12. Alaina
CHAPTER 12
ALAINA
TWO DAYS LATER
I sit on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit room, my hands clenched into fists against my thighs. The air inside the clubhouse is thick with cigarette smoke, the muffled sounds of laughter and music bleeding through the walls. But all I can hear is the silence—the one stretching between me and the one person I need to talk to.
Konstantin.
My grandfather.
Apparently the man who’s gotten me into this mess.
I press my lips together, swallowing the frustration building in my throat. Two days. Two whole days since everything flipped upside down, since I learned just how deep my family’s ties to the crazy underworld of bikers and bratva/mafia run. Two days since I realized that my grandfather—the man who raised me, the man I trusted—has been keeping secrets that put me directly in the line of fire.
And now, he won’t even speak to me.
I stare at my phone, the screen dark, the absence of messages from him making my chest ache. It’s not like him to ignore me. No matter what kind of trouble he’s been in before, he’s always answered when I needed him. But not this time.
This time, I’m on my own.
A hard knock at the door makes me jolt. Before I can answer, the door swings open, and Damian steps inside. His broad shoulders nearly fill the doorway, and he’s watching me with that unreadable expression of his—the one that always makes my stomach twist.
“You gonna sit in here all night?” His voice is low, gruff, the kind of voice that makes people listen.
I sigh and shake my head. “Not all night.”
Damian smirks. “Could’ve fooled me.” He steps inside, closing the door behind him. His presence fills the small space, and I can feel his eyes on me, reading me like he always does. “You eat today?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not a child.”
“Didn’t for one second think that, sweetheart,” he counters. “I asked if you ate.”
I don’t answer.
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Thought so.”
I push off the bed, frustration curling in my chest. Once again, I’m in a different place. Sure, I’m not alone in the woods in a box house. No, I’m in a converted warehouse that they call the clubhouse. A full house at that. There is always someone around, some noise. And while I know I’m surrounded by people, I feel very alone. No one understands my fears, frustrations. I don’t want to leave Damian’s room. It is a place I don’t get overwhelmed in. Just generally speaking, I want to go back to my life, my home, my normal. Not this … Anarchy. “I don’t have time to sit around and pretend everything’s normal, Damian. Not when my grandfather is out there avoiding me. Not when I don’t know what kind of shit he’s dragged me into.”
“I’m doing the best I can in a situation no one knows enough about. I brought you here because I have more eyes to help me keep you safe so I can dig into who the debt is owed to and pay it the fuck off. I can’t fix the shit with your grandfather, Alaina. I give you my word, I’m gonna do everything and I mean everything to keep you right where you are which is with me.”
His words remind me how dire my situation is but also that what I feel with him isn’t in my head. He feels it to. Looking to the man in front of me, I tell him what hurts the most. “I don’t see how he would let me get caught up in this.”
“The denial has to stop Alaina. I hate to be the asshole to tell you this, but life ain’t ever going to give you a heads up before it implodes.”
I throw my hands up. “I’m not in denial, Damian. I’m full of confusion, frustration, and missing my regular life.”
Damian watches me for a beat, then folds his arms across his chest. “You still think you can fix this, don’t you?”
I blink. “What?”
“You think if you can just get him to talk, he’ll make it all better,” he says. “Like this is something you can smooth over.”
I square my shoulders. “I need to talk to him.”
Damian tilts his head slightly. “Why?”
I scoff. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he says, his voice even. “You want the truth? You want to know what this life is—what he is? Then answer the damn question, Alaina. Why do you need to talk to him?”
I swallow hard. “Because he’s my family.”
Damian steps closer, his presence like a storm cloud rolling in. “That’s not a good enough reason. Family ain’t blood, baby. Family doesn’t cross the people they claim to love. Family steps up, back to back watching every angle protecting each other at all costs. Not using them, not putting them in shit they aren’t prepared for without warning. And mostly family doesn’t ghost family when the storms come.”
