drop of energy I have left.
I need to sleep, even if it’s only for an hour, but I can’t.
There’s still a roaring in my ears that hasn’t settled since the first bullet punched into the walls of my clubhouse.
And for first the time in a long time, I’m struggling to control myself.
The things I want to do to Morozov when I get my hands on him can’t be spoken aloud. That cunt fired into a room full of kids. Theo, Toby, Seren—they should never have been targeted. The women—fuck. Dayna’s pregnant. Maylie’s still recovering after giving birth.
And Keeley?
My hands have never been clean, but I’ve never been able to feel blood on them until now. It wasn’t even that much, but it was hers and I can’t stop thinking about it. I washed them until my skin was pink and I can still feel it burnt into my palms.
That was too fucking close.
I have to pay more attention. I took my eyes off the ball. Keeley was bleeding in front of me, and I didn’t fucking know.
I could have lost her.
Cold spreads along my spine, settling heavily in my stomach. That scares the shit out of me. She’s only been in my life a short time, but this was a reminder of how fast I could lose her.
One mistake. One bad move.
Fuck. I curl my fingers around the edge of the desk, grinding my teeth together.
My phone ends up in my hand. I don’t remember picking it up, but I hit redial on his number before I can think about it.
It rings twice before his smug fucking voice answers. “Phoenix. What took you so long?”
Breathe. Calm down before you speak.
I have no idea how I manage it, but I push all my anger down long enough to grind out the words sitting behind my teeth.
“You shot into my clubhouse,” I say, evenly. “You fired at women and children.”
My club isn’t clean, I know that, but we have a code.
There are lines we don’t cross for nothing.
Kids, women, civilians—they’re off limits.
We don’t hurt them, we don’t kill them, and we sure as fuck don’t drag them into our shit.
Morozov clearly doesn’t share that same moral compass and I hate that I learnt this the hard way.
“Then perhaps you should stop bringing women and children into your clubhouse, da?” He exhales like he’s already tired of this conversation. Of me.
Motherfucker. He has no idea he’s fanning the flames of a fire he’s going to regret starting.
I drop my voice low and lethal. I don’t even recognise the way it scrapes out of me. “I’m gonna enjoy every second I spend with you, Morozov.” I don’t shout. I don’t need to. “Not sure you’ll feel the same when I’m done.”
There’s a pause and I hope he’s shitting his pants at my threat. I want him terrified. Every time he hears my name or sees my patch, I want his knees to feel weak.
He clears his throat, a nervous tell that he definitely hates showing. Good. Be afraid of me, you slimy little cunt.
“Do you think threats scare me? Ne pizdi. I’m not scared. I’m ready for you.”
Keeley flashes in my mind, taking up space I didn’t know I’d left free for her.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Soft strawberry blonde hair that shimmers in the light after she’s washed it. The loose, wild wave that’s got a mind of its own, even when she’s pulled it into a messy knot. The way her nose wrinkles when she doesn’t agree with something but doesn’t want to say it outright.
All I see is her in my clubhouse, drowning in my hoodies, and arguing rules that don’t make sense to anyone but her.
My funny, sweet, sharp-tongued girl.
And today, she broke over children she barely knows. She wanted to sacrifice her safety to protect them, even knowing what could happen if she left.
Fucking hell, sunshine.
I grip the phone until my fingers ache. “I think,” I say, “you’re in over your head.”
“And yet you’re the one calling me, upset.” He pauses, as if he’s giving that time to spark my anger. I don’t give him shit. I hope he fucking chokes on my silence.
He clears his throat again, and I smirk.
Feel that fucking noose around your neck? I’m the one tightening it.
“You’re emotional,” he says. “That is interesting to me, but I do not understand. The girl is… worthless to you.”
That’s where he’s wrong. He has no idea what she means to me, and how far I’ll go to protect her.
That’s the difference between us—Morozov wants power and whatever other bullshit he thinks this will give him. I’m fighting for something far deeper and that’s why I’ll win this. I have far more to lose.
