Chapter 20 - ETHAN
I’m on my way to meet Marcus and I sit back and take advantage of the peace in the back of my car.
David drives us down the road to the Blackrose Saints compound, which is shaped like a scar cut into the edge of the city.
Concrete gives way to dirt. Light becomes hazy and the sound around us changes.
A darkness hovers over the building like a protective shield, hiding us from witnesses, locking in the demons and screams that this building represents.
It’s intoxicating. I prefer places like this as they understand hierarchy.
The gates to the club open before we stop the car. Of course they do, Marcus must be watching.
The clubhouse squats at the center of the compound like something that grew there instead of being built. It’s all metal, rust, black glass, along with the smell of oil, nicotine and old violence baked into its walls. Motorcycles line the yard in loose formation, beasts at rest.
Marcus waits on the steps and lights a cigarette as I step out of the car.
“Jesus,” he says. “Didn’t think you still remembered how to come somewhere that isn’t wrapped in gold.”
“I remember everything, you know I prefer the crudeness.”
He grins. “That’s what I like about you. Come inside.”
The clubhouse is dim, thick with smoke and the low murmur of men who don’t bother pretending they’re harmless. Marcus leads me past them without slowing. No one stops us. They don’t need to and they know who I am.
His office is upstairs, private and hidden away.
Against the far wall is his bullet-scarred desk and ridiculously opulent chair that looks like kings once owned.
There are old weapons mounted like trophies on the walls.
This is a place where secrets sit comfortably.
He gestures to a chair, but I don’t take it.
“You never sit.”
“Getting too comfortable wastes time.”
“Yet here you are wasting my time,” he says as he raises his hands. “I’m just kidding.”
He pours himself a drink, and offers me one, which I decline.
“So. You haven’t come here for nostalgia,” he says before taking a swallow of his drink.
“No.”
“You don’t come to chat as a friend?”
“Don’t be soft.”
He laughs loudly, knowing me too well but still enjoying trying to tease me. It’s one of his worst traits.
“That means this is about something you want buried or something you want to steal? A building? Art? Land?”
I allow a thin smile before responding.
“A person,” I say and his eyebrows lift.
“Ah, now I understand. Is this about that couple I looked into for you?” he says as he leans back in his chair and waits for me to speak.
“Yes. I need to complete ownership. The wife is a problem.”
“That bad, huh? You do know you can’t own people, right?”
I ignore him and walk to the window and look down at the yard, watching the men interacting. Some working on their bikes, others chatting. An aura of violence simmering under everything around them.
“I need information,” I say.
“About the wife?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of information?”
“Everything. Where she goes when she isn’t at work. Who she talks to. Who she trusts. What she wants. What she hides. I want her followed and I need every last piece of detail about her.”
Marcus whistles softly. “That’s thorough, you really got it bad for the guy, huh?”
“She’s in my way.”
“Why does she bother you so much?”
“She contaminates him. I need her gone,” I say as my jaw clenches. Just talking about her causes my body to physically protest. Marcus tilts his head, his face lights up with a smugness.
“I can’t believe the day has arrived that you’ve found your person.”
“I need to know he’s fully mine,” I say ignoring his comment. He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slowly like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
“You really are gone in the head.”
“I’m impatient.”
“You’re obsessed.”
I turn slowly to face him, eager to leave.
“We are way beyond that point. Obsessed doesn’t cover it,” I say. Marcus studies me for a long moment.
“You want her gone.”
“Yes.”
“Gone how?”
I meet his gaze.
“First choice is for her to be removed to a place far, far away. Second choice is that she turns to dirt in the ground.” He whistles low at my response.
“So you’re not asking me to —”
“No. If needed I can do that myself.”
“Shame. It would’ve been the simpler choice.”
“Yes, but this is too complicated. I don’t need the hassle of police reports and interviews. Leo is very emotional. I know he won’t let it go if she just disappears.”
“You’re really serious about this guy.”
“His name is Leo,” I say, annoyed as Marcus leans forward, elbows on the desk.
“You planning to keep him?”
“Yes.”
“Like… keep keep?”
