Chapter Eleven
Havoc stood with his hands braced on the scarred wooden table. His knuckles were white, and he’d locked his jaw so tight his teeth ached.
The glow from Gizmo’s laptop painted the room in harsh blue light. Gizmo was their resident hacker and Havoc was right to call him in for help. Roach leaned in close, tense and silent, but Havoc barely registered him. His focus was a single frozen frame on the screen. Ivy.
The camera outside Ivy’s apartment building caught her mid-step, bag slung over her shoulder, head turned slightly as if she’d sensed something was wrong. The next frames played out like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. The unfamiliar biker, how Ivy stiffened and the way she tried to step back.
Then the angle shifted, obscured by the edge of the building. When the camera caught them again, she was struggling, fighting, being forced onto the bike.
Havoc sucked in a breath that burned all the way down. His fault. The thought clawed at him, relentless and merciless. If he hadn’t pulled away that morning or walked after her. Hell, if he’d said the words he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head, then Ivy wouldn’t have been taken from him.
“She put up a fight,” Roach said.
Havoc didn’t look away from the screen. Ivy wasn’t the type to go quietly. The image of her struggling twisted something savage in his chest, equal parts pride and terror.
“Plate’s clear enough,” Gizmo muttered. “Give me a second.”
The clacking of keys filled the room, too loud, too slow. Havoc paced once, then stopped, flexing his fists at his sides like he needed something to hit.
Gizmo let out a low whistle. “Got him,” Gizmo finally said.
The screen shifted, numbers scrolling, maps popping up.
“Bike’s registered under a burner name. But he was sloppy. Used a credit card at a gas station not long after,” Gizmo said.
A pin dropped on the map.
“One mile out from Steel Jackals’ territory,” Gizmo finished. “Right near their compound.”
The room went deadly quiet.
Roach pushed himself more upright, face pale beneath the bruises.
“That’s him,” he said, pointing at the plate. “Same bike. Same bastard.”
Havoc closed his eyes for a brief second, rage roaring up so fast it made him dizzy. Hyena. He should’ve ended that score years ago instead of letting it fester. Instead of letting Ivy walk into the crossfire of unfinished business.
Hyena hadn’t just taken her to hurt Havoc. That was almost incidental, a message delivered loud enough for every MC within riding distance to hear. Devil’s Crown didn’t protect its own. The MC couldn’t even protect the women who worked inside its gates.
Hyena wanted that whisper to spread, to rot from the inside out. The bastard wanted other upstart crews to start circling like vultures, thinking the Devil’s Crown MC’s fangs had dulled.
The realization turned Havoc’s stomach. Ivy wasn’t part of the MC. She was just someone King hired, but still Hyena had reached for her because Havoc had made her visible.
The woman he’d been too much of a coward to claim. That truth burned worse than any insult Hyena could throw. If Havoc had kept his distance. If he’d stayed the closed-off bastard everyone expected him to be, Ivy would’ve been background noise, not leverage.
Instead, she was paying for the fracture lines in him, for the way Libby’s ghost still haunted his choices, for every time he’d chosen silence over honesty. Hyena hadn’t just kidnapped Ivy.
He’d grabbed Havoc’s guilt by the throat and squeezed.
“I’m going to King,” Havoc said, voice low and iron-hard.
No one argued.
King listened without interruption, his expression darkening with every detail. When Havoc finished, King nodded once.
“Take a crew. Keep it clean if you can. Bring her home,” he said.
Havoc swallowed. “I will.”
Outside, engines rumbled to life, the familiar sound usually a comfort. Tonight it felt like a war drum. Havoc swung onto his Harley, gripping the bars tight, knuckles already aching.
As they rode, the wind tore at him, but it couldn’t drown out the thoughts crashing through his head.
Ivy’s laugh. The way she furrowed her brow when she concentrated on a mural. The soft weight of her against him the night he’d finally let himself forget, just for a few hours, that his heart had ever been broken.
He hadn’t even told her how he felt. Hell, he hadn’t fully admitted it to himself until now, with her gone and the fear sitting heavy and cold in his gut.
He was in love with her.
The realization hit him with brutal clarity. Not some passing want or comfort. Love. The kind that scared him because it had the power to wreck him all over again, and he’d pushed her away.
Guilt gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. If she was hurt or if Hyena had laid a hand on her... Havoc didn’t know if he could live with that.
The Steel Jackals compound loomed ahead, lights glowing against the dark like a dare. Havoc slowed, raising a fist. The crew pulled in behind him, engines cutting one by one.
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
Havoc pulled off his helmet, breathing deep. This wasn’t just about club business anymore. This was personal. Ivy was his. She was under his protection, whether he’d said the words or not.
He checked his gun, then his knife. He was assured by the familiar and steadying weight.
“I want eyes everywhere,” he murmured. “We get her fast. No mistakes.”
As they moved out, Havoc’s heart pounded with a fierce, aching mix of fear and resolve. He would tear this place apart brick by brick if he had to.
He would bring Ivy back. If she never forgave him, if she walked away the second she was safe, he’d accept it. He deserved that much. But Hyena? Hyena was going to learn exactly what it meant to take something from Havoc and live to regret it.
****
The room had no windows. That was the first thing Ivy noticed.
No windows meant no light except the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
No windows meant no sense of time. Minutes stretched into something elastic and cruel, snapping back only to stretch again.
No windows meant no way to see help coming.
She sat on a metal chair bolted to the floor, her wrists bound behind her back with rough zip ties that bit into her skin whenever she shifted. Her ankles were tied too, tethering her to the chair legs.