“You still have time to run,” I say.
He laughs. “Without what I’m owed? I don’t think so. And every day you delay my plans for Miss West are shaped by the frustration I’m feeling. Do you know how many ways there are to break a person, Phoenix? Women are especially… delicate.”
Savage heat tears through me before I can stop it.
I know exactly what he’s eluding to. It doesn’t matter that he’ll never touch her.
Even the hint of harming her sends me into a fucking blind rage.
It’s like there’s an inferno burning inside me.
I can’t think or fucking breathe around the images that statement conjures.
The declaration rips out before I can weigh the ramifications of it. “Keeley’s mine, you fuckin’ prick.” So much for staying calm, Nic. “That means she’s protected by every brother who wears this patch. You touch her and there won’t be enough left of you to bury.”
That’s not entirely true. There’s a process for bringing in old ladies, one I haven’t started yet, but right now, I don’t give a fuck about admin bullshit.
I want Morozov to choke on every word I spew at him.
I want him lying awake, shitting himself because he’s brought down the wrath of the Untamed Sons.
Be afraid, you fucking cockroach. You won’t live long enough to feel anything else.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Keeley is mine.
She’s been mine from the moment I laid eyes on her.
A vote around the table won’t change that, but fuck, I want to make it official.
I want her to be mine in the ways that matter.
I want her in my bed, in my life, on the back of my bike, wearing my property patch.
I want her tied to me in every way that counts. Old lady, wife. Fucking mine.
Morozov thinks he can take her from me? He’s about to learn a fatal lesson.
Come at what’s mine and see what happens.
The silence that follows is thick and more loaded than the guns he fired at my club family. Good. I hope he fucking suffocates on it.
Morozov lets out a quiet breath on the other end of the line, like he’s amused, but I can hear the uncertainty threaded through it.
“I don’t care who she is to you. It means nothing. She was mine first and I will have her back, Phoenix. Even if I have to go through every man who wears that patch you’re so attached to. I’m going to buy every man in this city just to throw them at you.”
My lip curls into a sneer, adrenaline flooding my system with violent excitement. Let him buy his mercenaries. Men bought and paid for are only loyal to the money, not the man.
“You’re gonna die, Demetri,” I say, dropping my voice into something dark. “I was already comin’ for you ‘cause of Keeley, but shootin’ up my clubhouse just gave me another reason to fuckin’ destroy you.”
I end the call before he can reply, and for a second I just stare at the blank screen. My pulse is loud and heavy, like my heart is trying to punch out of my chest and there’s this nonstop pounding behind my temple.
Fuck him.
He has no idea what he’s unleashed. I’ve never felt this need to ruin someone like this before. Not Crank, not even Blade—at least before I knew about Keeley. There’s a blood-deep hunger gnawing at me every second Morozov keeps breathing. It should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t.
Ending him feels fucking righteous.
I don’t even realise I’m moving until I’m in the corridor, boots thumping against the floor. Keeley flipped a switch inside me and I don’t know how to turn it back off. Morozov has awoken something primal in me that I can’t stop.
I’ll kill for her, bleed for her, and if that makes me a monster? Fine. I’ll be one.
When I step into the bar, my hands curl into fists. One window is already boarded up, casting shadows that didn’t exist before. Most of the glass on the floor has been swept up, but walls are still pockmarked with holes. A picture of the violence that happened here. Morozov’s message.
If he thinks a few bullets will force my hand, he’s wrong.
I’ll find and kill him before I let him lay a finger on her.
The old ladies are helping Riley with the cleanup, but there’s no Keeley. I scan again in case she’s—what? Hiding behind a table?
My chest squeezes. No, no, no.
She ain’t here.
Oh, don’t fucking do this to me, sunshine.
She wouldn’t run. Not after everything I said. Not when she knows the danger waiting for her. Especially not when she held onto me like I was the only thing keeping her tethered.
She wouldn’t…