Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hex
I knew who was here the second I heard those pipes rumbling up my driveway. That distinctive rumble—deep, throaty, unmistakable—sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the autumn air. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in decades, a sound I’d convinced myself I’d never hear again.
Thirty-three years. Thirty-three fucking years I’d stayed off the radar, kept my head down, built a life that had nothing to do with cuts and colors and the blood-soaked world I’d left behind.
I’d become someone else entirely—a quiet man with a small farm, a man who fixed engines and kept to himself, a man whose biggest concern was whether the fence in the north pasture needed mending.
And now Dutch and Smokey—two of the only brothers I’d ever trusted, two men I would’ve died for back when that word “brother” actually meant something—were standing in my yard, asking me to throw it all away.
Asking me like it was nothing. Like I hadn’t spent more than three decades building walls high enough to keep that world out.
I stormed inside, my boots hitting the concrete floor hard enough to echo off the walls, the sound bouncing back at me like an accusation.
The motorcycle sat there in the shadows where I’d left it after pulling out the ledger, a ghost from another lifetime, dust covering chrome that used to shine like a promise.
My hands found the handlebars instinctively, muscle memory taking over before my brain could catch up, gripping them like they could anchor me to something solid while everything else threatened to come apart.
The leather was cracked now, dried out from years of neglect, but it still felt familiar. Too familiar.
“Hex, brother,” Dutch said behind me, his voice carrying that same gravelly tone I remembered from a thousand rides, a thousand nights, a thousand moments when we’d been young and stupid and thought we were invincible.
When we thought loyalty and leather meant something more than broken bones and broken promises.
“It’s time to come out of hiding. Time to come home. ”
Home. The word hit me like a punch to the gut.
Something snapped inside me. Something that had been wound tight for thirty-three years finally broke loose.
I spun on him, my finger jabbing the air between us like a weapon, like I could physically push away what he was asking of me.
“NO!” The word came out harder than I intended, echoing off the barn walls, ricocheting through the space like a gunshot.
“I’m done. I want nothing to do with the Silver Shadows or that life again.
You hear me? I have a good thing here. A quiet life.
A clean life. Not gonna fuck it all away because some little shit can’t control his fucking temper.
” My chest was heaving now, years of buried anger rising to the surface.
“I paid my dues. I’ve got nothing left to give. ”
Dutch didn’t flinch. He just stood there, weathered and patient, like he’d expected this exact reaction.
Probably had. The man had a sixth sense for how people would respond to bad news, especially me.
He knew me better than most—better than I knew myself half the time.
His eyes, sharp and calculating beneath those heavy brows, never left my face as he waited for the explosion to pass.
Smokey stepped forward, his boots heavy on the concrete floor, his expression grim and carved from stone.
“It’s more than that, Hex, and you fucking know it.
All the secrets are spilling out faster than King, Reaper or Montana can stop them.
The whole damn foundation is crumbling, and there’s no putting this genie back in the bottle. ”
“That’s not my fucking problem,” I sneered, turning back to the motorcycle, gripping the handlebars until my knuckles went white. My jaw clenched so tight I could feel my teeth grinding together. “And you know it. I’m out. Have been for years.”
“We’ve lost brothers, Hex.” Dutch’s voice dropped lower, heavier, carrying the weight of men who’d died for sins they didn’t commit—men whose blood stained ground they never should have been standing on.
“Good brothers who had nothing to do with this shit. Men with families, with kids who’ll grow up without fathers now.
You could have stopped this a long time ago.
I get why you left. Christ, I even respect it.
But the time for running is over. The time for hiding behind your exile is done. ”
The words hit like a physical blow, like a sucker punch straight to the gut that knocked all the air from my lungs.
I leaned against the workbench, my head hanging low, the weight of thirty-three years pressing down on my shoulders until I thought they might break, until I thought I might just collapse right there on the oil-stained floor.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, hollow and defeated.
“Nothing good will come from the truth. Only more blood, more bodies, more ghosts to haunt us. The truth won’t bring anyone back. ”
“Someone want to explain to me what the fuck you are talking about?”
I looked up to find Mercy stepping forward, Torment beside him.
The VP’s hand was still holding onto the shotgun I’d shoved at him earlier, his knuckles white against the barrel, his eyes sharp and assessing as they moved between me and the others.
He had that look men got when shit was about to hit the fan—alert, ready, dangerous.
Torment looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing, his brow furrowed in concentration, his therapist brain working overtime to connect dots he couldn’t see yet.
His gaze kept flickering between me and the barn entrance, like he was cataloging every micro-expression, every shift in body language.
I still didn’t like that fucker. My daughter could do way better than him. Way better than some outsider who thought he could waltz into our world and understand it, understand her.
“Dominic?”
The sound of her voice stopped everything. The air itself seemed to freeze, the dust motes suspended in the shafts of light cutting through the barn’s shadows.
I turned toward the barn entrance and there she was—Hannah, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the doorway, looking exactly like she had the first time I’d seen her all those years ago at that county fair.
Still the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, with that same wild honey-colored hair catching the light, those same green eyes that could see straight through every wall I’d ever built.
Still the only thing in this world that made sense when everything else was chaos and blood and broken promises.
I moved quickly, crossing the distance between us in three strides, my boots heavy on the concrete floor, and wrapped my arms around her.
She fit against me perfectly, like she always had, like she always would, her head tucking just under my chin the way it had the first time I held her in my arms. Her hands came up to rest on my chest, right over the scars and the tattoos and the heart that had only ever beat for her, and when she looked up at me, I saw everything I’d been running from reflected in her eyes—fear, love, determination, and that unwavering strength that had kept our family together through hell itself.
“You’ve been running from the truth most of your life, Dominic,” she said softly, her voice carrying that steel core that had made me fall in love with her in the first place, that quiet strength that could bring grown men to their knees.
“And now our daughter is caught in this web of lies, tangled up in secrets that should have died decades ago. If your truth can help her, if it can keep her safe, then speak it. Shout it to the rooftops. Do it for Brandy, for your mother, for your sister, for everything you’ve lost and everything we still have left to lose.
Take back what rightfully belongs to you. ”
I heard footsteps behind me, followed by Torment’s voice, quieter than I’d heard it before, almost humble, almost broken.
“Hex. I know you don’t like me. Hell, I know you probably hate my guts.
I don’t even like the way I’ve acted, the things I’ve said, the disrespect I’ve shown.
But the woman I love, the mother of my child and your grandchild, is out there somewhere, running—scared and alone.
If you can help me find her in any way, if there’s anything you know or anything you can do, I would greatly appreciate that. I’m begging you.”
The woman I love.
Those four words hit me harder than I expected. This wasn’t some punk kid trying to act tough anymore. This was a father. A man in love. A man terrified of losing everything that mattered.
I looked over my shoulder at him, really looked at him for the first time since he’d shown up on my doorstep with desperation in his eyes.
Saw past the club affiliation to the man underneath.
Past the ink covering his arms. Saw the same desperate fear I’d felt when Hannah had been in danger all those years ago, when I’d thought I might lose her forever.
The same willingness to burn the world down to keep her safe, to tear apart anyone who stood in the way, to sacrifice everything and everyone if it meant she’d survive.
Maybe my daughter hadn’t chosen so badly after all. Maybe she’d seen something in him that I’d been too stubborn, too protective, too blinded by my own prejudices to recognize.
I looked at Torment and nodded, just once. “Fine. But you better be ready for what comes next.”