Chapter Twenty-One
Riley
I stare in absolute disbelief at the destruction around me. The clubhouse is wrecked. Some doors were kicked in, even though they had full access to every room. Furniture overturned, drawers yanked out and dumped, their contents scattered like someone took a snow globe of our lives and shook it violently.
And it’s not just the clubhouse. Every single home inside the compound, occupied or not, has been torn apart. Even the garages, the vehicles, and the storage building where they keep old motorcycles weren’t spared.
They made us sit outside for hours while they tore through everything, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.
“Surely there’s some rule stating they have to clean up after themselves,” I mutter to myself, nudging aside a pile of clothes and papers that used to be neatly packed away.
The mess is so outrageous, so excessive, that I don’t even know where to start. It’s like they weren’t just searching for something – they wanted to make a point. And they wanted us to feel it.
A heavy weight settles in my chest as I take in the destruction of Spike’s house. This wasn’t just a search. It was a message. A warning. Chuck must have told them to be extra destructive because there’s no way this was just protocol.
I step carefully over the mess, my shoes crunching against shattered glass and scattered debris. It’s not just overturned furniture or drawers yanked out. It’s pure carnage. Mattresses slashed open, clothes ripped apart. Even the bathroom wasn’t spared.
But when I reach Asher’s room, the breath leaves my lungs.
The brand-new crib that Spike put together himself? Splintered into pieces. The soft mattress he picked out so carefully is sliced straight down the middle, its insides spilling onto the floor. His tiny blankets are crumpled and smeared with dirt like someone deliberately stomped over them.
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away, rage burning through the sadness.
This wasn’t just about finding something. It was about breaking something. About making sure we knew that nothing – no one – was off-limits.
Below me, I hear some of the men enter my new home. Then I hear Spike cursing under his breath, the sharp edge of fury in his voice. Tank says something and I hear Spike respond, but I can’t hear what it is they said. It doesn’t matter though. I don’t have to look at him to know his jaw is locked tight, his fists clenched.
They’re all pissed. But when Spike sees this room?
I don’t think even hell will hold him back.
Moments later, I feel them enter the room. I hold Asher tightly against my chest, knowing that he’s feeling the tension.
Spike’s footsteps are heavy, his boots crunching over the same broken glass I’ve been carefully avoiding. I hear him pause behind me, and I brace myself, knowing what’s coming.
The silence stretches, and I can almost feel the rage building behind him. His breathing is shallow, controlled, but the anger in the air is suffocating. Then, it happens – he lets out a low growl, the kind that sends a shiver up your spine.
“What the fuck?” His voice cracks like thunder in the stillness of the room.
I turn to face him, and the sight of his eyes, narrowed, burning with a mix of fury and heartbreak, hits me like a punch to the gut. His gaze flickers to the shattered crib, the ruined mattress, and then to me, clutching Asher protectively.
He takes a step forward, his hands tightening into fists. But before he can say another word, Tank’s deep voice cuts through the tension, calm but firm.
“We need to focus, Spike. We’ll deal with the anger later.”
Spike doesn’t answer, but I know his mind is a hurricane of thoughts, each one more dangerous than the last. Bones, ever the silent observer, stands at the doorway, his face unreadable but his body stiff with tension.
I can see it in their eyes. They all want revenge.
I step forward, holding Asher tighter. “Spike… it’s just stuff. We can fix this.”
But the words feel hollow, even to me.
Spike looks at me then, his expression softening just a little. “It’s not just stuff, baby,” he mutters. “It’s our life. It’s our family.”
I nod, but the heaviness in my chest doesn’t let up.
Asher squirms against me, and I gently adjust him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. It’s not enough to calm the storm inside me.
“Come on, let’s get out of here for a while,” I say, voice shaking. “We need to be somewhere safe.”
Spike hesitates, his gaze lingering on the wreckage. But when he looks at me again, something shifts in his eyes – a mix of determination and love. “We’ll stay in the bunker until we get this place back to normal.”
Nodding, I take one last look around the room.
“There’s no way this is protocol,” I voice my thoughts. “Chuck is behind this damage. I know it deep down in my soul that he’s told them to cause as much damage as possible. Might want to check for new bugs. He probably paid someone to place a few.”
Spike’s eyes widen before looking back at Bones.
