Chapter Eighteen
Alex
They dragged him away.
I watched it happen, watched as Scythe and Wanderer hauled Nano toward the door, his boots scraping against the concrete, his body fighting them with every step even though he had to know it was pointless.
My mind struggled to process it. One second, he had been standing over me, his presence suffocating, his eyes promising violence. The next, he lunged at that girl, the one who had been next to him, and wrapped his hand around her throat.
Not me. Her.
And the brothers had pulled him off. Restrained him. Dragged him away like he was the threat, like he was the one who needed to be controlled.
Why? The question burned through my confusion, sharp and insistent.
He had been given permission. Morpheus had handed me over like property, like something to be used and discarded. She’s all yours, brother. So why the fuck had he attacked someone else?
Why had he—“You.”
The word cut through my spiraling thoughts like a blade as I looked up.
Morpheus was staring at me, and the look in his eyes made every nerve in my body scream, run.
I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. I scrambled backward, my boots slipping on the concrete as he stormed toward me, his face twisted with fury, his hand already reaching for me.
Shit. Shit, move—but I wasn’t fast enough as his hand closed around my throat and lifted me off the ground with terrifying ease. My back slammed into the wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, my feet dangling uselessly as his grip tightened.
I clawed at his wrist, my nails digging into his skin, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. And then I felt it.
The cold metal between my legs.
I looked down, my vision blurring at the edges, and saw the barrel of his gun pressed against my jeans, right where my thighs met.
Oh fuck.
“Give me a fucking reason not to kill you, bitch.” His voice was low.
Deadly. The kind of voice that told me he wasn’t bluffing.
His hand around my throat was tight, not choking me, not yet, but constricting enough that every breath was a struggle.
My pulse hammered against his palm, frantic and desperate, and I could feel the heat of his rage radiating off him in waves.
I tried to understand. Tried to piece together why he was so furious, why he had turned on me instead of dealing with Nano, why his hand was shaking slightly where it gripped my throat.
But my brain was too scrambled, my thoughts fragmenting under the pressure of his grip and the cold metal pressed between my legs.
Say something. Do something. Don’t just hang here like a fucking victim.
The words came before I could stop them.
Before I could think about whether they were smart or suicidal.
I smiled. It hurt. My face felt tight, my lips trembling, but I forced the expression anyway, meeting his deadly glare with something that felt like defiance.
“Because I have something you want, asshole.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Morpheus just stared at me, his eyes narrowing, his grip on my throat tightening fractionally, and then he released me.
I dropped to the ground, my knees buckling, my hands flying to my throat as I dragged in a ragged breath. But I didn’t have time to recover.
Morpheus raised his gun, pointed it at the wall beside my head, and fired.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three shots in rapid succession, so close I could feel the heat of the muzzle flash, could smell the acrid burn of gunpowder.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. I just stood there, my back pressed against the wall, my breath coming fast and shallow, and watched the president of the Brotherhood of Bastards come undone.
His hand was shaking. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
His eyes were wild, unfocused, like he was barely holding himself together.
What the fuck is happening?
“Carver,” Morpheus said, his voice rough. “Get her into church. Now.”
Carver moved toward me, his expression unreadable.
I didn’t wait for him to grab me. I didn’t wait to be dragged or manhandled or treated like property. Instead, I pushed off the wall and walked.
Straight toward the offices. Straight toward church. My legs were shaking, my throat aching where Morpheus’ hand had been, but I kept moving, kept my chin up, kept my expression blank.
You will not cower. You will not break. Behind me, I heard Carver’s footsteps.
Heard the other brothers following, but I didn’t look back.
I continued forward, my steps heavy on the concrete.
The hallway was dimmer than the main room, the air thick with smoke and the smell of leather and motor oil.
I walked past where a few hang-arounds were watching with wide eyes, past the pool table where someone had abandoned a game mid-shot, and then I was standing in front of the church door.
I didn’t hesitate. I pushed it open and walked inside.
The room was exactly what I expected. A long table dominated the center, chairs arranged around it, the walls lined with plaques and photos and the kind of memorabilia that came with decades of brotherhood and violence.
I walked to the table and sat down. Not at the end. Not in some submissive position where I would be easy to ignore. I sat in the middle, on the side facing the door, and folded my hands on the table in front of me.
You want to talk? Let’s fucking talk.
The officers filed in one by one, their expressions ranging from fury to confusion to something that looked almost like respect.
Cerberus. Garrote. Cobalt. Carver. Heretic. Vortex and then finally, Morpheus. He took his seat at the head of the table, his movements deliberate and controlled, and slammed his gun down on the wood with a sound that echoed through the room.