Anger flares in my chest. “He’s the only family I have, Chux.” My voice wavers saying his road name, and I hate the way it sounds. Small. Vulnerable. He’s the one who told me Chux is hard and right now he’s being Chux. But I can’t stop the words from coming like I’ve opened some flood gates. “He raised me. He was there when no one else was. And now—now I don’t even know who he is anymore. He’s keeping things from me, and those things are getting me in danger. So, yeah. I need to talk to him. I need to understand why .”
Damian studies me, his expression unreadable. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales and shakes his head. “You wanna see the truth?”
I blink. “What?”
“You wanna know what all this means? What he’s been a part of?” Damian takes another step closer, his gaze burning into mine. “Then you gotta be ready to face it, Alaina. All of it. Not just the pieces you think you want to see.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
His jaw tics. “No. You don’t.”
A beat of silence stretches between us. My pulse pounds in my ears.
Finally, I exhale and nod. “Then show me.”
Damian’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods once, like he expected my answer. “Alright,” he says. “But once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Once you step into this world, there’s no turning back.”
I hold his gaze, my hands trembling at my sides.
“I’m already in it, Damian,” I say softly. “Whether I want to be or not.”
His expression darkens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he jerks his chin toward the door.
“Then let’s go.”
And just like that, I step into the unknown. A short motorcycle ride and we are at my grandfather’s business.
The air is thick with smoke and tension the moment we step inside The Velvet Hall . The dim lighting casts long shadows across the walls, the scent of whiskey and leather mixing with something darker—power, danger. The room is filled with men in cuts, their eyes tracking Damian and me as we make our way deeper inside.
This isn’t just a strip club—it’s a throne room. And Konstantin sits at the head of it.
My grandfather is standing near the back, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression carved from stone. His graying hair is slicked back, his sharp eyes scanning me first, then Damian. He doesn’t look pleased.
Scratch that—he looks furious.
His voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “You had no right to call this meeting, Chux.”
Damian doesn’t slow his stride, doesn’t falter. He walks right up to Konstantin, stopping just short of being in his space. The tension between them crackles like a live wire.
“She has questions,” Damian says, nodding toward me. “You’re gonna give her answers.”
Konstantin’s gaze shifts back to me. For the briefest second, something flickers in his eyes—something I can’t name. But then, his expression hardens.
“And if I refuse?” His voice is calm. Too calm.
Damian doesn’t hesitate.
He pulls a hand gun and presses the barrel under Konstantin’s chin.
The room erupts in murmurs and males reacting. The strippers keep dancing not missing a beat like this is normal while I gaze around seeing how outnumbered we are. Yet, Chux stands here without even a tremor in his hand.
Guns are drawn—Konstantin’s men reacting instantly, weapons raised, aimed at Chux. The click of safeties being flipped off echoes through the space like a countdown to something deadly.
I can’t breathe.
But Chux?
He laughs . Manically.
Low and dark, like the sound of a man who’s been waiting for this moment. He doesn’t move the gun from Konstantin’s chin. Doesn’t so much as flinch at the barrels now aimed at him.
“You might end me,” Chux says, his voice laced with something lethal, “but my club will end every one of you before you hit the parking lot.” His finger flexes against the trigger. “And I don’t care to live as long as I take this fuck out first.”
The silence is suffocating.
My heart slams against my ribs, my breath stuck in my throat.
Konstantin doesn’t move. His gaze flickers between Chux’s gun and his eyes, calculating.
“You willing to die for this, boy?” Konstantin’s voice is measured, like he’s testing the weight of every word. “Because one of us isn’t gonna survive it.”
Chux doesn’t blink. “I don’t fear death. But you?” He tilts his head slightly, the barrel of the gun pressing harder against Konstantin’s temple. “You fear losing .”
Konstantin exhales through his nose, something dangerous shifting in his expression. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he lifts a hand—a silent command.
His men hesitate but lower their guns.
“You gonna answer her questions?” Chux challenges presses the gun into his chin.
“Within reason, yes.”
Chux shakes his head.
“I don’t have secrets with Alaina, you don’t either.”
