Chapter Thirty-One
Alex
The gathering room was still alive with noise when we hit the bottom of the stairs.
Laughter, the crack of pool balls, the wet sounds of someone getting fucked against the bar.
But Nano didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down as he dragged me past it all, past the brothers who turned to watch with predatory interest, past the club whores who paused mid-stroke to stare.
His grip on my wrist was bruising, his stride purposeful and relentless.
We were heading toward the back of the clubhouse. Toward the heavy wooden doors I had only seen once before.
Church.
My stomach dropped.
“Nano, wait!” I tried to dig my heels in, but my bare feet slid uselessly across the floor. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
He yanked me forward hard enough that I stumbled, catching myself against his back.
He didn’t even acknowledge it. Just kept moving.
The doors loomed ahead, dark wood reinforced with iron brackets, the Brotherhood insignia carved deep into the surface.
They looked like they belonged on a medieval fortress, not a motorcycle clubhouse.
Nano didn’t knock. He kicked the door open with enough force that it slammed against the interior wall. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
And then I saw them.
All of them.
The officers were already gathered around the long wooden table that dominated the center of the room.
Morpheus sat at the head, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
Cerberus was to his right, scarred face impassive.
Carver leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
Scythe, Wanderer, Garrote, Heretic, Vortex, Cobalt, and every officer in the Brotherhood was here, and they all turned to look at us. At me.
The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees.
My breath caught in my throat. The walls were lined with framed photographs of fallen brothers, patches from rival clubs they had destroyed, and weapons mounted like trophies.
The wooden floor was cold beneath my bare feet.
The single overhead light cast harsh shadows across the officers’ faces, making them look like something out of a nightmare.
This wasn’t just a meeting room. This was where they decided who lived and who died.
Nano dragged me forward, his hand still locked around my wrist. I tried to pull back, but his grip tightened until I felt bones grinding together.
“Nano.” Morpheus’ voice cut through the silence like a blade. “What the fuck is this?”
Nano stopped in front of the table and yanked me to stand beside him.
His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
“You were right, Prez,” he began, his voice flat.
Controlled. But underneath it, I heard something else as he turned to look at me. “They all were, and I have proof.”
The effect was immediate. Every single officer at the table went rigid. Cerberus’ scarred face twisted into something feral. Carver’s fingers stopped moving. Scythe’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt. Wanderer leaned forward, his eyes locked on me with sudden, terrible focus.
And Morpheus’ entire demeanor changed. The relaxed posture vanished. His shoulders tensed. His hands flattened against the table, knuckles white. And when he looked at me, his eyes were no longer sharp.
They were deadly.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I could feel every eye in the room on me.
Could feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing pressing down on my chest. The air felt too thick to breathe.
Morpheus stood slowly, his chair scraping against the concrete with a sound that made my teeth ache.
He seemed taller than I remembered, and when he moved around the table toward me, every instinct I had screamed at me to run.
But Nano’s grip kept me in place as Morpheus stopped directly in front of me.
He was close enough that I could smell leather and smoke and something darker underneath as he seethed.
Proof about what? I didn’t know what was happening. Or why everyone was looking at me like I was a threat, even Nano, when he sneered, “The Death Dogs weren’t just after the descendants. They were after FIRE. The attack was a hit.”
What? What attack? Confused, I swallowed hard, my throat too tight as I shook my head. “I-I know nothing. I just heard the name. I told Nano that. I don’t know who or what fire is.”
“Firestride,” Morpheus interrupted, his voice cutting through my stammering like a knife.
“My cousin. Our brother who’s been in the hospital for three fucking weeks because the Death Dogs attacked the Silver Shadows’ clubhouse in Diamond Creek.
Indigo, a brother from Disturbed MC, shot several times in the same attack.
Ravage, my son, and a brother in the Golden Skulls MC, and Eros, a name you should be familiar with, lying next to Indigo, shot to hell. They are FIRE.”
Oh God. Firestride, Indigo, Ravage, Eros.
F.I.R.E.
FIRE.
Oh God! They think. Nano thinks... Oh God! The room tilted slightly. My knees felt weak. “I didn’t know.” My voice came out as a whisper. “I swear, I didn’t know who Fire was. I didn’t know. Oh God, Eros.”
“Who ordered the hit?” Morpheus demanded, leaning in close enough that I could see the fury burning in his eyes.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. When I didn’t say anything, Nano spoke. “Fucker’s name is Michael. She met him at the Prancing Pussycat.”
