Chapter Thirteen, Savage Loyalty (Crimson Reapers MC #1)

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RYDER

T he night was sharp, the cold biting through the leather of my jacket as we approached the warehouse. Our bikes rolled in low and menacing, their growls a warning to anyone dumb enough to be listening. Gravel crunched under our tires as we pulled to a stop just outside the building’s shadowy silhouette.

I killed the engine, swinging my leg over the bike in one fluid motion. The others followed suit, moving with the kind of practiced ease that only came from years of this life. Torch was at my side instantly, his knife already in hand.

“This better be worth it,” Torch muttered, his voice low and tense. His eyes scanned the perimeter, sharp and unyielding.

“It is,” I replied, my tone clipped. “It has to be.”

Torch shot me a look, his expression dark. “You sure about this, Wraith? Place looks dead.”

I didn’t respond immediately, my eyes narrowing on the faint glow of light filtering through the warehouse’s cracks. My instincts screamed at me to pull back, but we were too far in to turn around now. “It’s not dead,” I said finally, my voice quiet but firm. “Stay sharp.”

Chains took the lead, his massive frame moving toward the door like a battering ram. The rest of us fanned out, our boots crunching softly against the gravel as we approached.

Torch glanced at me again, his knife glinting faintly in the moonlight. “This intel came too easy. Feels like a setup.”

“It might be,” I said, my hand drifting to my gun. “But we’re here now.”

Chains reached the door first, his hand hovering over the handle as he glanced back at me. “Call it, Wraith.”

I gave him a curt nod.

With a single, powerful kick, Chains sent the door flying open, the rusty hinges shrieking like a wounded animal. The sound echoed into the still night, and we all tensed, waiting for the inevitable.

The warehouse’s interior was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor. The air was thick, stale, and laced with the acrid stench of oil and mildew. Crates were stacked haphazardly against the walls, and an old forklift sat abandoned in the corner like a relic.

“Clear,” Chains called, his deep voice reverberating off the walls.

Torch moved in beside me, his steps quiet but deliberate. He crouched near a stack of crates, prying one open with his knife. “Bike parts,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “Nothing useful.”

“This doesn’t sit right,” Smoke said, his voice low as he scanned the shadows. “Feels like we’re walking into something.”

“You’re not wrong,” I muttered, my eyes narrowing as I stepped deeper into the warehouse. My hand tightened around my gun, every nerve in my body on high alert.

Torch straightened, his knife still in hand. “What’s the call, Wraith?”

“Keep looking,” I said. “If there’s something here, we’ll find it.”

We moved cautiously, our steps echoing in the oppressive silence. My gaze swept the room, catching every shadow and flicker of movement. Something felt off—too still, too quiet.

Then I heard it.

The sharp click of a gun being cocked.

“Down!” I barked, diving behind a stack of crates as the first shot rang out.

Chaos erupted.

Bullets tore through the air, slamming into metal and concrete with deafening cracks. Sparks flew as ricochets danced wildly around the room, and the warehouse filled with the roar of gunfire.

Figures emerged from the shadows, their leather cuts emblazoned with the Vipers’ insignia.

The fight was brutal, every moment a blur of sound and movement. Chains charged forward, his shotgun booming as he cleared a path through the chaos. Torch moved like a predator, his knife flashing as he took down anyone who got too close.

“Wraith!” Torch’s voice cut through the din, sharp and urgent. “Over here!”

I moved quickly, ducking behind cover as bullets whizzed past me. When I reached Torch, he was crouched near a stack of crates, his knife buried in the lock of a metal box.

“What is it?” I demanded, my voice tight.

Torch pried the box open, revealing a stack of documents and ledgers. The Iron Serpents’ insignia was stamped across most of them, but one name jumped out immediately.

Axel Cruz.

I grabbed the papers, flipping through them quickly. The documents detailed shipments, payment schedules, and meeting locations. Axel wasn’t just involved—he was working directly with the Serpents.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, shoving the papers into a bag.

“What the hell is Cruz playing at?” Torch growled, his eyes narrowing.

“Something big,” I replied, my voice dark. “And we’re going to find out what.”

The gunfire slowed, the last of the Vipers either dead or retreating. Chains stood over one of the bodies, his shotgun resting against his shoulder.

“We lost two,” he said grimly.

My jaw tightened, rage simmering just beneath the surface. “They’ll pay for it,” I said, my voice cold and final.

As we mounted up, Torch shot me a look. “What’s the plan, Wraith?”

I tightened my grip on the handlebars, the stolen documents weighing heavily in my saddlebag.

“The plan,” I said, my tone sharp as a blade, “is to remind Cruz what happens when you fuck with the Reapers.”

