Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
DELILAH
T he streets of Ridgewood were quieter than I remembered, though it might have been the funeral that silenced them. People here knew when to stay out of the way, especially when bikers were involved. The Black Vipers and Crimson Reapers weren’t just clubs—they were forces of nature in this town, and no one wanted to be caught in the storm.
I walked aimlessly, my boots splashing in shallow puddles as the smell of rain lingered in the air. The cemetery’s weight clung to me, pressing down on my chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the clubhouse. Axel’s words still echoed in my head, his fury directed at the world but somehow managing to hit me, too.
I needed air. Space. Anything to drown out the chaos in my mind.
As I passed an old diner, the kind with peeling paint and flickering neon signs, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. Her face was pale, her hazel eyes tired, her dark hair wild from the damp air. She looked like someone who didn’t belong here, someone who had been gone too long to find her footing again.
And maybe that was true.
The reflection in the glass pulled me back, and suddenly, I was seventeen again.
The Black Vipers’ clubhouse was alive with noise that night, but it all faded into the background the moment I stepped into the main room. The usual rowdy laughter, the sharp clink of pool balls, the blaring rock music—it all stopped when Dad turned to face me.
His presence filled the room, just like it always did. Broad shoulders clad in his leather cut, dark eyes sharp as a blade, and an expression that could stop a man in his tracks. His boots were planted firmly on the worn hardwood floor as if daring anyone to challenge him. The air felt heavier, thick with smoke and tension, and I could feel every eye in the room shift to me.
“You think this is a game, Delilah?” Dad’s voice was a thunderclap, sharp and commanding, cutting through the lingering noise like a blade.
I froze for half a second, my heart lurching in my chest, but I forced myself to keep walking. I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. Not tonight.
“It’s not a game,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended but trembling just enough to give away my nerves. “But it’s not my life, either.”
His dark eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he took a step toward me. The men around him shifted uncomfortably, glancing at one another like they weren’t sure if they should stay or clear the room. Even Axel, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, didn’t move to intervene.
“This club is your life,” Dad said, his voice low but laced with steel. “It’s in your blood. Everything you have, everything you are, comes from the Vipers. Don’t you forget that.”
I glanced around, my heart pounding. The room felt suffocating, the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes pressing down on me like a physical force. Some of the men were watching with curiosity, others with thinly veiled disdain. They weren’t used to seeing someone stand up to their president, especially not his own daughter.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I said, my voice cracking as my emotions bubbled to the surface. “I didn’t ask to be born into your world. I didn’t ask to grow up surrounded by violence and blood and ? —”
“Enough!”
The sound of Dad’s fist slamming onto the table was deafening. Bottles rattled, one of them tipping over and spilling whiskey across the wood, but he didn’t even glance at it. His focus was on me, his dark eyes burning with fury.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Not here. Not ever.”
My chest heaved as I struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. But I wasn’t going to back down. Not this time. “Maybe I don’t want to be part of this family,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough to cut through the tense silence. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe I don’t want to live in your shadow or clean up your messes or ? —”
“Delilah.”
He said my name softly, but there was no kindness in his tone. It was a warning, quiet and lethal, the kind of voice that sent shivers down your spine.
I froze, the fire in my chest replaced by a cold, sinking feeling.
“You’re my daughter,” he said, taking another step toward me, his voice calm and deliberate. “And that means you don’t get a choice. You think you can just walk away? You think the world out there is better than what I’ve given you? It’s not. And if you try to leave, you’ll find out just how unforgiving it can be.”
The room was dead silent. No one dared to move or speak. Even the men who had been watching with amusement a moment ago looked uneasy now.
I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my nails digging into my palms. For the first time, I felt small. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I knew he believed every word he was saying. He truly thought I couldn’t survive without him, without the club.
But he was wrong.
“Maybe I’ll take my chances,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dad’s expression didn’t change, but the slight flare of his nostrils told me I’d struck a nerve. He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Get out,” he said, his voice cold and clipped.
For a moment, I thought he was talking to me. But then the men started shuffling out, their boots scuffing against the floor as they moved toward the door. One by one, they disappeared, until it was just the two of us.
I didn’t move.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said finally, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. “This isn’t about what you want, Delilah. This is about loyalty. Family. Responsibility. You think you can just turn your back on that?”
“I didn’t turn my back,” I said, my voice breaking. “You pushed me away.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for too long. Dad’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, I thought I saw something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or pain. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
“You’ll see,” he said, his tone softer but no less resolute. “One day, you’ll understand.”
I didn’t stay to argue. I turned and walked out of the clubhouse, the tears finally spilling over as I stepped into the cool night air. My chest ached, my throat burned, and my mind raced with the weight of everything that had just happened.
I didn’t know if I’d ever understand him.
But I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to let him control my life anymore.