Konstantin studies him before holding both hands up in surrender, looking to me, and nodding. “I’ll tell you whatever you ask.”
Chux doesn’t move for another heartbeat. Then, finally, he lowers his own weapon and steps back.
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Konstantin exhales sharply, rolling his jaw before pinning me with a look. He composes himself. “What the hell do you want to know, Ally? Let’s get this done.”
My voice shakes, but I keep my chin lifted. “The truth.”
He smirks, but it’s bitter, like I have no idea what I’m asking for.
“That,” he says, “is going to cost you more than you’re ready to pay.”
I swallow hard, glancing at Chux. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t move—he just watches Konstantin like a man who knows the war isn’t over yet.
And maybe it isn’t.
Maybe it’s just beginning.
My heart is still hammering against my ribs as the tension lingers in the room like a storm that hasn’t quite passed. The metallic scent of gun oil and cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the undeniable weight of violence. I can still hear the echo of safeties clicking, the sharp intake of breath from the men who nearly pulled their triggers.
And Chux?
He’s completely unfazed.
He just pulled a gun on my grandfather , stared down a room full of men ready to kill him, and laughed .
Like it was nothing.
Like he was nothing.
And that terrifies me.
I don’t even realize I’m shaking until I glance down at my hands. My fingers tremble slightly, my pulse still a rapid thrum beneath my skin. I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing, trying to process what the hell just happened.
I knew Chux was dangerous. I knew he had this edge to him, this reckless confidence that made him walk into fire without hesitation. But seeing it like this ? Watching him hold a gun to Konstantin’s head and dare an entire room of men to take him out?
It’s different.
It’s real.
And it’s terrifying.
I take a small step back, instinctively creating space between us. Chux notices. His sharp eyes flick to mine, and something shifts in his expression—something almost unreadable.
“Alaina.” His voice is softer now, like he knows exactly what’s going through my head. He reaches out giving my hand a squeeze. “Get your answers, sweetheart.”
I shake my head, unable to form words. My gaze darts between Chux and my grandfather, who’s rubbing the underside of his chin where Chux had pressed the gun. He looks irritated, not shaken. Like this is just another night in his world.
Another night in their world.
I’m drowning in it.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Konstantin’s voice drags my attention back to him. His eyes are sharp, his smirk cold. “The truth?”
I force my breath to steady. “I didn’t want this.” My voice shakes despite my effort to sound strong. “I didn’t want threats and guns being pulled?—”
“This is how things are handled here,” Chux cuts in, his tone steady. “This is what it means to be in this world, Alaina. There’s no asking nicely. There’s no waiting around for answers. There’s power. And there’s force. There is fear and there is fury.”
I blink, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
I knew my grandfather wasn’t a good man. I wasn’t blind to the things he was involved in—I’d ignored the warning signs for years, tucked away my suspicions, told myself that whatever he did behind closed doors had nothing to do with me.
But it does.
It always has.
And Chux… he’s not just a part of it. He thrives in it. Gets off on it. The reckless smirk, the way he laughed in the face of death—he belongs here.
And I don’t.
My stomach twists. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper.
Chux watches me, his expression unreadable. But Konstantin? He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head like he expected this.
“Then you should’ve walked away when you had the chance.”
My head snaps toward him, anger bubbling beneath the fear. “ You dragged me into this.”
His expression hardens. “No, sweetheart. I tried to keep you out. But you had to come digging, had to chase answers you weren’t ready to hear.” His gaze flickers to Chux. “And you had to catch his eye.”
Chux doesn’t move, doesn’t react to the jab. He just keeps his attention locked on me.
And that’s almost worse.
Because the man I trusted, the man who made me feel safe despite all the chaos, just showed me exactly what he’s capable of.
And I don’t know how to feel about it.
I take another step back, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. My hands are still shaking. My body is screaming at me to run
But I don’t.
Because no matter how much fear is clawing at me, no matter how much I want to pretend this isn’t my reality…
I still need answers.
I just don’t know if I’m ready for them.