Vengeance
He couldn't take his eyes off the envelope with his name on it, written in Savage's unmistakable handwriting.
The same block letters he'd watched the older man scribble across motorcycle part orders and grocery lists twenty years ago.
His chest tightened until breathing hurt more than the bullet wound.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Doc folded his arms over his chest. "I thought so too."
Doc smiled sadly. "You've wanted to know for twenty years."
"I wanted to know why he helped me."
"Then open it,” Doc said. Chloe stayed quiet beside him.
She wasn't asking questions. She seemed to understand this wasn't about her.
Vengeance carefully broke the wax seal. Inside was a single folded letter, nothing more.
There was no grand speech, no pages of instructions—just one sheet of paper. His hands trembled as he unfolded it.
Kid,
If you're reading this, then one of two things happened. Either Dante found you, or you finally found the courage to stand against him. Knowing you, it's probably both.
A lump formed in Vengeance's throat as Savage's voice echoed so clearly in his head, he could almost hear him.
First things first...
None of what your father did was ever your fault. I know you never believed me when I told you that. Maybe you'll believe me now.
His vision blurred. He remembered arguing with Savage in Doc's clinic.
"I'm his son."
"That's biology," Savage had answered. "Family's a choice." Vengeance swallowed hard before continuing.
You've spent your whole life trying not to become Dante. Stop wasting energy trying not to be him and start figuring out who you are instead.
A tear landed on the paper, and he quickly wiped it away.
Second...
If Dante's going after Chloe, then he finally became exactly what I always knew he'd become.
Vengeance's pulse quickened because Savage knew—he’d always known.
He never wanted my territory. He never wanted my club. He wanted revenge. Men like Dante can't stand losing. They especially can't stand losing to someone they think is beneath them.
Vengeance clenched his jaw because that sounded exactly like Dante.
If he comes for Chloe, she'll need somebody willing to die before letting him touch her. I hope that's you.
The room disappeared. All Vengeance could see was Savage standing outside Doc's clinic all those years ago. One hand wrapped around a cup of terrible coffee, and the other holding a wrench he'd been using to fix Vengeance's bike.
"What happens if he comes back?" sixteen-year-old Vengeance asked.
Savage hadn't even looked up. "Then somebody stands in front of the people he wants."
"Who?"
"Whoever's got the guts."
His breathing became uneven, and he forced himself to finish the letter.
One last thing.
You aren't responsible for the sins of your father. But you are responsible for what you do next. Make me proud.
—Savage
The only sound in the cabin was the crackling fire. Vengeance slowly lowered the letter. He couldn't speak or even think. For twenty years, he'd believed Savage had forgotten about him. Instead, the man had planned for this day.
"He believed in you." Chloe's voice was barely above a whisper.
Vengeance laughed, and it sounded broken. "I never understood why."
"I think I do." He looked at her. "My dad—” She smiled through tears. "Had a habit of adopting people."
That made him smile. "He really did,” Doc agreed.
"He saw the good in people before anyone else could,” Chloe said.
Doc nodded. "He sure as hell did." Vengeance folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope. His eyes drifted to the Colt lying inside the box, and he frowned.
"What's this?" he asked.
Doc picked up the pistol. "He left this too."
"It's his,” Chloe said. “Or it was his.”
Doc turned the weapon over before offering it grip-first. "He wanted you to have it."
Vengeance didn't take it. "I can't."
"You can,” Doc insisted.
"No."
Doc sighed. "He carried this gun for nearly thirty years."
"I know,” Vengeance said.
"He trusted exactly two people with it."
Vengeance looked confused. "Bowie—” Doc nodded. "And you,” Doc said.
His heart stopped. "What?"
"You were sixteen when he showed you how to clean it." A memory surfaced of Savage sitting on the porch outside Doc's clinic. The pistol was broken down into pieces across an old towel.
"Always respect your weapon," Savage had said. "Never worship it." Vengeance slowly accepted the Colt. It felt heavier than he remembered, not because of the steel, but because of what it meant—family, trust and even redemption.
He looked down at Savage’s initials engraved into the wooden grip, and his throat tightened. "I don't deserve this."
"No," Doc said calmly. "You earned it." Before Vengeance could answer, a knock echoed through the cabin, and everyone froze. Nobody had knocked on Doc’s door for ages. The old guy lived alone.
Vengeance immediately handed the Colt back to Doc and drew his own pistol. The pain in his side flared as he stood. Chloe instinctively moved behind him, and he noticed that she'd chosen to stand there not because she was afraid, but because she trusted him to protect her.
Doc quietly killed the lantern nearest the window, and the cabin fell into shadows. There was another knock, and then a familiar voice called through the front door. “It’s Bowie."
Chloe gasped. "Dad?"
Vengeance's heart lurched because Bowie wasn't supposed to know where they were. The voice came again. "Princess.” Only Bowie called Chloe that.
She took a step toward the door, and Vengeance caught her wrist. "Wait."
She looked at him in confusion. "That's my father."
"Maybe."
"What do you mean maybe?" Vengeance's instincts screamed at him. Everything about this felt wrong. Bowie would never walk up to an unsecured cabin and announce himself—never.
Vengeance slowly approached the window and shifted the curtain just enough to look outside, and his blood ran cold. A man stood on the porch wearing a leather kutte, but even in the darkness, Vengeance could see the mistake. The patch had been sewn on upside down.
He immediately stepped back from the window. "That's not Bowie." Before anyone could react, the front door exploded inward under the force of a shotgun blast.
The shotgun blast blew the front door off its hinges, and wood splintered across the cabin as the heavy oak door crashed into the living room floor.
"Down!" Vengeance roared. He shoved Chloe toward the stone fireplace just as two more blasts ripped through the doorway.
