Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DELILAH
T he ride to the Black Vipers’ clubhouse was longer than I remembered. The stretch of road twisted through the outskirts of town, every curve lined with memories I’d rather forget. My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, the leather cool against my palms. The faint scent of motor oil lingered in the car—a ghost of my father who refused to leave.
The clubhouse loomed ahead, a hulking structure surrounded by rows of bikes gleaming under the harsh glare of floodlights. It looked just as intimidating as it had when I was younger, though s familiarity dulled some of the edges. Black Vipers milled about outside, their laughter and cigarette smoke curling into the cool evening air. Their presence was a wall of leather and tattoos, their cuts bearing the insignia I’d grown up seeing but had never truly felt a part of.
The familiar low rumble of bikes greeted me as I pulled into the lot of the Black Vipers' clubhouse. The tension in my chest grew tighter with every passing second. The air here always felt heavier, charged with something dangerous, and tonight was no different. It was the kind of place where shadows lingered longer than they should, and secrets hung in the air like cigarette smoke.
I parked my car off to the side, far enough from the row of sleek, gleaming bikes that lined the front. My hands gripped the steering wheel for a moment longer, my pulse racing as I stared at the building. The Black Vipers' insignia was painted boldly across the metal doors, a warning to anyone who dared cross them. My father had made this place his kingdom, and now it belonged to Axel. But it still felt like I didn’t belong here. Not anymore.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. My boots crunched against the gravel as I made my way toward the entrance. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered through the walls, but they didn’t feel welcoming. Not tonight. I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning under the weight, and stepped inside.
The clubhouse was alive, but it was chaos. Smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of spilled beer and motor oil. Vipers crowded the room, their leather cuts glinting in the dim light as they played cards, drank, and talked in low voices. The music was loud, the bass thrumming through my chest, but it couldn’t drown out the hum of tension that seemed to follow me as I walked in.
Heads turned, conversations pausing as they took me in. A woman walking into a place like this alone was rare, even more so when she wasn’t just any woman—she was Axel Cruz’s sister.
“Delilah,” one of the guys called out, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Decided to pay the family a visit?”
“I’m not here to chat, Grady,” I shot back, my voice steady even though my stomach was a tangled knot. “Where’s Axel?”
His smirk faltered slightly, and he nodded toward the back. “Church. You know the drill.”
“Not tonight,” I said, brushing past him.
I didn’t wait for an invitation. My boots echoed against the floor as I made my way to the closed door at the far end of the room. Two Vipers stood on either side, their arms crossed, their stances wide. They exchanged a look as I approached.
“Delilah,” one of them started his tone low and warning. “Axel’s in a meeting.”
“And I’m here to talk to him,” I said, refusing to back down. My fists clenched at my sides as I glared at them. “You going to move, or are we going to make this a thing?”
The taller one raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. But after a moment of hesitation, they stepped aside. I didn’t wait for them to change their minds. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room went silent.
Axel sat at the head of the table, his expression sharp as his eyes snapped to me. His lieutenants flanked him, their faces a mix of confusion and annoyance. Papers were scattered across the table, the remnants of whatever plans they’d been discussing.
“Delilah,” Axel said, his voice low but firm. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I stepped forward, my pulse pounding as I met his gaze head-on. “I want answers, Axel. About Dad. About the Iron Serpents. About everything.”
The tension in the room thickened, the weight of my words settling like a stone. Axel’s jaw tightened, and he stood, his chair scraping against the floor.
“This isn’t the time or place,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Then make it the time,” I snapped. “Because I’m done being left in the dark. I want to know who killed Dad. And I want to know what the hell you’re doing with the Serpents.”
His expression darkened, a shadow passing over his face. “What I do isn’t your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t!” I shot back, my voice rising. “You’re working with them, aren’t you? After everything Dad did to keep this club out of their mess? What the hell are you thinking?”
Axel’s lieutenants shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between us. The tension was razor-sharp, the kind that made people wonder if they should step in or step back.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Axel said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Then tell me,” I challenged, stepping closer. “Tell me what I’m missing. Because right now, it looks like you’re dragging the Vipers into a war we can’t win.”
Axel’s nostrils flared, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For a moment, I thought he was going to lash out. But instead, he let out a slow, measured breath and leaned against the table, his gaze steady and unyielding.
“You don’t understand the bigger picture, Delilah,” he said, his voice tight. “This isn’t about Dad. It’s about survival. The Serpents have resources we need. Connections we can use.”
“And what’s the cost, Axel?” I demanded, my voice shaking with anger. “How many bodies are you willing to leave in your wake? How many of our own men have to die before you realize you’re playing right into their hands?”