The ride back to the clubhouse was a blur of asphalt and rage, the cold night air slicing across my face like a blade. The silence between us was loud, deafening in its weight, the kind of silence that wasn’t born from calm but from restraint—barely leashed anger simmering just beneath the surface. My grip on the handlebars tightened, the leather of my gloves creaking as I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling. The documents in my saddlebag felt heavier with every mile, a grim reminder of what we found.

The roar of our engines died as we pulled into the lot, the floodlights casting sharp shadows against the rough exterior of the clubhouse. It stood like a fortress, its scarred walls a testament to the blood and sweat that had built it. My boots hit the gravel with purpose as I dismounted, my brothers following suit, their expressions as grim as my own. No words were exchanged; none were needed.

“Church. Now,” I barked, my voice cutting through the stillness like a whip.

The crew moved with purpose, the tension between us palpable as we filed inside. Chains was the last to enter, his massive frame lingering in the doorway for a moment as he scanned the lot, ensuring no eyes were watching before closing the door with a heavy thud.

Inside, the room carried its own weight. The long table stretched before us, its surface marred with scars and stains—each mark a story of battles fought, decisions made, lives lost. I took my seat at the head next to Grim, the position both a burden and a weapon. Torch and Chains flanked me, their presence grounding, their loyalty unwavering.

The rest of the crew settled in, their postures rigid, their gazes sharp. Smoke’s fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against the table, his frustration barely contained. Razor sat with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack.

I didn’t waste time. Reaching into the saddlebag, I yanked out the documents and tossed them onto the table. The papers spilled out in a chaotic heap, the Iron Serpents’ insignia glaring up at us like a slap in the face. I grabbed the top ledger and slammed it onto the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.

“This,” I said, my voice low but carrying enough weight to demand attention, “is what we pulled from the warehouse. Axel Cruz’s name is all over it.”

Torch reached for one of the papers, his sharp eyes scanning the text as his jaw tightened. “Shipping schedules. Payment logs. Deals. He’s working with the Serpents to move weapons and run joint operations. He’s not just dipping a toe in—he’s neck-deep.”

“Deep enough to set us up,” Chains growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. His hands flexed on the table, his knuckles white. “Two of ours, gone. For what? So Cruz and the Serpents can build their empire on our backs?”

The room erupted. Voices clashed, anger spilling out in a wave of frustration and grief. Smoke slammed his fist against the table, the sharp crack silencing the chaos for a moment. “We can’t let this slide, Wraith. Two of our men are dead because of that bastard. We have to hit back. Hard.”

I raised a hand, the room falling silent again. My gaze swept over my crew, hard and unyielding. “We will,” I said, my tone cold, calculated. “But we’re not rushing in blind. Cruz thinks he’s got the upper hand, but these” I tapped the documents “say otherwise. We’ve got his schedules, his suppliers, his goddamn blueprint. And we’re going to use it.”

Torch leaned back in his chair, his knife spinning between his fingers like an extension of himself. “What’s the play, Wraith? Cruz has the Vipers and the Serpents at his back. That’s a lot of firepower.”

“Good,” I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. “I don’t want easy. I want him to feel every second of this. We’re going to bleed him dry, starting with his supply lines. We cut off his weapons and his cash flow. Make him scramble. And when he’s down to nothing, we take him out.”

Chains nodded, his expression grim. “And the Serpents? They’re in this just as deep as Cruz.”

“We’ll deal with them,” I said, my voice a promise, hard and final. “One way or another.”

Torch’s smirk matched my own, the blade in his hand still spinning. “This is going to get messy.”

“I like messy,” I replied, the room erupting into grim laughter. The sound was sharp, edged with the kind of resolve that only came from men ready for war.

As the laughter faded, the room settled into a cold, focused silence. Plans were made, assignments given, and the gears of vengeance grinding into motion. But even as I leaned back in my chair, my mind drifted to Delilah. Axel Cruz wasn’t just a name on a ledger to her—he was blood.

And blood always complicated things.

* * *

The ride to Delilah’s place wasn’t long, but it gave me enough time to stew. The streets were quiet, the cold night air biting at my face as I rolled through the neighborhood. Her house came into view, the familiar silhouette against the dim glow of the streetlamp. My chest tightened as I pulled into the driveway, the roar of my bike cutting through the stillness before I killed the engine.

The house was dark except for the faint glow of a light in the living room. I climbed off my bike, my boots crunching against the gravel as I made my way to the door. I didn’t bother knocking.

The door wasn’t locked, so I pushed it open, stepping inside with deliberate purpose. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of something sweet—maybe candles or whatever Delilah used to make this place hers.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a blanket draped across her lap. She had a book in her hand, but the way her shoulders tensed when I entered told me she wasn’t as lost in the story as she wanted to be.