Then he looked at me and the room exploded.
“Fucking bitch thinks she can just—”
“Seventy-five million dollars and she’s sitting there like—”
“Should have put a bullet in her head the second—”
“Nano’s losing his goddamn mind and it’s because of her—”
“Fix him before we have to put him down—”
The voices overlapped, loud and angry, all of them talking at once, all of them glaring at me like I was the source of every problem the Brotherhood had ever faced.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t defend myself. I just sat there, my hands folded on the table, my expression calm, and let them rage. Because underneath the chaos, underneath the fury and the accusations, I could hear what they weren’t saying.
They’re scared. Scared of what I had done. Scared of what Nano was becoming. Scared that the carefully constructed hierarchy of their club was fracturing under the weight of one stolen fortune and one broken brother.
And fear made men dangerous. But it also made them predictable.
“Enough.”
Morpheus’ voice cut through the noise like a blade, and the room fell silent.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable.
“Bitch, you stole seventy-five million dollars from this club,” he said, his voice low and deadly.
“Money that we earned. Money that belonged to us. And now you sit in my church like you have a right to be here.”
I didn’t look away. I didn’t flinch.
“First off, my name is Alexandra, Alex or Ms. Bitch. And second, I’m sitting in your church because I was kidnapped and dragged here against my will,” I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart was hammering in my chest. “So excuse me if I don’t play by your rules.
If you wanted me dead, even I know you would have killed me already. ”
Cerberus slammed his hand on the table. “You don’t get to talk to him like that, bitch.”
“Then shoot me,” I challenged, turning my gaze to him. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger. See what happens to your seventy-five million when I’m dead.”
The room went silent again because they knew I was right. They needed me alive. They needed me to tell them where the money was, how to access it, how to get it back, and as long as I had that leverage, I had power.
“Where the fuck is my money?” Morpheus asked.
“Safe,” I sighed.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Morpheus’ jaw clenched. “You think you’re in any position to negotiate?”
“I think I’m in the only position that matters,” I snarked. “You want your money back? You need me alive and cooperative. Which means you need to stop threatening to kill me every five seconds and start treating me like someone you want to work with.”
“Work with?” Garrote laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. “You’re a fucking thief. You don’t get to dictate terms.”
“I’m the thief who has your money.” I smirked. “Which makes me the only person in this room who matters right now.”
Morpheus leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got balls, bitch. I’ll give you that.”
I chuckled. “Haven’t you figured it out? I’m the person who stole seventy-five million dollars from the Brotherhood of Bastards. That makes me the person with the biggest balls in this room.”
“Balls don’t mean shit when you’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
“Then why am I still breathing?” My question hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Even I knew they couldn’t kill me. Not yet. Not until they had what they wanted, and I was going to use that for everything it was worth.
“What about Nano?” Carver grumbled, his voice cutting through the tension.
The room shifted. I felt it. The way the energy changed, the way the officers exchanged glances, the way Morpheus’ expression darkened. “What about him?” Morpheus asked.
“He’s fucking losing it, Prez,” Carver said bluntly. “You saw what just happened. He went after the club whore for no fucking reason. He’s unstable.”
“He’s always been unstable,” Cerberus stated, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head. “That’s why we keep him behind his computers. His happy place.”
“This is different,” Carver insisted. “This isn’t controlled violence. This is... something else.”
“It’s her,” Garrote growled, jerking his chin toward me. “She’s fucking with his head.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t defend myself because they weren’t wrong.
I was fucking with Nano’s head. Or maybe he was fucking with mine. Or maybe we were both so broken that we were destroying each other without even trying.
“We need to fix him,” Morpheus said, his voice flat. “Before he becomes a liability.”
“And if we can’t fix him?” Vortex asked.
The silence that followed was answer enough.
They would kill him. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
If Nano couldn’t be controlled, if he couldn’t be brought back in line, they would put a bullet in his head.
And part of me, the part that was still sane, still rational, knew that would be the smart thing to do.
But another part of me, the part that was just as broken as he was, recoiled at the thought.
Why do you care? I didn’t know. I didn’t understand why the idea of Nano dying made something twist painfully in my chest. He was a predator.
A sadist. A man who’d choked me until I came and then walked away like I was nothing.
I should want him dead. I should be relieved at the thought of him being removed from the equation. But I wasn’t.
“So what’s the plan?” Cobalt asked.
Morpheus looked at me, his expression cold and calculating. “Sink or swim time, bitch,” he said. “Let’s see how well your balls keep you afloat when you’re drowning without air.”