“Already on it, doll,” he says.
“I’m gonna get Abby and move her back down in the bunker,” Tank says. “Skip has already made a call to a cleanup crew. Everything will be finished before we wake up in the morning. We’re paying them double their amount to work through the rest of today and overnight.”
“Good,” Spike says. “Baby, I need to go out for a few hours. I need to go and check in on my other chapters. All four of us were raided at the same time. I need to make sure everyone is safe.”
“We’ll be fine,” I tell him, even though everything in me doesn’t want him out of my line of sight. But I can’t be clingy. He has too many people depending on him.
“Order some new things for Asher,” he says, handing me a black card. “We also need a new mattress and couch. Pick whatever ones you want. Just have them delivered here tomorrow. Pay whatever shipping fee is needed to get it done. I love you, baby. Please, stay in the bunker.”
I nod, trying to steady my breathing as I hold Asher close, but the tightness in my chest lingers. Every instinct in me wants to be near Spike, to stay within arm’s reach, but I know he has to go.
I gently rock Asher in my arms, my mind racing as the chaos of the compound swirls around me. The wreckage. The broken things. It’s all a physical manifestation of the mess we’re in, and no matter how much cleaning gets done, it feels like we’re never going to fix what’s been torn apart.
“Spike, be careful,” I say, my voice cracking a little, betraying the fear I’ve been holding back. “I know you have to go, but please be careful. You know Chuck won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”
Spike’s gaze softens as he brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, his hand lingering for just a moment too long. “I’ll be fine. I promise you.” His tone is firm, but there’s a spark of something deeper in his eyes. Something I can’t quite read, but it’s a promise that stirs something protective deep inside me. “I’ll have Bones with me. That fucker can scare the devil. He’ll have us all back together soon.”
His hand reaches out, brushing Asher’s tiny head, and for a moment, I see him – really see him – lost in the softness of the fatherhood that he’s claimed. It’s a fleeting moment, but it means everything to me.
“I love you, baby,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.
“I love you, too,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, though the words feel like they’re wrapped in a thousand unsaid things.
As he turns to leave, Tank gives me a reassuring nod. “We got this, Riley. We’ll keep everything tight until Spike gets back.”
“I know,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Just… please, be careful. Both of you.”
Spike pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at me once more. His eyes harden, then soften all at once. “We will, baby. Trust me.” And with that, he’s gone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
I take a shaky breath and turn to Tank. “Thank you.”
Tank just grins, that knowing smile of his on full display. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to either of you. You’re family.”
I smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. All I can think about is Spike out there, in the thick of it, while I’m stuck here trying to hold things together.
But I know what I have to do. I have to keep Asher safe. I have to stay strong, even when every fiber of my being wants to collapse into Spike’s arms and never let go.
“Let’s go get Abby,” I tell my large friend. “She hates the bunker, but I think if we spend the day snacking and watching movies, it will be easier for her.”
Nodding, Tank leads me out of the room.
***
“Tank, you might want to come out here,” Mike’s voice says over the walkie. “The police are here and asking for Riley.”
“Don’t let them through the gate,” Tank responds. “I’m on my way.”
Tank doesn’t wait another second before he makes his way out of the bunker. His glare over his shoulders tells me to stay, but I decide to ignore him.
“Abby, will you be okay on your own down here?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I’ll follow you out, but I’ll stay near the house.”
Nodding, I follow the path that leads to the bunker’s exit.
Why would the police want me?
I clutch Asher tighter against my chest, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I know I should stay put, but there’s no way in hell I’m hiding away when the cops are here asking for me.
By the time I reach the front gate, a line of police vehicles sits just beyond the entrance, their flashing lights bathing the compound in an eerie red-and-blue glow. Several uniformed officers stand at the ready, but it’s the man in the middle that makes my stomach drop.
Chuck.
Dressed in a crisp button-up, his badge clipped to his belt like a freaking trophy, he looks entirely too pleased with himself. His arms are crossed over his chest, his smug grin making my skin crawl.
Tank is already standing in front of the gate, his stance wide, his arms folded as he stares down the officers. Mike and a few of the other guys are posted along the perimeter, tension rolling off them in waves.
“You got a warrant, Chuck?” Tank asks, his voice even but laced with barely restrained hostility.
