Chapter Thirteen
Nano
Church smelled like stale smoke and old leather as I sat in my usual spot, the third chair down on the right side of the table, and kept my expression neutral.
Bored, even. Like I hadn’t spent half the night jacking off to the memory of choking a woman unconscious.
Like my knuckles weren’t still bruised from slamming her against the wall.
Like I couldn’t still feel the phantom sensation of her pulse failing under my palm.
Morpheus sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled in front of him.
To his right sat Cerberus, our VP, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.
To his left, Carver, the club’s doctor and resident voyeur, leaned back in his chair with that lazy, predatory grin he always wore when shit was about to get interesting.
Wanderer, Garrote, and the other officers filled the rest of the seats.
Only two seats remained empty. One belonging to Inferno, the club’s lieutenant who had disappeared after the Death Dogs attacked the clubhouse, taking Zephyr with them.
And Firestride’s seat. Our brother and Morpheus’ cousin, who was badly wounded and left for dead in the attack on the Silver Shadows’ clubhouse weeks ago.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” Morpheus began, his voice flat and commanding. “We’ve got a problem. Her name’s Alexandra Jones. Bitch stole seventy-five million dollars from us, and she’s currently locked in a room upstairs.”
“Why not in the freezer?” Heretic, the club’s attorney asked.
Morpheus grumbled as he looked at me. “She’s Poseidon’s little sister.”
Silence.
Vortex let out a low whistle. “Gods of Mayhem?”
“Yeah,” Morpheus confirmed, his eyes narrowing as he drummed his fingers on the table.
“Fuck,” Wanderer muttered. “That complicates things.”
“No shit.” Cerberus smirked, shaking his head. “We’ve got a treaty with those fuckers. We can’t just put a bullet in her head and dump her in a ditch.”
“Why the fuck not?” Scythe asked. “Bitch stole from us. That’s a death sentence in any other situation.”
“Because Zeus would consider it an act of war,” Morpheus said, his tone making it clear the discussion was over before it started. “And we’re not going to war with the Gods of Mayhem over one stupid bitch, no matter how much money she took. Got enough on our plate already with the Death Dogs.”
“So what are our options?” Wanderer asked.
Morpheus leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Heretic?”
The club’s attorney sighed. “We’re limited. The treaty says we can’t kill her. Can’t permanently maim her. Can’t sell her to a cartel or a trafficking ring. Basically, we can’t do anything that would leave visible, lasting damage.”
“That’s bullshit,” Garrote said.
“That’s politics,” Morpheus corrected. “Poseidon doesn’t give a fuck about his sister. He made that clear when he allowed her to run away from the clubhouse. But if we kill her, he has to respond. It’s about respect. About maintaining the balance.”
I stayed silent, my hands flat on the table in front of me.
My pulse was steady. My expression blank.
But inside, something coiled tight.
Mine. The thought had been circling my brain since last night. Since I felt her throat under my hand. Since I had come so hard that I saw stars. She was mine. And nobody was going to take her away from me.
“So what do we do with her?” Wanderer asked. “Keep her locked up? Make her work off the debt?”
“Seventy-five million dollars.” Scythe smirked, his grin widening as he rubbed his chin. “That’s a lot of work. She’d have to suck a lot of dick to pay that back.”
A few of the brothers chuckled.
I didn’t.
“She’s not club property,” Morpheus said as his eyes bored into mine, almost challenging me to say something. When I didn’t, he continued, “Right now, she’s a prisoner. A thief. And we need to decide how to handle her without starting a war.”
“What about Nano?” Carver asked, as every eye in the room turned to me.
Observant motherfucker.
I didn’t move. Didn’t react.
“What about him?” Morpheus asked, his tone neutral.
Carver’s grin turned sharp. “He’s the one who brought her in. Spent three days in a car with her. Dragged her through the clubhouse last night and damn near choked her to death in front of everyone.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air. “Seems like he’s got a personal interest.”
“Fuck off, Carver,” I sneered, my voice cold.
Carver leaned forward. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking, asshole.
You don’t usually get your hands dirty. You’re the tech guy.
The one who sits behind a computer and finds people.
But last night?” He whistled, his grin widening like he knew a secret and couldn’t wait to share it.
“Last night you looked like you wanted to tear her apart.”
“She fought me,” I simply said. “I responded.”
