Chapter 8
Roman
The rumble of my bike dies beneath me as I cut the engine in the clubhouse lot.
Dawn is just breaking, pale light washing over empty beer bottles and cigarette butts scattered across the asphalt.
My body aches with exhaustion; my eyes burn from twenty-four hours without sleep.
The ride back to the clubhouse was long enough for doubt to seep into my bones, for all the questions for which I don’t have answers to multiply.
I swing my leg off the bike, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. The other brothers who rode with me are pulling in behind, their expressions mirroring what I’m feeling: frustration, exhaustion, the strain of another dead end. Hammer nods at me as he dismounts, his face sagging with fatigue.
“I’ll let Atlas know,” I tell him, not bothering to raise my voice above the dying engine sounds. Hammer just nods again.
We’d spent the entire night combing through an old warehouse where the Hell’s Fury used to store their product before we burned most of their operation to the ground.
There was nothing there but dust, cobwebs, and rat shit.
No sign that Demon or any of his remaining crew had been there in months. Another dead end in a string of them.
I run a hand over my face, the stubble rough against my palm. When was the last time I showered? When was the last time I slept in my own bed, with Kayla curled against me?
Kayla. Guilt twists in my gut like a knife. I was supposed to meet her at that fancy restaurant last night. Another promise broken because of club business. But this is different. This isn’t just some run or a deal gone sideways. This is Demon.
The memories surface unbidden: Naomi a year ago, her voice flat as she told us about her brief fling with the president of the Hell’s Fury MC.
She claimed it was just casual, nothing serious on her part.
But Demon had other ideas. He wanted to make her his old lady, tried to convince her to betray the Rejects, to give him inside information that would help him take over our territory.
Naomi turned him down, and Demon lost it. Threatened her life, started stalking her. We doubled security around the clubhouse, around Naomi specifically, but it didn’t stop him.
Eight months ago, they took her. She’d grown tired of feeling smothered and had snuck out on a ride, thinking she’d be safe if she stayed close to the clubhouse.
They’d grabbed her in broad daylight and killed the prospects she’d brought with her for protection.
We tore apart three counties looking for her.
I led the attack when we finally discovered the warehouse where they were holding her.
It wasn’t until we were inside that we realized they’d leaked her location in order to lure us into an ambush.
I still hear the sounds of that fight, bullets whizzing past my head, the sound of my brothers dying.
But mostly I remember Demon’s laughter, his insane laughter as he came at me with a knife.
I touch the scar on my ribs absently, feeling the raised ridge through my shirt. He’d been good with that knife, I’ll give him that. Would have gutted me if Naomi hadn’t grabbed a gun from one of the downed bikers and shot him.
The bullet caught him in the side of the head, tearing a path along his temple and cheek. He’d fallen like a stone. I’d been about to put another bullet into his head to be sure he was dead when one of his men appeared. The last thing I remembered was his large, meaty fist crashing into my jaw.
When I came to, Naomi was leaning over me. Pale and shaken, but alive and uninjured. She said that the giant of a man had thrown Demon over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. The rest of Demon’s men had scattered. I thought that was the end of it.
We all did.
We burned the Hell’s Fury clubhouse to the ground that night. The club was finished, or so we thought. But then a few months ago, we started getting intel. Whispers from contacts, sightings from other clubs. Demon was alive, and he was still after Naomi.
And last night, the bastard finally made his move.
Or at least one of his men did. Tried to grab Naomi when she left the clubhouse to get some air.
He bolted when she fought back, too quick for her to get a good look, but two of our brothers gave chase on their bikes.
They lost him, but he’d been heading toward that old Hell’s Fury property, where they’d done most of their business when they were still around.
And that’s how we ended up wasting an entire night searching an empty warehouse while that psychopath is still out there somewhere, planning God knows what.
I roll my shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension. It doesn’t help. Nothing will except finding Demon and putting him down for good this time.
I push open the clubhouse door. A few prospects are cleaning up from the night before, sweeping floors and collecting bottles. They nod respectfully as I pass.
“They in the office?” I ask, not slowing my stride.
“Yes, sir,” one of the prospects answers immediately. “Been waiting for you.”
I head down the hallway toward the back office, each step feeling like I’m wading through quicksand. The exhaustion is really hitting me now, but there’s no time to rest. Pausing outside the office door, I take a moment to steel myself. Atlas won’t be happy with my report. Naomi, even less so.
With a deep breath, I push open the door.
Atlas and Naomi look up as I enter. Atlas is slumped behind his desk, face etched with weariness, eyes bloodshot and hollow.
Naomi is perched on the edge of the desk, back rigid, every line of her body thrumming with barely contained energy.
The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.
One glance at Naomi and I can tell she already knows I don’t have good news.
“Well?” Naomi demands before I can even close the door behind me. Her fingers drum a rapid tattoo against her thigh.
“Nothing,” I say, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “Place was empty. No sign anyone’s been there in months.”
Atlas sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, the gesture seeming to age him another decade. “You’re sure?”
“We tore the place apart,” I confirm, leaning against the wall. My legs feel too heavy to keep standing, but I don’t want to sit. If I sit, I might not get back up. “Checked every inch. Nothing.”
Naomi makes a sound — part scoff, part laugh — that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Of course there wasn’t,” she says, sliding off the desk to pace the small office.
