Chapter Thirty-Two
Navigator
Silver Shadows’ clubhouse...
Brothers scrambled for the exit as word spread that Maureen was in labor, each frantic to get to the hospital.
Maureen. One of us. A sister. More importantly, Dec’s wife.
Kin to King. Family. As I gathered my laptop, my phone vibrated, a jarring buzz against my thigh.
Reaching for it, I scowled, the frustration a raw itch under my skin. “What the fuck does he want now?”
“Who is it?” Sypher asked, his own movements efficient as he unplugged his laptop, already geared for the hospital.
Connecting the call, I grumbled, the words thick with irritation, “Not a good time, old man.”
“The Death Dogs have Karlyn!” My father’s voice, a thunderclap, ripped through the line.
Morpheus barking orders in the background was a chilling confirmation.
Quickly, I looked up, a sharp snap of my fingers halting Sypher in his tracks.
The need to leave, to be there for Maureen, evaporated with a sudden, cold dread.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice a low growl as I sank back into a chair, opening my computer once more.
Sypher mirrored my action, his brow furrowed.
This was a twisted kind of confirmation—the threat to Karlyn, the one person who made Jackson.
.. human. The thought of her in their clutches sent a tremor through me, a violation of something sacred.
“Yes, I’m fucking sure, boy!” Cerberus roared, the sheer force of his anger vibrating through the phone. “Find her. Call in whomever you have to. Morpheus wants her found. NOW!”
The line went dead. A heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the frantic beat of my own heart.
This was a choice already being made for me.
To abandon Maureen, for Karlyn. But Karlyn wasn’t just any woman.
She was Jackson’s soul. To risk Jackson’s stability, his already precarious grip on reality, by letting Karlyn be taken?
The betrayal of a sister, of family, gnawed at me.
Yet, the thought of Jackson’s unraveling was a horror all of its own.
“Shit,” I cursed, sliding further into the chair, the leather cool against my skin. “Cerberus said the Death Dogs have Karlyn.”
Sypher frowned, then stuck his head out the door, a sharp whistle cutting through the air. “Hey, Jingles! You seen Karlyn?”
Jingles, a mountain of a man, lumbered over. “She’s at Trudy’s with Grace. Beck already called Johnny. They will meet us at the hospital. Let’s go.” His words were a heavy stone dropped into the already churning waters of my mind. The hospital or Karlyn, the soul of our brother?
A knot of guilt tightened in my stomach.
I had to choose who to believe.
My brother or my father.
The thunderous roar of my father’s frantic voice rang out. I needed to be sure.
Sypher’s head snapped to mine, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll break into the town’s feed. You’ve got Trudy’s place.”
My fingers flew across my keyboard, a frantic dance against the ticking clock.
I prayed my father was wrong. But the desperation in Cerberus’ voice, the raw fear.
.. it was all too real. And Karlyn. If she was taken, Jackson would shatter.
Protecting Karlyn, and possibly saving Jackson from himself, was worth any potential repercussions King might enforce.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jingles’ voice was a low rumble of confusion as he walked into church, his presence a grounding force I desperately needed, and simultaneously, a reminder of who I was failing.
“Hang on,” I muttered, my gaze locked on the screen as I pulled up the security cameras for Trudy’s. The image flickered to life, a grainy, unsettling view.
“Oh shit,” Sypher breathed, his eyes wide, glued to his screen.
Just then, the feed loaded, and I pushed play. The images seared themselves into my mind. The Death Dogs’ brutal attack; Johnny, gunned down; Grace taking a punch to the face, then being hauled out.
My gut clenched.
This wasn’t a drill. This was real, and it was happening now. “Jingles, call the brothers. All of them. NOW!” My words were torn from my throat, a desperate command that felt like a surrender.
“Why?”
“The Death Dogs have Grace!” My voice cracked. The weight of this double blow was crushing.
“And Karlyn,” Sypher said, spinning his laptop toward me, his voice grim.
I watched Zephyr, a phantom of violence, drag Karlyn down the alley, toward a waiting van. The sight was a punch in the gut.
“This is bad, Nav. Real fucking bad.” Sypher’s words hung in the air, a confirmation of my worst fears.
“Oh fuck,” I barely heard Jingles say as he reached for his phone.
No doubt calling Cash. “Hey, get back here fast. No, I know Maureen is in labor, but I’m going to need you here.
Grace and Karlyn have been kidnapped. The Death Dogs have them.
Just bring everyone with you and get here fast. We’re gonna need everyone to lock down King and Ravage when they learn what happened. Yeah, sure, I’ll tell Nav.”
I watched as Jingles pocketed his phone and slowly turned toward me. I could see the war brewing in his eyes. The grim determination settling in his bones, as he said clearly, “You need to find them fast, brother, because all hell is about to break loose.”