The memory hit me like a wave, pulling me under and leaving me gasping for air. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the present. My fists were clenched at my sides, just like they’d been that night, and my chest felt just as tight.
Even now, years later, his voice still haunts me. His words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the shadow I’d been trying to escape. Maybe he’d been right. The world outside the Vipers wasn’t kind. It was ruthless and cold, just like him. But at least it was mine.
I let out a shaky breath, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket and quickening my pace. The rain had started to fall again, light but steady, soaking into my hair and dripping down the back of my neck. I tried to lose myself in the rhythm of my footsteps, in the sound of the rain, but the weight of the memory clung to me like a second skin.
As much as I hated to admit it, Dad had been right about one thing: the world outside the Vipers was unforgiving. And now, with him gone, it felt even colder.
The rumble of their engines hit me first, a low growl that sent a ripple of unease crawling up my spine. At first, I tried to convince myself it was nothing—just another group of bikers passing through. Ridgewood wasn’t short on clubs, after all. But the sound grew louder, sharper until it wasn’t just background noise but a warning.
My boots slowed on the wet pavement as I glanced over my shoulder, my stomach twisting. Four bikes roared down the street, their riders cloaked in shadow beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. Their leather cuts gleamed in the faint light, the Crimson Reaper on their backs stark and unmistakable.
The Crimson Reapers.
I turned away, hoping they’d pass, but the sound of their engines changed. Slower, closer. My pulse quickened as they eased their bikes to a stop, forming a loose line across the street. They didn’t just block the road—they boxed me in, their presence commanding the entire space.
One by one, they cut their engines, and the silence that followed was worse than the noise. It pressed against my ears, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the faint patter of rain on the asphalt.
The tallest of them dismounted first, his boots hitting the ground with a deliberate thud. He was broad-shouldered, his leather cut stretched tight across his chest, and his scruffy beard framed a face that was all hard lines and sharper intentions. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel his gaze burning into me.
“Lost, sweetheart?” he drawled, his voice low and mocking.
I stopped in my tracks, my breath hitching in my throat. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice steady, though my heart was pounding.
His lips curled into a smirk as he took a step closer, his boots splashing through a puddle. “Passing through where?” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Viper territory’s that way. This is Reaper turf.”
The others chuckled, their laughter low and rumbling, the kind of sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. They hadn’t even dismounted, just sat on their bikes like predators waiting for the right moment to pounce.
I forced myself to hold my ground, my mind racing. They knew who I was—there was no way they didn’t. The daughter of Javier Cruz, walking alone in their territory? This wasn’t a coincidence. It was a message.
“Look,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble?” Another one of them, shorter but stockier, let out a bark of laughter. He leaned forward on his handlebars, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Trouble’s your middle name, ain’t it? Cruz blood and all.”
The tall one’s smirk widened, his sunglasses reflecting the faint glow of a nearby streetlight. “Heard about your old man,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Shame, really. Guess the Vipers aren’t as untouchable as they like to think.”
His words hit like a punch, knocking the air from my lungs. My fists clenched at my sides, anger flaring hot and sharp in my chest. “You want to talk shit about my father? Fine,” I snapped. “But don’t pretend you’re any better. The Reapers bleed just like the rest of us.”
The smirk faltered, replaced by a harder edge. The air around us seemed to grow heavier as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to feel every second of his approach.
“Careful,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable threat. “You might be daddy’s little princess, but out here? You’re nothing. No one’s gonna give a shit if you end up face down in a ditch.”
My breath caught in my throat, my instincts screaming at me to back away, but I refused to move. Fear and fury clashed inside me, but pride won out. I lifted my chin, meeting his hidden gaze head-on.
“Enough.”
The word cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and commanding.
The tall man stiffened, his head turning toward the voice. I followed his gaze, and my chest tightened as another rider dismounted his bike, his movements deliberate and controlled. He was tall and broad, his leather cut adorned with the insignia of the Crimson Reapers and the unmistakable patch of a vice president.
Ryder “Wraith” Kane.
His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and his piercing blue-gray eyes locked onto me with an intensity that made my stomach twist. The other Reapers fell silent as he approached, the authority he carried evident in the way they moved to give him space.
“Wraith,” the tall one said, his tone a mix of irritation and respect. “We were just?—”
“I know what you were doing,” Ryder interrupted, his voice low but firm. “Step back.”
The tall man hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening, but he obeyed, taking a step away from me.
Ryder turned his gaze to me, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone even but laced with warning.
I lifted my chin, the defiance still burning in my chest. “I didn’t realize I needed permission to take a walk.”
His lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk threatening to break through, but his eyes remained cold. “You don’t. But walking into Reaper territory? That’s a choice. A dangerous one.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
“No,” he said, his gaze steady. “It’s advice.”
The air between us crackled with tension, the silence stretching out as we stared at each other. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he was trying to intimidate me or warn me. Maybe both.
