Chapter Nine
Lena gripped the steering wheel tighter as she turned into the hospital parking lot, her stomach knotted the way it always did on these visits.
Her old car rattled with every bump, the dashboard light blinking an ominous red she couldn’t afford to get checked out. None of that mattered right now. Her mother did.
The hospital loomed ahead, glass windows catching the gray afternoon light. Lena found a spot near the back of the lot, cut the engine, and sat there for a moment, breathing in and out. She needed to be calm before she went inside. Her mother didn’t need to see her falling apart.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grabbed her worn leather bag, and stepped out of the car. The autumn air was brisk, carrying the faint smell of exhaust and rain.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, her mind already shifting to what she’d say to her mom. Updates, reassurances and lies that things were steady when they weren’t.
Her boots clicked softly on the pavement as she started toward the hospital entrance. That was when she heard it. A scuff of footsteps behind her. Too close and deliberate.
Lena froze, heart slamming against her ribs. She glanced over her shoulder. The lot looked nearly empty, just a handful of cars scattered across the rows. But she wasn’t alone.
A tall figure stepped out from between two parked cars. His cut caught her eye immediately, the leather vest marked with a coiled serpent. Another shadow emerged to her left, blocking her path forward.
Her throat went dry. Iron Serpents.
She spun, intending to bolt back toward her car, but another man was already there, leaning casually against the hood of a truck as if he’d been waiting for her. His grin spread wide, teeth flashing under the pale light.
“Well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the truck. “Look what we got here.”
The voice sent a jolt of recognition through her. She knew that face, that sneer. He was the one from The Pit Stop. The one who’d tried to corner her before King had stepped in.
“Riker,” she whispered, the name tasting like ash.
He tilted his head mockingly. “So you do remember me. I’m flattered,” Riker said with a grin.
Lena’s pulse roared in her ears. She forced her chin up, masking the fear clawing at her throat. “If you think you can pull something again in a hospital parking lot, you’re dumber than I thought,” she said.
Riker chuckled, the sound low and cruel. “Hospital or not, sweetheart, no one’s gonna see a damn thing out here.” He gestured, and the two men flanking her closed in.
Lena took a step back, then another, but her path was sealed tight. Her fingers dug into the strap of her bag like it could be a weapon.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, trying to summon the same fire she’d used at The Pit Stop. “You don’t scare me.”
But her voice wavered on the last word, betraying her.
Riker’s grin widened. “That’s what I like about you. Got some spark. Shame King got his claws in first. Otherwise, maybe I’d show you how a real man treats a woman.”
Her stomach twisted. Disgust battled with panic, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.
“King’s not here to save you this time,” Riker said, stepping closer. His shadow stretched long across the cracked pavement. “And I’ve been waiting for this.”
The two Serpents grabbed her arms before she could react, rough hands clamping down on her biceps like iron bands. She thrashed, kicked, but her boots barely grazed one man’s shin before they hauled her off balance. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, falling to the ground with a dull thud.
“Let go of me!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the empty lot.
No answer. No one came. The hospital doors were too far, and the few cars parked nearby showed no movement inside.
Riker leaned in close, his breath reeking of cigarettes and whiskey. “Scream all you want. No one’s listening.”
Her blood ran cold.
The men dragged her toward a black van idling at the far end of the lot. Its engine purred, exhaust curling into the chilly air. Lena kicked harder, nails clawing at the grip on her arms, but their hold was unyielding.
Terror surged, sharp and suffocating, but beneath it was a thread of fury. She’d lived too long fighting for scraps, too long refusing to be a victim. She wasn’t about to let them see her break.
“You’re pathetic,” she spat at Riker, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “Hiding behind your little gang, ambushing women in parking lots. King was right. You’re nothing but cowards.”
For a heartbeat, Riker’s smile faltered, anger flashing in his eyes. Then his fist lashed out, striking her across the face. Pain exploded in her cheek, white-hot and blinding.
The men holding her laughed, cruel and sharp.
Lena tasted blood on her tongue, coppery and thick. Her head rang, but she lifted her gaze anyway, glaring at Riker through the haze.
“That all you’ve got?” she croaked.
His jaw tightened. He stepped closer, until his face was inches from hers. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”
The van door slid open with a metallic groan. Darkness yawned inside, the smell of oil and leather spilling out. The men shoved her forward, ignoring her struggles. Her knees banged against the step, her palms scraping as she tried to catch herself.
“Get her in,” Riker ordered.
Hands shoved her from behind, and she stumbled inside, landing hard on the metal floor. The door slammed shut, sealing her in with shadows.
Her heart hammered so loud it drowned out everything else. The van lurched as the driver hit the gas, tires squealing against pavement.
Lena scrambled to the side, pressing her back against the cold wall. Her cheek throbbed where Riker’s fist had landed, swelling with each heartbeat. Fear pressed in, suffocating, but her mind spun past it.
If she panicked now, she was done.
She thought of her mother upstairs, waiting for her visit. She thought of The Pit Stop, reduced to ashes. She thought of King. His scarred face, the rough edge of his voice, the way he’d kissed her like she mattered.
No one knew she was here. No one would be looking. Except maybe him.
A part of her she hated clung to that hope, fragile as glass. If anyone could track the Serpents, it was King. If anyone would come for her, it would be him. But until then, she was on her own.
Lena drew in a shaky breath, pressing her fists against her knees to stop them from trembling. She didn’t know where they were taking her or what they planned to do, but one thing was certain.
She’d fight. She’d fight until she couldn’t anymore, and she prayed King would find her before it was too late.