Buck shots peppered the log walls, and the windows exploded inward as glass rained over the room.
Doc didn't hesitate. The older man dropped behind an overturned kitchen table, his own pistol already in his hand. "Damn it!" he barked. "They found us too fast."
"No," Vengeance growled. "You were right—they followed us.
" His mind raced. Lucius hadn't been trying to capture them beneath the bridge.
He'd been tracking them—waiting and watching to see where they'd run.
And he'd led them straight to the only man besides Savage who had ever truly protected him.
Damn it. He'd just painted a target on Doc's back.
A shadow crossed the shattered doorway, and Vengeance fired at it. The man disappeared with a curse. It wasn’t a kill, but it was enough to keep him from entering. "Back room!" Vengeance shouted.
Doc shook his head. "No."
"There are supplies—" Vengeance started to explain.
"I know what's back there." Doc crawled toward an old bookcase beside the fireplace, and Chloe looked at him in confusion.
"What are you doing?" she asked. Instead of answering, Doc grabbed one side of the bookcase and shoved hard at it. It moved, but not much. It was just enough to reveal a narrow opening behind it.
Vengeance stared at the exposed hole in the wall. "What the hell..."
Doc glanced over his shoulder. "You think I survived forty years patching up bikers without building an escape route?
" A narrow stone staircase disappeared into darkness.
"There isn't time to explain." Another burst of gunfire tore through the front windows.
One round buried itself in the mantle inches above Chloe's head. She flinched but didn't scream.
"Move!" Vengeance ordered.
Chloe hesitated. "What about you?"
"I'm right behind you,” he said.
"You promise?" His heart squeezed at the thought of her wanting to make sure that he was safe too.
"I promise." She nodded before disappearing into the hidden passage. Doc followed halfway before stopping, and he looked back.
"I counted four men,” Vengeance said.
"No." Doc's expression hardened. "There are six."
Vengeance's stomach dropped. "I only saw?—"
"Two circled around the back,” Doc said. Hell, they were boxed in. He risked another glance through the shattered window and noticed a man in black tactical gear with no club colors. They were professional killers that Dante had hired. It was exactly how he liked his crews—professional and deadly.
One of the men motioned toward the rear of the cabin, and another raised a suppressed rifle. He was pretty sure that they were clearing rooms—military style. Lucius wasn't leading this team—someone else was. Someone smarter.
A voice drifted through the doorway. "Bring the girl out.
" Vengeance recognized that voice immediately—Marcus.
He was one of Dante's captains. The man trained recruits.
Hell, he was the guy who'd taught Vengeance how to clear buildings.
His stomach twisted because he knew exactly how Marcus would attack since he had taught him.
"V!" Marcus called. "You know how this ends."
Vengeance almost laughed. "I do."
"Then stop making this harder than it needs to be,” Marcus shouted.
"You first,” Vengeance said.
Marcus sighed dramatically. "You've always been your father's biggest disappointment."
"No." Vengeance smiled coldly. "I've always been his biggest mistake."
Marcus laughed. "That's probably true." The laughter stopped as quickly as it started. "Dante gave me one instruction."
"Just one?” Vengeance drawled.
"Yep,” Marcus breathed, “for some reason, he doesn’t want me to kill you."
That surprised him. "What?"
"He wants to do that himself." Vengeance's blood turned to ice because, of course, he did. Dante wouldn't trust anyone else with something so personal. A crash echoed from the rear of the cabin.
"They're inside!" Doc shouted from the hidden doorway. There wasn’t any more time to stand around talking.
Vengeance grabbed the old Colt Savage had left him.
The familiar weight settled naturally into his hand.
With his pistol in one hand and Savage's Colt in the other, he looked toward the hidden passage.
"Go!" he shouted.
"I'm not leaving you!" Chloe yelled. His chest tightened. God, she sounded exactly like Bowie.
"You don't get a vote,” Vengeance shouted.
"I'm really starting to hate that sentence!" Chloe yelled. Despite everything, he smiled. She disappeared another step down the staircase, and Doc stayed where he was.
"What are you doing?" Vengeance asked.
The older man looked almost offended. "I'm seventy-one."
"What does that have to do with anything?” Vengeance asked.
"I've earned the right to ignore stupid orders."
Vengeance groaned. "You sound like Savage."
"I'll take that as a compliment,” Doc said. Footsteps thundered across the cabin floor. Marcus's team had breached the back. Vengeance took one last look toward the hidden passage.
"Doc,” Vengeance called.
"What?"
"If they get past me—” he started.
"They won't,” Doc insisted.
"If they do," Vengeance said.
Doc understood immediately. His face became grim. "I'll die before I allow them to touch her." Vengeance believed him completely.
The first attacker rounded the hallway, and Vengeance fired twice.
The man was dead before he hit the floor.
A second shooter immediately returned fire, and wood exploded from the wall beside Vengeance's head.
There were too many angles and too little cover.
Marcus had set a perfect trap. Just as Vengeance began to reposition, another familiar voice drifted in through the broken front door.
"I've got this,” someone shouted. Every shooter inside the cabin stopped firing.
Marcus lowered his rifle, and the room fell eerily quiet.
Heavy boots crossed the porch, one measured step after another.
Vengeance felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest. A tall figure stepped through the ruined doorway, wearing a black leather coat with silver threaded through his dark hair.
His cold, gray eyes that looked almost identical to Vengeance's.
The years had added lines to his face, but they hadn't softened him—not even a little.
Dante Manzo smiled as though he'd just walked into a family reunion. His gaze settled on Vengeance first. "My son." His eyes shifted past him toward the hidden staircase where Chloe had disappeared. "There you are—" His smile widened. "Princess."