“Ryder,” she said, her voice low and wary. She set the book down, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Got a few questions for you, kitten,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended as I stepped closer. “Figured I’d get them answered while you’re not busy entertaining anyone else.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “What the hell do you want?”

I stopped just short of the coffee table, my eyes locked on hers. “I need to know what Axel’s doing with the Iron Serpents. You’ve got to know something.”

She blinked, genuine surprise flashing across her face before it hardened into something more defiant. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, her voice steady but edged with frustration. “Axel doesn’t exactly share his plans with me.”

“You’re his sister,” I said, my voice low, menacing. “You grew up in this life. You’re telling me you don’t have the slightest clue what your brother’s up to?”

She stood then, the blanket falling away as she crossed the small space between us, her eyes blazing with anger. “I’m telling you, I don’t know!” she snapped. “The Iron Serpents and the Black Vipers aren’t friends. They’ve got history—bad history. Axel hates them as much as you do.”

“That didn’t stop him from working with them,” I shot back, my chest tightening as I thought about the documents we’d found. “We’ve got proof, Delilah. He’s dealing weapons with them, running joint ops. That’s not just ‘bad history.’ That’s betrayal.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, something like disbelief flickering across her face. “Axel wouldn’t do that,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“He would,” I said, my tone softening just enough to cut deeper. “And he is. Two of my men are dead because of him.” "You're lying, Delilah," I growled, raking a hand through my disheveled hair. "I know you know more about the Black Vipers' operations. About what your brother is planning."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the rickety wooden table. "I've told you I don’t know anything, Ryder. And I don’t give a fuck"

In three quick strides, I closed the distance between us. Before I could react, my hand shot out and wrapped around her throat. I slammed her back against the wall, pinning her there as I leaned in close.

The sudden impact knocked the breath from her lungs. My face was inches from hers, my hot breath fanning across her cheeks. My grip on her throat tightened, not enough to choke, but a clear threat.

"I'm done playing games," I snarled. "Tell me what you know. Now."

Anger and defiance flared within her, overriding any fear. She glared into my eyes and growled, "Fuck you."

A dangerous smile curved my lips. "I plan to," I purred.

Before she could process my words, my mouth crashed down on hers. The kiss was brutal and punishing, all clashing teeth and battling tongues. I bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Without breaking the kiss, I used my free hand to undo my belt. I brushed my fingers against her stomach as I worked to free my dick.

My hands slid lower, gripping her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. Delilah wrapped her legs around my hips, her back pressed against the cool wall. Our kisses grew more urgent and hungry. I trailed my lips along her jaw, down her neck, nipping and sucking as she threaded her fingers through my hair.

With a deep growl that rumbled through his chest, he pushed aside her shorts and underwear. He could feel the heat of her, wet and ready for him. In one smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She cried out in pleasure and pain.

"You love it," Ryder demanded, gripping her hips tightly. "Say it."

She refused to give him the satisfaction, biting down on her lip. In response, he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into her. Her body tensed, and she saw stars behind her closed eyelids.

"Say it," Ryder urged again, setting a punishing rhythm.

She couldn't hold back any longer, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she gave in. "Yes!" she cried out, feeling a mix of ecstasy and self-disgust.

"That's right," Ryder panted, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks. "You're my little whore."

She whimpered and arched her back as he continued his powerful thrusts, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her. The sensations were overwhelming–the stretch, the friction, the pleasure mingled with shame.

"Yes," she moaned, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

Ryder's pace increased, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She was getting closer and closer to the edge, feeling that familiar tension building low in her belly.

"Look at me," Ryder commanded in a rough voice filled with lust.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting my intense gaze. I could see the desire in her dilated pupils, and a bead of sweat glistened on her brow. She was at the mercy of my relentless thrusts, completely under my control.

"You want this cock, don't you?" I growled, savoring the power I held over her. "Beg for it like the little slut you are."

I watched as she fought against her own pride, wanting to refuse but unable to resist the pleasure I was giving her.

"Please," she whimpered, surrendering herself to me completely. "Don't stop."

A wicked grin spread across my face as I slowed my pace, teasing her with each languid thrust. Her whimpers only fueled the fire burning inside me.

"That's it," I purred, reveling in her desperation. "Let me hear how much you want it."

But before she could beg any further, I pulled out suddenly and spun her around. She gasped in surprise as I bent her over the table next to us, eagerly anticipating what was to come.

And with one swift motion, I claimed her again.

She cried out, her body convulsing beneath me as I filled her once more. My hips pounded against hers, the table groaning with each forceful thrust.

I tangled my fingers in her hair, using it to control her movements as I took her harder and deeper. The slight pain only seemed to heighten her pleasure, eliciting a low moan from her throat.

"Let me hear you," I growled, my voice thick with desire.

I yanked her hair again, relishing the way it made her arch her back and tighten around me. With each tug, I drove into her with even more ferocity, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her repeatedly.