“Is there any other kind?”
A real laugh this time leaves him to the point tears leak from his eyes. I’m glad he finds this so fucking amusing.
“You always were terrifying.”
“I’ll take the compliment.”
“It kind of is. You, of all people, playing house with a married man?”
“I’m not playing and please don’t use the word ‘married’,” I say, and I’m starting to get pisssed off. Marcus just wipes his mouth with his thumb, not affected by my tone.
“Does he know what you’re planning?”
“He resists a little to his fate, but that will change soon enough.”
“Of course he resists.” Marcus shakes his head slowly. “You’re building him a prison.”
“I’m building him stability.”
“With gold bars.”
“Exactly, who would say no to that?” I say, and it’s true, it will be the perfect solution for Leo. Marcus exhales smoke before speaking.
“And his wife? What has she thought about this whole thing?”
I stiffen at the term wife. It scrapes my brain so much I can’t even say the word.
“She believes she owns him,” I say. Marcus snorts.
“That’s marriage for you.”
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be with him and uses him.”
“She sounds like she is hungry for the high life.”
“She’s loud.”
Marcus grins. “You really hate her.”
“I don’t possess any emotions in order to feel anything for her, other than she is a mosquito that needs swatting.”
“You’re asking me to dig into her life so we can find weakness to give you leverage to go against her, right?” Marcus says slowly.
“Yes. I want him to see her for what she really is.”
Marcus studies me like he’s deciding whether I’m fascinating or terminal.
“God,” he murmurs. “You’re beautiful when you’re this honest. If only you had been interested in little old me, we would’ve been a true power couple.”
“Absoluely not. Our alphas would clash and you’re not sexy enough for me.”
“Hey, I’m sexy.”
“Can we do this or not?”
“Okay, no need to get angry. I’ll look into it for you.”
“Good, thanks.”
“I like watching rich men ruin themselves over love,” he says as he stubs out his cigarette.
“This is not love.”
He laughs, not convinced, but that’s okay. “Sure.”
I turn back to the window. Below me, a man starts a motorcycle. The sound vibrates through the bones of the building and I gulp it down, dying to ride one of those things again.
“You know,” Marcus says, “most people just cheat.”
“I don’t share.”
“Most people also don’t plan to rewrite someone’s entire life.”
“I’m improving his.”
Marcus’s tone softens, just slightly. “You could let him go.”
I look at him with enough venom to hopefully kill him on the spot with such a suggestion.
“No.”
“Just teasing. I didn’t think you would,” he says as he stands, and walks toward me.
“I’m keen to watch this play out. I might even learn something. So, you really think you can just… take him?”
“Yes.”
“And he won’t break?”
“Everyone breaks, that’s the beauty,” I say and Marcus smiles faintly at me with an understanding and claps a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re a monster, but I got you, Ethan. I’ll leave no stone unturned. You’ll get your man.”
“Good.”
“Be honest,” he says. “Is this about wanting him… or owning him?”
I consider his question, but the answer is simple.
“Theres no difference in my mind. I can’t want him without needing to own him.”
He laughs again, quieter.
“You’re going to tear the world apart over a sculptor with sad eyes.”
“I will destroy anyone in my way. There will be no other outcome.”
Marcus opens the door for me, and as I walk past him, he stops me.
“You know one day he might hate you,” he says softly, and I stop and turn my head slightly.
“Good.” Marcus frowns.
“Hatred is attention,” I say. “And attention is addictive. By that point he will only want to live off my attention.”
“Huh. Interesting point. I’ll be in touch, Ethan.”
I walk away and leave the clubhouse without looking back.
The early evening air is sharp and crisp. When I get into the car, Sarah’s face drifts into my mind. She is smiling too wide, touching what is not hers, speaking his name like she deserves the sound of it.
My hands tighten into a fist on my lap, imagining how it would feel to snap her neck. Soon, she will be irrelevant.
And Leo….Leo will finally be quiet enough to hear himself belong to me. It’s time to ramp up this game and remind Leo of how much he enjoyed our night together. So I text him to meet me at my penthouse.