****
King angrily stormed out of his office, his phone still clutched in one hand. The call replayed in his head like a taunt, Viper’s grim voice, two words that made his blood ice over. She’s gone.
Gone. Lena. His heart hadn’t pounded like this in years, not even in the middle of shootouts or knife fights. Not even when the Devil’s Crown had been backed into corners no sane man thought they’d claw their way out of.
He could live with his own skin in the fire. But her? No. King shoved through the clubhouse door and into the gravel lot, the cool evening air scraping against his lungs. Rage stood there, pale, shoulders stiff, a cigarette crushed under his boot.
On the ground between them lay Lena’s bag.
King stopped dead, his gaze locking on the worn leather, the strap frayed where it had torn loose. His chest constricted so tight he could barely breathe. That bag had been on her shoulder every damn time he’d seen her. Now it lay here like a discarded piece of her.
“What the fuck happened?” King’s voice was low, lethal.
Rage’s jaw worked, but the words came slow. “She arrived at the parking lot, like always. I thought it was clear. I stepped out for a smoke, just five minutes—”
“Five minutes?” King shot his hand out before he thought better of it, fist colliding with Rage’s jaw. The younger man staggered back, spitting blood, but didn’t raise a hand in defense.
“You had one goddamn job,” King snarled, advancing a step. His vision blurred red at the edges, muscles coiled with the need to hit him again, to hit something until the world stopped spinning.
Rage wiped his mouth, shame written all over his face. “I fucked up, Prez. I know I did,” Rage whispered.
King’s knuckles ached from the impact, but the fury boiling inside him didn’t dim. He stared at the bag on the gravel, the strap stained with a streak of dirt, and felt something crack deep inside his chest.
This was his fault. He’d let her walk away. He’d convinced himself she’d be safer out of his world, out from under the Devil’s Crown’s shadow. He’d let her think she was a weakness to him.
And now the Serpents had her. The thought made his gut twist, violent and ugly. King could picture Riker’s smirk, those filthy hands reaching for her, the way Lena would try to fight, because of course she would fight. The Serpents would make her pay for it.
“Prez,” Viper’s voice cut through the storm, steady as always. He came up beside King, his eyes hard but calm, the perfect foil to King’s brewing hurricane. “We’ll get her back.”
King dragged a hand down his face, forcing his breathing to steady. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now. “Do we know where they took her?”
“Not yet,” Viper admitted. “But we’ve got eyes on their clubhouse. Serpents’ve been strutting louder than usual lately, bragging about making moves. If they’ve got her, odds are that’s where she is. They’ll want to show off.”
King’s jaw clenched. Of course they would. Parading her in front of their brothers, treating her like leverage, a trophy. Anger swelled inside him again, nearly choking him.
Rage stepped forward, still holding his split lip. “Prez, let me—”
“Shut your mouth,” King snapped. The younger man froze. For a moment, silence stretched, thick with tension. Then King exhaled, the fury draining just enough for his voice to lower.
“You’re coming. You fucked up, so you’ll be there to fix it. You’ll fight harder than anyone else, or I’ll bury you myself,” King said.
Rage nodded quickly, relief and fear mixing on his face.
King crouched and picked up Lena’s bag, brushing the dirt from it with rough fingers. The leather was warm from the sun, faintly carrying her scent—vanilla, coffee, something distinctively her.
His throat tightened as he straightened, the weight of the bag heavy in his hand. Lena wasn’t just some woman who’d crossed his path. She wasn’t a weakness. She was the only damn thing that had made him feel alive in years.
If the Serpents thought they could take her from him, they’d just signed their own death warrants.
He turned to his men, voice carrying like steel across the lot. “Gear up. We ride in twenty. Vests, ammo, everything. We’re not going in quiet.”
Viper gave a short nod, already pulling his phone to rally the others. “You got it, Prez.”
King stalked back toward the garage, Lena’s bag clutched tight. Each step felt heavier, dragging him down into the dark place he’d lived too long. But beneath the fury was something sharper, clearer.
This wasn’t about territory. This wasn’t about MC pride. This was about Lena.
He’d let her think she didn’t matter to him. He’d let her walk away because he’d been too much of a coward to admit what she was to him. And now she was gone, but not for long.
King shoved open the garage door, the familiar scent of motor oil and steel filling his nose. His men were already moving fast, pulling weapons from the racks, strapping on vests.
Rage tightened his gloves with grim determination. Viper loaded a shotgun, his face unreadable but his eyes burning.
King tossed Lena’s bag onto his workbench, its presence there a stark reminder of what was at stake. He stared at it for a long moment, then looked back at his men.
“They took what’s mine,” King said, the words rough, final. “And we’re taking her back. I don’t care how many bodies it takes. I don’t care if we burn their clubhouse to the ground. No one touches her and breathes.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, hard and deadly.
King’s eyes found Viper’s. “You said eyes are on their clubhouse?”
“Yeah,” Viper confirmed. “Prospects have been watching since dawn. Serpents’ve been pulling in heavy all day. They’re posturing. Means they’ve got something they want to show off. My bet’s she’s inside.”
King’s gut twisted again, but this time with certainty. Lena was there. He could feel it like a live wire in his veins.
“All right,” he said, voice cold as steel. “We hit them tonight. Full force. I want their doors blown in before they know what’s coming. We get her out, and anyone who stands in the way goes in the ground.”
The men nodded, grim and eager.
King turned back to the bag one last time, brushing his fingers across the worn strap. His chest ached, his pulse a steady drum of fury and fear. He thought of Lena’s defiant eyes, the way she’d looked at him like she could see through the monster everyone else feared.
He’d told himself she was a weakness but he lied. King was going to tear the world apart to get her back.