The table protested beneath us, but I couldn't care less as I lost myself in the intense pleasure coursing through me. My grip on the table tightened, my knuckles turning white as I gave in to the euphoria of the moment.

My breath hot against her ear as I lean in closer, growling words of heated desire that make her shiver. The musky scent of our mingled sweat fills my nostrils, intoxicating me further.

She arches her back, pressing against my chest as I feel the rapid pounding of her heart match mine. I want more, craving that final push over the edge. She moves one hand from the table and traces a path down her stomach, finally reaching the aching heat between her thighs.

Watching her fingers circle her sensitive flesh, matching my frenzied rhythm, drives me wild with lust. Tension coils tighter and tighter within me.

"Look at you," I growl, my voice husky with desire. "Such a needy little slut, always wanting more."

Her gasps and moans only heighten my own pleasure. As she nears climax, I thrust deeper inside her, feeling her inner walls clench around me.

"Please," she whimpers, and I can't even be sure what she's begging for.

I grip her hair harder, pulling her head back with each powerful thrust. The table creaks beneath us, our bodies slick with sweat as we chase our release. She's so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"Come for me," I command. "Now."

Her body trembles, and I can feel her inner walls gripping my thick shaft tightly as she climaxes. My own release is close behind as I thrust deeper into her perfect spot.

"That's it, baby," I purr. "Let go for me."

She screamed as the dam broke, her body convulsing in waves of pleasure. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she climaxed, her back arching and her pussy clenching around me.

"God, you're so fucking tight," I grunted. "You're mine, and I'm gonna make sure you never forget it."

I thrust harder, chasing my own release. She was still trembling from her orgasm, her body oversensitive to every touch. Her moans and whimpers only made me want her more.

I gripped her hips tightly, leaving marks with my fingers as I thrust deeper and faster. My grunts became louder, my need growing more urgent with each passing second.

And then, with one final roar, I pulled out and came all over her ass, marking her as mine. She was mine now, completely and utterly mine.

I watched as she spun around, anger flashing in her eyes and her chest heaving with fury. Her words spewed out like venom, directed at me. "You bastard!" she spat, her hands reaching back to feel the remnants of my release on her skin. She looked disgusted and I couldn't help but smirk at the sight.

As she fumbled to fix her clothes, I tucked myself back into my pants, savoring the feeling of her still lingering on my skin. The sound of my zipper seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the room. I leisurely buckled my belt, taking my time to appreciate her disheveled form.

"What's gotten into you, darling?" I drawled, my voice husky from our recent exertions. "I thought you would enjoy a little keepsake."

She snarled at me, trying frantically to straighten herself out. I could see the mix of arousal and rage coursing through her body. The shorts that were once tight against her skin now clung uncomfortably to her sweat-dampened body.

"You're lying, Delilah," I growled, raking a hand through my disheveled hair. "I know you know more about the Black Vipers' operations. About what your brother is planning."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the rickety wooden table. "I've told you I don’t know anything, Ryder. And I don’t give a fuck."

The sudden impact knocked the breath from her lungs. My face was inches from hers, his hot breath fanning across her cheeks. My grip on her throat tightened, not enough to choke but a clear threat.

"I'm done playing games," I snarled. "Tell me what you know. Now."

Anger and defiance flared within me, overriding my fear. She glared into glared into my eyes and growled, "Fuck you."

A dangerous smile curved my lips. "I plan to," I purred.

Before she could process my words, my mouth crashed down on hers. The kiss was brutal and punishing, all clashing teeth and battling tongues. I bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Without breaking the kiss, I used my free hand to undo my belt. I brushed my fingers against her stomach as I worked to free my dick.

His hands slid lower, gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped her legs around my hips, her back pressed against the cool wall. Our kisses grew more urgent and hungry. I trailed my lips along her jaw, down her neck, nipping and sucking as she threaded her fingers through my hair.

With a deep growl that rumbled through my chest, I pushed aside her shorts and underwear. I could feel the heat of her, wet and ready for me. In one smooth motion, I entered her, filling her completely. She cried out in pleasure and pain.

"You love it," I demanded, gripping her hips tightly. "Say it."

She refused to give him the satisfaction, biting down on her lip. In response, I pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into her. Her body tensed, and she saw stars behind her closed eyelids.

"Say it," Ryder urged again, setting a punishing rhythm.

She couldn't hold back any longer, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she gave in. "Yes!" she cried out, feeling a mix of ecstasy and self-disgust.

"That's right," Ryder panted, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks. "You're my little whore."

She whimpered and arched her back as he continued his powerful thrusts, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her. The sensations were overwhelming - the stretch, the friction, the pleasure mingled with shame.

"Yes," she moaned, torn between pushing him away and pulling me closer.