His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Anger? I didn’t know. But he didn’t answer.
“Who killed Dad?” I pressed, my voice breaking. “Do you even care?”
The silence that followed was deafening. Axel’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the table for a split second before meeting mine again.
“Dad made enemies, Delilah. You know that as well as I do. Whoever pulled the trigger? They had their reasons.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration.
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Axel replied, his tone final.
I stared at him, my chest heaving as the weight of his words settled over me. He wasn’t going to tell me the truth. Maybe he didn’t even know it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” I said quietly, the fight draining out of me. “And you’re going to take the rest of us down with you.”
Axel didn’t respond, but the flicker of something in his eyes told me he’d heard me. He just didn’t want to admit it.
The tension between Axel and me was a living thing, heavy and oppressive as I stood in the middle of the Black Vipers’ clubhouse. I could feel the weight of his brothers’ stares, their unspoken judgment pressing against my back like a blade. But I didn’t care. I was done tiptoeing around this chaos.
Axel sat back in his president’s chair, his expression slipping into something colder, more guarded. That shift in him was familiar, a wall I’d seen him build countless times before when things got too close to the truth. His fingers drummed against the table, his calm too deliberate.
“You’re not telling me everything,” I said, crossing my arms and refusing to sit. “Don’t play games with me, Axel. I’m not in the mood.”
He gave me a long, assessing look, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You want the truth?” he said, his voice low but cutting. “Fine. The Serpents are sniffing around because Dad kept them on a short leash. He made sure they knew their place. Now that he’s gone, they think they can move in.”
“And what are you doing about it?” I asked, my frustration flaring. “Letting them? Working with them?”
Axel’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m holding this club together, Delilah. That’s what I’m doing. Something you walked away from, so don’t stand here and act like you know what it takes.”
“Don’t,” I snapped, leaning forward, my hands braced on the edge of the table. “Don’t turn this around on me. I left because I couldn’t live with what this life demanded. And now? I’m being dragged back into it whether I like it or not.”
Axel’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. “No one dragged you back, Delilah. You came looking for answers. You came to us.”
“Because you’re playing games!” I shot back, my voice rising. “You, the Reapers, the Serpents—you’re all tangled up in something, and none of you are being honest about it. And you know what? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being stuck in the middle of whatever power grab this is.”
Axel stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “You think this is a game?” he asked, his voice sharp and cold. “You think I want this? I didn’t ask to lead, Delilah. But someone had to step up when Dad got himself killed.”
The mention of our father hit like a slap, the weight of his words settling in my chest like lead. But I refused to back down. “Then tell me the truth, Axel. Stop feeding me half-answers and tell me what you know.”
For a moment, I thought he might. His gaze flickered, the mask slipping just enough to reveal the weight he carried. But then it was gone, replaced by that impenetrable wall of indifference.
“Go home, Delilah,” he said, his tone final. “This isn’t your fight.”
“It became my fight the moment Dad was killed,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And if you think keeping me in the dark is going to protect me, you’re wrong.”
Axel didn’t respond. He just stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The silence between us stretched, heavy with unspoken truths, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I turned on my heel, my boots echoing against the floor, and walked out, the noise of the clubhouse fading behind me as I stepped into the cool night air. The stares followed me, the whispers barely audible over the pounding in my ears. But I didn’t look back. The weight in my chest was unbearable, a mix of anger, frustration, and something that felt like betrayal.
The truth was, Axel knew more than he was letting on. He always had. And as much as I wanted to believe he was keeping quiet to protect me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was protecting himself, too.
I’d come here for answers, and all I’d found were more questions. And as I climbed back into my car, gripped the steering wheel, and slammed the door, one thought kept running through my mind:
Ryder was right.
Axel was going to burn everything down. And I didn’t know if I could stop it.
The Black Vipers, the Crimson Reapers, the Iron Serpents—they were all playing a game I wanted no part of. But somehow, I’d been dragged into the middle of it anyway.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get out.
The house was quiet when I walked in, the stillness pressing down on me like a weight. The faint scent of motor oil lingered in the air, stubborn and unyielding, mingling with the faintest hint of my mother’s lavender cleaner. The living room was just as I’d left it—worn furniture, cluttered tables, and faded photos lining the walls. A time capsule of a life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.
Dropping my keys onto the counter, I moved to the couch and sank into it, my head falling back against the cushions. My eyes drifted to the wall across from me, to the photographs I’d grown up with but rarely allowed myself to look at. My father, Axel, my mother, and —frozen in moments that felt like they belonged to someone else.