“What do you want us to do, Wraith?” the tall man asked, breaking the silence.
“Nothing,” Ryder said without looking away from me. “She’s leaving.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, my pride warring with my common sense. But I wasn’t stupid enough to push my luck. Without another word, I turned and started walking, forcing my legs to move even as my heart hammered in my chest.
Their laughter followed me down the street, low and mocking, but Ryder’s voice cut through it all, calm and firm. “Let her go.”
I didn’t stop walking until the sound of their engines rumbled back to life, echoing down the empty street, and finally faded into the distance. Only then did I let out a shaky breath, my chest rising and falling with uneven gasps. My legs felt weak, my steps faltering as I reached the edge of Viper territory. The familiar landmarks should have brought some comfort, but they didn’t. The tension clinging to me felt like a second skin, impossible to shake.
My hands were trembling, and I stuffed them into my jacket pockets to hide the evidence, even though no one was around to see. The rain had soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone, but I barely felt it. The adrenaline still pumping through my veins had numbed everything else.
Ryder Kane’s voice echoed in my mind, calm and deliberate, yet impossible to ignore. Unlike the others, he hadn’t mocked me or tried to scare me outright. But somehow, that made him more dangerous. There was a weight behind his words, a quiet certainty that carried more power than all their sneers and threats combined.
He hadn’t needed to say much to make his point.
He was dangerous—that much was obvious. Not just because of his position as Vice President of the Crimson Reapers or the way the others deferred to him without question. It was something more than that. A presence, a certainty, an unshakable control that demanded attention.
And that’s what left me so unsettled.
I hated how clearly I could still see his eyes—piercing blue-gray, sharp and unrelenting as if they could see right through me. Most men in his position relied on brute force or the threat of violence to command respect, but Ryder didn’t have to. His authority came from something quieter, more calculated. It was the kind of power you couldn’t argue with, the kind that made you want to look away even when you knew you shouldn’t.
I didn’t trust him—not for a second. But there was something about him I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts even as I tried to push it away.
The Reapers weren’t just a threat to the Vipers. They were a threat to me, too.
The realization settled in my chest like a heavy stone, the weight of it pressing against my ribs. I’d spent years trying to stay out of club business, distancing myself from the violence and chaos that came with the Black Vipers’ name. But now, it felt like I was being pulled back in, dragged into a war I wanted no part of.
And Ryder Kane was at the center of it.
I didn’t want to think about why.
The street around me was empty, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long, distorted shadows across the wet pavement. The rain had picked up again, each drop sharp and cold as it hit my skin, but I barely noticed. My mind was too busy replaying every word, every look, every second of that encounter.
The tall one’s mocking voice still rang in my ears; his smug smirk burned into my memory. But it was Ryder’s presence that lingered, his quiet authority overshadowing everything else. He’d ended the confrontation with a single word, his tone calm and unyielding, and the others had listened without question.
The way they fell silent, the way they moved aside for him—it wasn’t just respect. It was fear.
What kind of man commands that kind of loyalty?
My fingers curled into fists inside my jacket pockets, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease. My breathing was still uneven, shallow, and ragged, as if I’d just run a mile instead of walking a few blocks. The memory of Ryder’s gaze sent a fresh wave of unease crawling up my spine.
It wasn’t just his authority or his presence that unsettled me. It was the way he looked at me—sharp and assessing like he was trying to figure out exactly where I fit into his world. Like I wasn’t just some random girl walking through his territory but something more.
I hated the way that thought made my stomach twist.
This was why I’d left.
This was why I’d worked so hard to build a life outside of the Vipers’ world. Because no matter how far I ran, no matter how much distance I tried to put between myself and my father’s name, it was never enough. The Black Vipers were a part of me, whether I wanted them to be or not.
But this was different. This wasn’t just about the Vipers or my father’s legacy. The Reapers were their own force, their own kind of chaos, and they weren’t just a threat to the club—they were a threat to me.
Ryder hadn’t said it outright, but the warning was there in every word, every look. I didn’t belong on their turf. And if I stayed in Ridgewood too long, I’d find out just how dangerous the Reapers could be.
The rain began to soak through my jacket, the cold seeping into my skin, but I didn’t speed up. The weight in my chest was too heavy, the memory of Ryder’s voice and my father’s warnings blending into a twisted echo in my mind.
You think you can walk away?
This world is unforgiving.
You don’t belong here.
It wasn’t just the Reapers that were dangerous. It was this whole world—the rules, the power struggles, the constant fight for dominance. Dad had tried to shield me from it, but he’d done it in the only way he knew how: by keeping me so close that I couldn’t breathe.
And now he was gone, and the cracks in the Vipers were already starting to show.
Maybe Ryder wasn’t wrong. Maybe I didn’t belong here.
But where else could I go?