The air smelled like oil, dust, and old sweat. Somewhere in the walls, pipes ticked and knocked, a hollow, mechanical heartbeat.
Her throat burned. Ivy swallowed, the motion painful. She had screamed earlier. She remembered that much. The sound had clawed its way raw out of her chest, shouting until her lungs ached and her head spun.
She’d called for help. She’d called Havoc’s name once, shame and desperation tangling tight in her ribs when it slipped out. No one had come. Now she conserved her breath, listening.
Outside the room, life went on. That was the worst part. She could hear it through the walls. Loud voices, laughter, heavy bass music. Bottles clinked, someone whooped and engines revved and died again.
An MC compound. The realization had hit her earlier when they’d dragged her inside. The open yard. The bikes lined up like steel beasts at rest. Men in cuts and patches, some of them turning to look as she was marched past, curiosity flickering and then fading into disinterest.
She’d stumbled, nearly gone down when the biker gripping her arm shoved her forward harder. Ivy remembered the smell of gasoline, leather, and sweat.
You should have fought harder. The thought came unbidden, cruel and relentless. She replayed the moment outside her apartment building over and over, searching for the place where she’d gone wrong.
She had hesitated, heck, she even tried to be polite. Ivy had also foolishly believed, even for half a second, that Havoc had sent someone for her.
So stupid. Regret gnawed at her, but she forced herself not to drown in it. Regret wouldn’t cut the ties or open the door. She tested the zip ties again, flexing her wrists, twisting until the plastic bit deep enough to make her hiss. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but the ties held.
Think, Ivy. She shifted in the chair, testing the weight, rocking it slightly.
It didn’t budge. It was bolted, of course it was.
She let her head fall back for a second, staring up at the flickering bulb, blinking hard as tears threatened.
She refused to cry. Crying felt like giving something up she couldn’t afford to lose.
Time dragged. Her mouth felt like cotton. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Every swallow scraped. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying calm, on staying present.
Then footsteps approached. Not the distant thud of boots outside. These were closer. They stopped outside the door. Ivy’s pulse leaped, hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. She held her breath. The lock turned.
The door creaked open slowly, the sound stretching out her nerves until they sang. Light spilled in from the hallway, brighter than the bulb overhead, slicing across the concrete floor.
A man stepped into the doorway.
It took her a second to place him, then her mind slammed the memory into place. The biker from the art store. Her stomach dropped.
“Hyena,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
He curved his mouth upwards, grin spreading too wide, too pleased. It didn’t reach his eyes. Those stayed dark and sharp, cutting over her like blades.
“Good,” he said, voice smooth and mocking. “I’m glad you know who I am.”
Fear slid cold down her spine, but Ivy forced her shoulders back, forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice hoarse but steady. “I have nothing to do with Devil’s Crown. You have no right to keep me.”
Hyena laughed, the sound menacing and ugly.
“You don’t get to make demands, sweetheart. Not tied to a chair,” Hyena pointed out.
Her hands clenched behind her back. “Then why?” she demanded. “Why take me?”
His eyes gleamed. “Because you’re Havoc’s woman,” he simply said.
Her breath hitched despite herself. “I’m not,” she shot back. “I was just... I was nothing to Havoc. A mistake. One night.”
Hyena shrugged, a careless roll of his shoulders. “You keep telling yourself that if it helps. Men like Havoc don’t look twice at women who don’t matter,” he said.
Anger flared hot enough to cut through the fear.
“You’re wrong,” she snapped. “Let me go. Now.”
Hyena stepped fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. The sound made her flinch. He circled her slowly, boots scraping softly against the concrete.
“I’m going to send him a message,” he said casually. “Tell him to come alone if he wants to see you again.”
Her heart stuttered.
“Don’t,” she said, the word tearing out of her. “Please.”
He stopped in front of her, crouched until he was eye level. His grin sharpened.
“While we wait,” he murmured, gaze dragging over her in a way that made her skin crawl, “I might entertain myself. See what it is about you that caught his attention.”
Revulsion and terror tangled in her chest. She jerked back as far as the restraints allowed, breath coming fast and shallow. “Touch me and I swear...” Ivy began.
Right then, the compound exploded. Shouts ripped through the air outside. Gunfire cracked sharp and deafening, the sound close enough to make her flinch violently. Hyena swore, spinning toward the door.
“What the hell?”
He yanked it open and bolted out, boots pounding away. In his hurry, he didn’t lock it. Ivy stared at the open doorway for half a heartbeat. Then adrenaline surged.
Now. She lunged forward as far as she could, rocking the chair hard. It tipped, metal screeching against concrete, and she went down with it, shoulder slamming painfully into the floor. Pain burst bright and hot, but she bit back a scream.
She twisted, scrambling awkwardly, dragging the chair with her as she worked her wrists against the edge of the metal seat. The zip tie cut deeper, skin burning, but then it loosened. She gasped, wrenching one hand free, then the other.
Gunfire thundered closer, men shouted. Someone screamed.
Ivy hauled herself upright, heart pounding, and staggered into the hallway, half-running, half-stumbling. Chaos erupted around her. Bikes revved outside, men scattered. The air smelled like gunpowder and exhaust.
A Steel Jackals biker caught sight of her. His eyes widened. He raised a knife. She froze. The shot came from behind him. He dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Behind him stood Havoc. Relief slammed into her so hard it made her knees weak. His gun was raised, his expression lethal, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing he could see.
“Ivy,” he breathed.
She took a step toward him, and then felt cold steel press against the back of her head.
“Drop your gun,” Hyena snarled from behind her. “Or I’ll blow her brains out.”