My gaze lingered on one photo in particular: the four of us standing in front of Dad’s Harley, Axel, and me sandwiched between our parents. Axel was grinning like he had the world at his feet, his arm slung over my shoulder as if to say we were in this together. Dad stood tall, his hand resting on Mom’s shoulder, her smile soft but distant.
The memory came rushing back, unbidden and sharp.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke and tension, the kind of tension that seemed to seep into the walls. I was thirteen, sitting on the edge of the couch with my legs tucked under me, watching Axel shuffle a deck of cards. He was grinning like he’d just pulled off the greatest trick in the world, the picture of confidence even as a teenager.
“Ready to lose?” he taunted, flicking the cards expertly between his hands.
“You wish,” I shot back, my tone sharper than I meant it to be. I was tired, my head pounding from the constant thrum of noise that never seemed to leave this house.
Dad was at the kitchen table, his boots propped on the chair opposite him, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wasn’t paying us any attention, his focus on a ledger spread out in front of him. His cut hung off the back of his chair, the Black Vipers’ insignia visible even in the dim light.
“Axel quit messing around,” Dad said without looking up, his voice low and edged with irritation. “You’ve got real work to do.”
Axel rolled his eyes but set the cards down. “It’s just a break, Dad.”
“There are no breaks,” Dad snapped, his gaze finally lifting. He didn’t yell—he didn’t have to. His tone carried enough weight to make Axel’s grin falter.
Mom hovered near the counter, washing a dish that didn’t need washing. She hadn’t said a word all night, her silence louder than anything else in the room. I caught her glancing at Dad out of the corner of her eye, her movements tense and deliberate.
“And you,” Dad said, turning his gaze to me. My stomach dropped. “You’re not too young to pull your weight around here, Delilah.”
“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat.
“Don’t talk back,” he said, his voice flat. “You think you’re too good for this life? You’re not.”
The air felt colder, heavier, as his words sank in. I clenched my fists in my lap, my nails biting into my palms. Axel shot me a look, something between sympathy and annoyance, but he didn’t say anything. He never did when it came to Dad.
“You’re a Cruz,” Dad continued, his attention already drifting back to his ledger. “That means something. Start acting like it.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. The weight of his expectations—his disappointment—settled over me like a shroud. It didn’t matter what I wanted, what I dreamed of. All that mattered was the name I carried and the world he’d built around it.
The memory dissolved, but the heaviness in my chest lingered, wrapping around me like a second skin I couldn’t shed. I turned away from the photo, my movements sharp, my breath uneven. Every corner of this house was a reminder of him—of the man who’d built a kingdom out of blood and smoke and demanded we all live under its weight. Dad hadn’t been the type to give affection or praise. Love, to him, wasn’t soft; it was a blade, sharp and unforgiving, meant to cut you into shape.
I stopped in front of the kitchen table, my fingers brushing the worn edge of the wood. The faint scent of smoke lingered there, stubborn and inescapable, like a ghost that refused to leave. It was the same table where Axel had once played cards and laughed, where Mom had stood silently, cleaning a dish that didn’t need cleaning. And it was where Dad had sat, ledger open, the world under his thumb—or so he thought.
Axel’s words from earlier rattled in my mind, his voice low and accusing: “You came to us.”
I hadn’t wanted to. But where else could I go? The Crimson Reapers, the Iron Serpents, the Black Vipers—they were all circling, their motives hidden behind leather cuts and sharp smiles. And me? I was caught in the middle, a pawn in a game I didn’t understand and had no desire to play. Yet here I was, standing in the heart of it all, pulled back into the house I’d sworn to leave behind.
“Start acting like it.”
Dad’s voice echoed in my head, as cold and demanding as it had been all those years ago. His words weren’t just a memory—they were a weight I’d carried with me, a chain I couldn’t break. No matter how far I ran, it always led back to this house, to this life, to the shadows he’d cast over all of us.
I sank into one of the chairs, the wood creaking under my weight. My head fell into my hands, my fingers gripping my hair as I tried to breathe through the mounting pressure in my chest. The past, the present, Axel’s recklessness—it all pressed down on me, suffocating until it felt like I was drowning in a sea of things I couldn’t control.
I didn’t want this life. I never had. But maybe wanting didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it never had.
I lifted my head and stared at the table, at the scratches and burns that told the story of a thousand nights I wished I could forget. Dad might’ve been gone, but his presence was everywhere, and his legacy was alive and breathing in Axel’s every move.
The thought made my stomach churn. Axel, the Reapers, the Serpents—they were all pulling at threads, unraveling whatever fragile peace had existed. And I was caught in the center of it, powerless to stop the spiral.
But I wasn’t powerless to walk away. Not yet.
The question was: Could I? Or was it already too late?