Chapter Twenty-One
Sunny
“What is this place?” I ask as Riley leads us through the basement of her house, then over to a trap door I definitely would have never noticed on my own.
“This,” Abby says, dropping down after Riley, “is the club’s bunker.”
She doesn’t say it like it’s cool. She says it like it’s a sentence.
I hesitate at the edge before following them down into what feels like a hidden world beneath reality. With each step down I take, pain stabs through my body. I sure hope there’s Tylenol down there.
Eventually, the small space for the ladder opens up to a much larger area. It’s dimly lit, so I can’t really see what it looks like. But, if I can guess…scary.
“How far down is this?” I ask breathlessly as I finally reach the bottom. Looking around, We’re in a fortified room about ten feet high.
“Twenty-five feet, I believe,” Riley says from further ahead.
“I’ll show you where Bones’ room is,” Abby continues. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already got clothes and stuff down here, too.”
“Wait… there are rooms? How long do we have to stay down here?”
Riley, who has Asher secured to her chest, opens an abnormally thick door, the only thing in this room, and leads us into a place I was not expecting. Nothing around us looks like we’re underground. There’s electricity for one. Couches and chairs. An actual kitchen.
“One time it was almost a week,” Abby says, shuddering. “I don’t do well in small spaces. So that one nearly broke me. I still hate being down here. But, Tank’s helped me learn how to cope when I feel a panic attack coming on.”
“By coping,” Riley interjects, “she means Tank turned her room into an outdoor oasis. There are screens on all four walls, and she can play whatever scenery she wants. It’s amazing. I’m honestly jealous.”
“Sometimes Riley and I come down here just to turn on a beach scene and chill,” Abby grins. “Doing that has helped me not be too afraid of having to come down here when the compound is in danger.”
I stare at them both like they’ve just suggested margaritas during a zombie apocalypse.
“Why are you two not freaking the heck out right now?” I demand. “Something is clearly going down up there!”
“One thing you’ll learn,” Riley says, setting Asher gently into a playpen like this is just another Tuesday, “is that no matter how scared you get, it won’t change the outcome.”
She smooths Asher’s hair back as he babbles happily, completely unfazed by the fact that we’re apparently hiding from something bad.
“Of course I’m scared,” she adds. “I’m terrified something could happen to my husband. To our friends. But panic doesn’t help anyone.”
Abby nods, her expression more serious now.
“You have to trust that they know what they’re doing.
As long as they know we’re safe, they can focus on the fight.
But if you hesitate…if you don’t follow directions when they say run, duck, or hide…
they’ll turn their attention to you. Get distracted.
And that’s when people get hurt. Or killed. ”
“Our safety always comes first,” Riley says, casting a knowing glance my way. “No matter how many times we argue about it.”
“Have a seat,” Abby says, grabbing the remote. “I’ll turn on the security cameras so we can see what’s happening.”
Seconds later, the TV flickers to life, giving us a crystal-clear shot of the front gate.
“Holy cow,” Riley breathes. “Is that a bazooka?”
My jaw drops. The camera’s silent, but the image is terrifyingly clear. And, yep! That is absolutely a freaking bazooka.
“Look, everyone’s putting their guns away,” I say hopefully. “Maybe everything’s going to be okay.”
Abby snorts. “Oh, don’t let the Shadows fool you, Sunny. Just because you don’t see a gun doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“Snipers?” I guess, knowing there is usually at least one outside every day.
“Everywhere,” she confirms. “When stuff like this happens, everyone trained with the snipers takes a place on the roofs, in the trees, probably in Spike’s freaking mailbox.
There are still plenty of weapons pointed at our visitors.
Trust me. If that guy so much as sneezes wrong, he’ll be turned into salsa in under a second. ”
“It’s Max,” Riley whispers.
“Whose Max?” I ask.
“He’s someone who betrayed the club not long ago,” Abby answers.
“But, I think there’s more to it,” Riley says, looking towards me. “He saved me. I would have been killed if it wasn’t for him. Why is he here? They’ll kill him.”
“You don’t think he actually betrayed you guys?” I ask, looking at the screen at who I assume is Max. There are two men side by side next to the front SUV.
“It looks like he did,” Riley answered. “Everything points to him turning his back on this club. Everything but his actions afterward.”
“They’re letting them in,” Abby says, eyes glued to the screen. “Looks like they’re heading for the clubhouse.”
“Most likely the war room,” Riley adds, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV. “There aren’t any cameras in there. We’ll have to wait for the all-clear before heading topside. Come on, Sunny. We’ll show you around.”