I didn’t know where Michael was. Didn’t know if he was still in Rapid City or if he fled when I stole the money. Didn’t know if he was alive or dead. I had no way of contacting him.
“I asked you a fucking question,” Morpheus said, his voice deadly quiet now.
Behind him, the other officers had risen from their seats.
They were forming a semicircle around me, closing in like wolves surrounding prey.
Cerberus’ hand rested on the gun at his hip.
Scythe’s fingers drummed against the hilt of his knife.
And Nano... Nano was still holding my wrist, but his grip had loosened slightly.
Like he was waiting to see what I would do. Waiting to see if I would cooperate.
“Tell him,” Nano said quietly, his voice close to my ear. “Tell him everything you know about Michael.”
I looked up at Morpheus. At the cold fury in his eyes, at the promise of violence written across every line of his face. And something inside me, something stubborn and defiant and stupid, reared its ugly head. “No,” I said before I could stop myself.
Morpheus’ eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said no,” I repeated, my voice stronger this time. “I’m not telling you shit.”
The room went completely silent. Even the distant sounds from the gathering room seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart.
Nano’s grip on my wrist tightened again. “Alexandra.”
“No,” I said again, yanking my wrist against his hold. “You want to know about Michael? You want to know where he is and what he’s done? Then you can go fuck yourself, because I’m not saying another goddamn word.”
I didn’t know where the defiance came from.
Didn’t know why I was choosing now, surrounded by men who could kill me without a second thought, to dig my heels in and refuse.
Maybe it was because I had spent the last three days being broken down and rebuilt according to Nano’s design.
Maybe it was because I submitted and surrendered and gave up every piece of myself until there was nothing left.
Or maybe it was because I was so fucking tired of being controlled.
Of being told what to do and when to do it, and how to feel about it.
Of being owned.
Morpheus stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed. A cold, humorless sound that made my skin crawl. “You think you have a fucking choice here, thief?” he asked, his voice soft. Dangerous. “You think you can just refuse to answer and walk out of this room?”
“I think,” I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes, “that you still need me more than I need you. Because I’m the only one who knows what Michael looks like.
The only one who knows where he worked and who he talked to, and what connections he had.
” I paused, my heart hammering. “So if you want that information, you’re going to have to do better than dragging me down here in the middle of the night and demanding answers like I’m some fucking suspect. ”
The silence that followed was absolute. Cerberus made a sound that might have been a laugh or a growl. I couldn’t tell which. Carver’s eyebrows rose slightly, like he was impressed despite himself. Scythe’s hand tightened on his knife.
And Nano’s grip on my wrist had gone completely still.
Morpheus took a step closer until we were almost nose to nose. His breath was hot against my face. “You’ve got balls, bitch. I’ll give you that,” he said quietly. “But balls won’t keep you alive when I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Then kill me,” I snapped, my words coming out steadier than I felt. “Because I’m not talking. Not like this.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to do it. Thought he was going to pull the gun from his belt and put a bullet in my head right here in church.
But then he stepped back.
“Get her the fuck out of here,” he ordered, his voice flat. “Lock her in your room. We’ll deal with this cunt in the morning.”
Nano didn’t move. “Morpheus.”
“Now, Nano.”
The command in Morpheus’ voice left no room for argument.
Nano’s hand tightened on my wrist one more time as he pulled me backward, away from the table, away from the officers who were still watching me with expressions that ranged from fury to fascination as he dragged me toward the door, and I didn’t resist. Didn’t fight.
Because I’d made my point. I had drawn my line in the sand, and now I was going to find out exactly what that cost me.
The door slammed shut behind us, cutting off the view of the church and the officers inside. Nano didn’t say a word as he pulled me back through the gathering room, past the brothers who were still drinking and fucking like nothing had happened.
Back up the stairs. Back to his room, and when he finally released my wrist and stepped back, his expression was unreadable. “What the fuck was that?” he asked quietly.
I rubbed my wrist, feeling the bruises already forming. “That was me deciding I’m done being interrogated like a criminal.”
“You just refused a direct order from Morpheus,” Nano said, his voice dangerously calm. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
“It means,” I said, meeting his eyes, “that I’m not as broken as you thought I was.”
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then he turned and walked to the window, his hands braced against the frame, his shoulders tense.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said finally.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But at least I’ll die on my own terms.”