“You sure did,” Carver said, his eyes gleaming. “I did some digging. Called around Rapid City to some of my favorite haunts. Apparently, she’s got a thing for pain. Likes it rough.”
My jaw tightened. Just a fraction.
But enough.
Carver saw it. His grin widened. “Thought you’d find that interesting.”
“Shut up, Carver,” I growled, forcing my expression to stay neutral. Forcing my hands to stay flat on the table instead of curling into fists. He was baiting me. Testing me. Trying to see if I’d bite.
I wouldn’t. Because the moment I admitted what I felt last night, the moment I let them see the hunger that had clawed its way to the surface, they would never let it go. They would poke and prod and make it a fucking joke. Turn it into something to laugh about over beers.
And it wasn’t a joke.
It was the darkest part of me. The part I’d buried for years. The part that had woken up last night when I felt her pulse failing under my hand and realized I didn’t want to stop.
“I don’t give a fuck what she likes,” I said, my voice flat. “She’s a thief. She stole from the club. That’s all that matters.”
“Sure,” Carver said, still grinning. “Whatever you say, brother.”
The room fell silent again. I could feel them watching me. Wanderer. Garrote. Cerberus. All of them were curious. All of them wondering what the fuck Carver was talking about.
None of them would ask. But they would wonder. And that was almost worse.
“Enough,” Morpheus barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Carver, shut the fuck up. Nano, you good?”
“I’m good,” I growled.
Morpheus’ eyes locked on mine. Dark. Knowing. Unreadable.
“You sure about that?” Carver asked, his tone deceptively casual.
Morpheus growled a warning. “Carver.”
My pulse kicked up. Just a fraction as I looked at the fucker. “You got something to say, then fucking say it, fucker.”
Carver leaned back in his chair. “You know, Nano, I’ve known you a long time. You and I prospected together. And in all that time, I’ve never seen you lose control.”
I didn’t respond.
“You’re the most controlled brother in this club,” the bastard continued.
“You don’t drink too much. Don’t fuck the club girls.
Don’t start fights. You sit behind your computer, you do your job, and you keep your head down.
” He paused. “But last night? Last night you looked like a different person.”
“She needed to learn,” I pressed, my voice tight.
“She did,” Carver agreed. “And you taught her. But that’s not what I’m talking about, and you fucking know it.”
The room was silent. Everyone was watching. Waiting.
“Baiting the tiger, Carver.” Morpheus sighed.
Carver ignored him and leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I watched you last night. Watched the way you looked at her. The way you held her throat. The way you didn’t let go even when she was turning purple.
” His smile widened. “I’m talking about the way you enjoyed it. Gotta admit, I got off on it too.”
My blood ran cold.
Fuck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but the words sounded hollow even to me.
“Yes, you do,” Carver replied, his voice calm. Matter-of-fact. “You’re a sadist, Nano. You get off on pain. On control. On breaking people.” He tilted his head. “And last night, you finally let yourself feel it.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong.
Wanted to stand up and walk the fuck out.
But I couldn’t.
Because he was right.
“How long?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Since the night you almost killed a club whore. It took me, Vortex, and Scythe to pull you off her,” he said.
“You think I didn’t notice your erection?
Or heard you spend the rest of the night jacking off in your room?
My room is right next to yours, brother.
You were up all night replaying what happened, weren’t you? ”
“He’s right, Nano.” Vortex sighed. “You think we don’t see the way you watch people? The way you catalog everyone’s weaknesses? The look in your eyes when someone’s in pain?” He shook his head.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I didn’t want to talk about this. It was none of their business.
“So here’s my question, brother,” Carver added. “What are you going to do about it?”
I stared at him, my mind racing.
What am I going to do about it? I’d spent years burying this part of myself.
Years pretending I was normal. That I didn’t get hard watching people break.
That I didn’t fantasize about control and pain and submission.
But last night had changed everything. Last night, I let myself feel it.
Let myself enjoy it. And now there was no going back.
“She’s mine,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.
Morpheus groaned. “We know.”
“What?” My head snapped to his.
“Fuck.” Cerberus chuckled. “You may be one of the smartest fuckers in this room, boy, but you’re fucking stupid if ya think none of us saw or smelled her wet pussy. Bitch was gettin’ off just as fast as you.”