“How much more could there possibly be to see?” I ask, standing slowly. My ribs are throbbing more than they have in days. Could be from the sprint to catch up with Riley and Abby, climbing a ladder into the underground, or the minor detail that I’m freaking the heck out .
Probably a delightful little cocktail of all three.
“This place actually runs a little more than half the length of the compound,” Riley explains. “Seven small bedrooms, a big community room with extra cots if we ever have to pack in a crowd, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a shower room, plus working electricity and plumbing.”
“Wow,” I breathe, genuinely impressed.
“Right?” Abby laughs. “There’s even a storage room packed with food, water, cash, sat phones, weapons, oxygen tanks…you name it, we have it. Only one entrance right now, but Bubby says they’re planning to add another that connects to the clubhouse.”
“Intense.”
“Very,” Riley agrees, pausing mid-step to look at me. “Still feel that warm, fuzzy sense of safety knowing a place like this is necessary for this lifestyle?”
She’s not trying to scare me. I know that. But the truth in her voice is like cold water down my spine.
“And yes,” she adds with a wink. “You’ll end up down here anytime there’s a lockdown or a scare like this.”
“Trying to scare me off?” I tease, even though the ache in my chest says this isn’t a joke.
“Not even a little,” she says, pulling me into a hug.
It hurts. But I don’t make a sound as I wrap my arms around her and hug back.
“I just want you to understand,” she murmurs, “we may be safe, but when you love a Shadow, there’s always risk.”
But is it a risk that I’m willing to take?
“Is it worth it?” I ask, my voice barely steady, barely there.
“Yes,” Abby whispers. “When you love a Shadow…even one that’s not your actual brother…the risk is worth it.”
Something in her voice pulls me up short.
I turn, eyes narrowing slightly. “Someone other than your brother?” I ask gently, remembering our conversation about her feelings for Tank.
“He’ll never love me back,” she says quietly, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
“Oh, Abby,” Riley breathes, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. “Tank already loves you. He’s just scared. Scared he’s not enough.”
“Then he doesn’t love me as much as I love him,” Abby says, voice cracking. “Because if he did… being with me would be worth the risk.”
My chest squeezes. Hard. I step up behind her and slide my arms around her waist, hugging her tightly from behind.
She needs this.
Needs to feel how loved she is, even when she thinks she’s alone.
Freaking Tank.
“If that man doesn’t pull his head out of his leather-clad behind soon, I swear I’ll kick his huge freaking butt. Or I’ll cry until Jack does it for me.”
Abby lets out a watery laugh, swiping at her face. “Alright,” she says, exhaling slowly. “Let’s get on with the tour.”
“Good,” Riley grins, looping her arm through Abby’s. “Because if you started crying again, Sunny was two seconds away from going full ninja on Tank.”
“Oh, that was only my warning speech,” I smirk. “You should hear the full death threat.”
Abby snorts and nudges me with her elbow. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously lovable,” Riley corrects.
We start walking again, the heavy tension from moments before slowly replaced by something steadier. Stronger. A reminder that no matter what chaos is going down above ground, we’ve got each other down below.
***Bones***
The war room feels colder than usual.
It’s not the air…it’s the presence. Two chairs at the far end of the table are occupied by men I don’t currently care for.
None of his men got in. That was Spike’s rule. The two of them entered alone, stripped of weapons. Though no one here believes for a second they’re unarmed.
Every officer is at the table. No one says a damn word.
Except Spike.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Spike says, voice calm and deadly. “So, talk.”
Muerte leans back with the ease of someone who’s always been in control.
“Straight to business,” he says, his accent smooth and deliberate. “I respect that.”
He glances at Max. The bastard doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
“Your cousin,” Muerte continues, looking at Spike now. “Billy. One of mine. Un grano pequeno. A very small… blemish.”
“Killed him myself,” I admit. “Fucker was killing people with Fentanyl. Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Muerte shrugs. “He was meant to hold the product. Nothing more. He got greedy. Made choices I did not authorize. Cost lives. Created chaos. I do not tolerate chaos.”
“He’s dead,” Spike says. “Problem solved.”
The fucker smiles. “For you, sí. But not for me. I have to clean up the mess. You see, I cannot risk his actions being traced back to me. It would be... how you say… bad for business.”
“Then why the hell are you here?” Crusher growls.
Muerte doesn’t lose that smile. “Because I bring a solution.”
Oh, this’ll be good.