“You really think Demon would be stupid enough to go back to a property we know about? A property we’ve already raided once? ”
“We had to check,” I say, too tired to match her fire with my own. “We’re following every lead, Tech.”
“Following leads,” she repeats mockingly, her red curls bouncing as she whirls to face me. “Following breadcrumbs is more like it. Demon is out there, and when we aren’t cowering in here, we’re stumbling around in the dark like blind men.”
“Tech,” Atlas says, his voice carrying a note of warning. “Viper and the brothers have been out all night. They’re doing everything they can.”
She turns on him; her freckled face flushing with anger.
“It isn’t enough! I’m tired of being confined to this clubhouse like a prisoner.
I’m tired of waiting for that psychopath to make another move.
” She slams her hand down on the desk. “This is why I told you we need to be more aggressive. We need to hunt him down. I want to tear apart the countryside until we find him.”
Atlas pushes himself to his feet, his expression hardening. “We’ve already talked about this. We don’t have enough men to launch a full-scale manhunt. And we’ve got that deputy sniffing around more than usual—“
“Who gives a shit about some small-town deputy?” Naomi cuts him off. “Are we the Devil’s Rejects or not? Since when do we let cops dictate what we do?”
“Since we’re smart enough to pick our battles,” Atlas snaps back.
“Demon’s organization was destroyed. He can’t have more than a handful of men still with him.
He’s dangerous, but he’s also running out of places to hide!
We’ll find him, and we will deal with him.
But we’re not going to risk everything we’ve built because you’re impatient. ”
Naomi grabs her half-empty beer bottle from the desk and hurls it against the wall.
Glass shatters, amber liquid showering down on the faded carpet.
“So until then, I just sit here?” She shouts, voice rising to match the violence of her action.
“I just wait for him to try again? Maybe next time he’ll succeed, and then what? ”
Atlas looks at me, fatigue and frustration battling in his eyes. I push off from the wall, stepping between them. This dance is becoming too familiar: Atlas and Naomi at each other’s throats, me playing peacemaker. It’s wearing us all down.
“We’re going to find him,” I tell Naomi, making sure my voice is steady, confident. “We’ll find him, and this time, we’ll make sure he doesn’t get back up.”
Naomi turns her glare on me. “You will, huh?” she scoffs. “For how long? How long before you give up the chase because the plant lady complains it’s taking too much of your time?”
The jab finds its mark, piercing deeper than she probably knows. Last night’s missed date with Kayla flashes through my mind; her carefully chosen dress, the reservation she was so excited about, her disappointment when I told her I had to go.
“Nothing is more important to me than your safety,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “Nothing. I will not stop until we’ve found Demon and ended this threat for good. That‘s a promise.”
Something in my tone must convince her, because the hard edge in her expression softens slightly. She smiles, the smile quickly becoming laughter. ”Good,” she says, whirling away to perch on the edge of Atlas’s desk again.
Atlas clears his throat, breaking the moment. “You look like shit, Viper,” he says, not unkindly. “Go get some rest. We’ll regroup this afternoon, figure out our next move.”
I nod, suddenly aware of just how close to collapsing I am. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I say, turning to leave.
The main room is still quiet as I cross it, heading for the stairs that lead to the bedrooms on the second floor. I’m almost there when Naomi’s voice stops me.
“Viper, wait.”
I turn to see her following me, her earlier anger replaced by something else, something I can’t quite read. She stops at the bottom of the stairs, and something in her expression makes me uneasy.
“We could really make a great pair, you know,” she says, her voice dropping to an intimate level. “We could take the fight to Demon together. You remember our talk yesterday? We could make the Rejects into a force no one would dare mess with.”
She climbs the first step, bringing herself closer to me. I don’t move, watching her warily as she places a hand on my chest, her touch burning through my shirt.
“Naomi,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” she asks, tilting her head. There’s a challenge in her eyes, mixed with something hungrier. “I’m offering you a partnership. A real one. You and me, we understand each other. We want the same things.”
I gently remove her hand from my chest, holding it for a moment before letting go. “You‘re my sister in the club,” I tell her, choosing my words carefully. “I owe you my life. But I won’t betray Kayla. Not for you, not for anyone.”
For a split second, anger flashes across her face, before her expression shutters closed. She scoffs, turning away. “Whatever,” she mutters, walking away without another word.
I watch her go, unease settling like a stone in my gut. That wasn’t just about a partnership, and we both know it. But I’m too exhausted to untangle that particular knot right now.
My old room is exactly as I left it the last time I crashed here: sparse, functional, with a bed that’s seen better days. I pull my phone from my pocket, staring at the dark screen. I should turn it on. Should call Kayla, apologize for last night, explain what’s happening.
No, I don’t have the energy for that conversation. Not now. I’ll call her when I wake up, when I can think straight.
I toss the phone onto the dresser and strip out of the suit shirt and pants I’ve been wearing under my cut since last night. They’re wrinkled beyond salvation, smelling of sweat and exhaust fumes. I let them fall to the floor, too tired to care.
In just my boxers, I collapse onto the bed. The mattress isn’t nearly as comfortable as the one at home, but right now it feels like heaven. The world fades around me, exhaustion pulling me under into blessed nothingness.