Chuck lifts a piece of paper and waves it in the air. “As a matter of fact, I do.” His grin widens as he steps closer. “Riley Hayes, you’re under arrest for kidnapping.”
The air is sucked straight from my lungs.
“What?” I whisper, clutching Asher protectively. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Chuck shrugs. “Legal custody matters, sweetheart. And according to this,” he pats the paper mockingly, “you took my son from me.” His gaze drops to Asher, and something cold and possessive flickers in his eyes.
I knew he would find a way around Foster’s work. He probably had someone inside push through new paperwork.
“Your son?” I spit, taking a step back. “You don’t get to claim him just because your name’s on some piece of paper.”
Chuck lets out a fake sigh. “It’s not up for debate, Riley. The birth certificate says I’m his father, which means legally, I have parental rights. And since you’ve denied me access to him, well… I had no choice but to get the law involved.”
“You had a choice,” I snap. “You could’ve left us the hell alone.”
Tank steps between us, his voice dangerously low. “You’re not taking her anywhere, Chuck.”
Chuck tuts, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have a legal warrant for her arrest. If you interfere, that’s obstruction.” He lifts a second document. “And this one? Court order granting me emergency custody of my son.”
The world tilts.
“No,” I whisper, tightening my hold on Asher. “No, you can’t do this.”
Chuck’s grin is razor-sharp. “Oh, but I can.” He lifts his chin toward the officers.
The air crackles with barely restrained violence as Chuck lifts the warrant higher, waving it like a victory flag.
“Open the gate, Tank,” he orders, his voice smug and grating. “You don’t want this to get messy.”
Tank doesn’t move. His jaw is clenched so tight I swear I hear his teeth grinding. The veins in his neck bulge as he stands, unmoving, like an immovable wall between me and them.
Mike and a few of the guys shift behind him.
But then, the cops reach for their holsters.
A chorus of clicks fills the air as they draw their weapons and aim them straight at us.
“Last chance,” Chuck calls, his smirk growing. “Open the damn gate, or I swear we will open fire.
My breath catches in my throat as I instinctively hold Asher closer. His tiny body trembles against mine, his cries muffled against my chest. My heart slams against my ribs as I glance at Tank.
His entire body is coiled so tight I think he might snap. His fists are clenched at his sides, his nostrils flaring as he breathes heavily through his nose.
Then, slowly, his gaze moves to me.
I shake my head. No.
But the fury in his eyes tells me what I already know. He has no choice.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Riley,” he says softly. “Please, forgive me.”
With deliberate slowness, Tank reaches for the keypad beside the gate. He hesitates for only a fraction of a second, like he’s contemplating tearing Chuck apart with his bare hands right then and there. But in the end, he does what he has to do.
The gate groans as it slides open.
And then, everything shatters.
The moment the gap is wide enough, the cops storm inside. They move too fast, shoving past Tank like he’s nothing more than an obstacle in their way. Before I can even react, hands rip Asher from my arms.
“No!” I scream, lunging forward, but someone wrenches me back. Strong arms twist mine behind me, and cold steel snaps around my wrists.
“Riley Hayes, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Asher Hayes Landry,” an officer states, his voice void of emotion. “You have the right to remain silent…”
I don’t hear the rest.
All I see is Chuck standing there, smirking, holding my son like he actually has a right to him.
Asher’s screams pierce the air, his tiny fists flailing, his face red with terror. He’s so young, but I know he’s feeling my fear. The tension in the people around him.
“Give him back!” My voice is raw, desperate. I thrash against the cuffs, not caring that I can’t break free. Not caring that I’m outnumbered.
Chuck just smirks down at me, then looks at Asher. “It’s okay, buddy,” he coos, rocking him slightly. “Daddy’s got you now.”
Something inside me snaps.
Pure, unfiltered rage overtakes the fear, overtakes the panic. I lunge again, but the cops shove me forward, forcing me toward the police cars.
Tank stands rigid, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. His entire body shakes with fury, his nostrils flaring, his eyes dark and unreadable.
“You’re making a big fucking mistake,” he growls, his voice deadly calm.
Chuck chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”
And just like that, they shove me into the back of a cop car.
I barely have time to catch one last glimpse of Asher before the door slams shut, locking me away from my son.