Nodding, I returned to my computer, going over all the feeds in Trudy’s place, when I heard the distinct thunder of pipes roaring back into the compound. Moments later, Cash and several other brothers stormed in, all barking, shouting at once.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Any word?”
“Does King know?”
“When were they taken?”
“ENOUGH!” Cash shouted, silencing everyone as he turned his cold eyes on me.
“You’ve got about fifteen minutes before King learns what happened.
Make them count, brother.” I nodded. “As for the rest of you, get ready. ’Cause when King and Ravage show up, it’s going to take all of us to stop them.
I don’t fucking care what you have to do, pray to whatever God you believe in, because if we don’t stop the two of them, they will kill everyone in their path to get to their women. Understood?”
Heads nodded.
“Cash, I have to call Reaper,” Sypher said, reaching for his phone as the vice president of the Silver Shadows shook his head.
“No,” Cash ordered firmly. “Pulling rank, kid. No one fucking knows until we know what the hell is going on.”
“I can’t not tell him this. Ravage is important to the club.”
“Don’t give a fuck. Put the phone away, or I will break it.”
Sypher gulped and did what he was told.
The air in the room grew thick with tension as everyone scrambled to prepare for the inevitable storm.
I scanned each monitor, desperately searching for any sign of movement, any clue that could lead us to Grace and Karlyn.
Panic simmered beneath my focus, threatening to break through as I realized how little time we truly had.
Every second felt like an eternity, and failure was not an option.
As time quickly ticked by, I made a note of every movement, every gesture, every person in Trudy’s before the Death Dogs attacked.
My mind was a whirlwind of observation, a finely tuned instrument.
Every detail was cataloged, filed away for later use, for the protection of myself and those I cared about.
It was a skill I’d honed, a necessary evil in this world.
Then, I saw Sypher stiffen, his eyes darting to mine, then back to his computer.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, a dissonance in the carefully constructed normalcy of the room.
When I frowned, he slowly shook his head and looked at my computer.
My gut twisted as I saw a text box appear and read.
Got a video
Then instantly a video popped up in the chat box.
My breath hitched. With shaking hands, I clicked on it, a primal urge to slam the laptop shut warring with my ingrained need for information.
My heart dropped into my stomach as my face paled.
It was Grace. Her beautiful face etched in horror, her body covered in bruises and cuts as she lay helpless, tied down to a bed, Death Dogs surrounding her as they jacked off, Skinner between her legs, as she lay there unmoving, her eyes void of life.
It was an image that would be burned into my memory forever.
Slamming my computer shut, Cash, and a few others, turned to look at me.
“What?” Cash’s voice was sharp, laced with an impatience I knew all too well.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t tell them. My instincts screamed at me to lie, to invent some plausible distraction, but the truth of what was on that screen was a poison I couldn’t pretend not to have swallowed.
Yet, the thought of revealing it, of seeing them witness her at her lowest, the pity in their eyes when we rescued her, was too much.
I flat out refused.
My refusal, born of self-preservation, not only for her, but for the others in this room, was a burden only I would carry.
No one else.
Kytten, Cash’s old lady, walked over to me. Her presence was a calming force, a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. Cupping my face, she looked me in the eyes, her gaze steady and unwavering. “Let me see.”
Tears welled in my eyes, my carefully guarded composure failing. My heart broke, not just because of the content of the video, but because I alone would carry the burden of Grace’s torment.
“You don’t want to see it, sweetheart.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to shield her from this ugliness. I knew the consequences of this revelation; it would taint everything.
“Show me, Nav,” Kytten said softly, refusing to look away. Her quiet determination was a mirror to my own inner turmoil, a silent challenge to my refusal.
I was trapped. Denying her meant betraying her trust, undermining the very foundation of our shared world.
Nodding, I relented, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.
My hands trembled as I reopened my computer, a silent apology forming on my lips.
I watched as she opened the video, her expression unreadable, a mask I desperately wished I possessed.
When she was done, she slowly stood and looked directly at Cash.
I didn’t claim to know what he saw when he looked at his woman, the loyalty, the respect, the love.
But I knew the second he realized what was on that video.
The air crackled with unspoken accusations, with the shattering of illusions.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” the VP roared, turning to punch a hole in the wall. The impact echoed through the hushed church, a violent punctuation to the revelation. Every brother in church looked down at the floor, the silence in the room evidence enough of the devastation wrought.
Breathing heavily, Cash turned back to look at me. His eyes, usually alight with a fierce protectiveness, were clouded with pain. “Delete the video. Now. You too, Sypher. I mean it. They don’t see it. EVER!”
His command was harsh, born of a desperate need to control the damage, to pretend this never happened. But I knew, with a sickening certainty, that it had.