Chapter 26
Lucy
The walls felt like they were closing in, not from fear, but from pressure. The weight of the truth, the blood already spilled, the blood that was coming.
I stood in the hallway outside the room for hours, listening as boots thundered, voices echoed, and the club mobilized like a war machine. Orders were barked, names rattled off, numbers confirmed. Jay ran his crew like a general, and they were on a warpath.
Because of me.
No, not because of me, I reminded myself, jaw tightening. Because Gage sold them out. Because someone put a bullet in Diesel’s head and tried to bury the truth. Because someone had murdered my brother and left him in a shitty motel room. I’d dug it up, and now, they were all paying for it.
I slipped out onto the back steps for air, the noise of the clubhouse bleeding into the night. It was one of those evenings where the tension under your skin wouldn’t give in, no matter how many deep breaths you took.
I thought back to the night before, when I’d given into my weakness and let Jay take me to bed. At the time, I was disappointed that he’d stopped it from going further. Now, without a lust-filled head, I was glad he had. We didn’t need that complication. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
The screen door creaked, and Maria stepped out, holding two mugs. She handed me one without asking.
“Careful,” she said. “It’s hot.”
I took it anyway, letting the steam warm my hands. “Thanks.”
She sat beside me, her braid sliding over one shoulder. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one people get right before they either run or burn the whole place down.”
A laugh caught in my throat. “Haven’t decided which yet.”
Maria’s eyes crinkled. “Then you’re still fighting. That’s good.” She sipped her coffee. “Caleb used to sit out here when it got too loud inside. Said the quiet helped him think straight.”
The lump in my throat returned. “I didn’t know that.”
“Not many did.” She glanced towards the door. “Don’t let them make you feel like you don’t belong, Lucy. The ones who matter will see you for who you are. And the ones who don’t... Well, they’ll just have to live with it.”
We sat in silence for a while, sipping coffee, the cool air settling around us. Inside, music thumped, but out there, it was just us.
I wandered back towards the bar, where someone had left a bottle of whiskey on the counter. I poured two fingers, hands shaking slightly, then added more. Three. Four. Close enough.
“Hey, I’m Finn.”
I turned and found a prospect with pale green eyes.
Dirty blonde hair he kept neat, though longer in front, swept over his forehead, and stubble trimmed close.
He wasn’t hardened yet, not the way the others were, but there was grit under the softness, a kind of stubborn toughness in his eyes that made me think he’d take a beating just to prove he could stand back up.
His kutte still read ‘pup’ like the kid at the garage.
I held up the glass. “Lucy.” Then downed the drink.
“You alright?”
I could’ve lied and said yes, but I didn’t.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I’m still standing.”
He gave a small nod and took a sip from the bottle. No questions. No sympathy.
That was the thing about the club. The Dead Knights weren’t built on comfort or softness. They were built on action and loyalty. Surviving shit most people couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t warm, but it was real. I was in it, whether I wanted to be or not.
I moved to the corner couch, flash drive heavy in my hand like lead. I’d memorized everything, dates, faces, transactions, names I didn’t want to know. Men in suits shaking hands with killers. Local cops bought off.
It was bigger than the Fangs. Bigger than the club. But for the time being, the war was personal.
I pulled my knees up, letting the whiskey burn on the way down and warm me up. My nerves crawled under my skin, every sound outside making me flinch. Not from fear of the Dead Knights, some still hated me, but knowing Gage was out there, and he knew exactly what I had.
“He won’t go far.” Jay had said that. But the question wasn’t how far he’d go, it was who he’d take down on his way out.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number. I didn’t answer. A second buzz then a message.
Unknown: You should've stayed gone.
Gage.
I stared at the message until the screen went black, my reflection glaring back at me.
Show Jay. That was the smart move. He’d lock down the clubhouse, call the rest of the brothers, hunt Gage harder than ever.
But then what? He’d cage me. Protect me until I couldn’t breathe. Worse, if the others found out I was his weak spot, they’d start looking at him differently. Questioning his judgment. Questioning me. Again.
I shoved the phone deeper into my pocket like burying it could hide my secret.
The meeting room door slammed. Boots pounded through the hallway. Jay’s voice, sharp and commanding, rattled through the walls as he gave orders. He was already carrying enough weight for all of them. For me.
I leaned my head against the glass, breath fogging the window. No, I wouldn’t add more to his load.
They didn’t have to let me go. I knew that. Hell, half the room had looked at me like dead weight when Jay said my name. Outsider, unpatched, Caleb’s ghost in a leather jacket.
I couldn’t sit in the clubhouse and sip whiskey while the Dead Knights bled for a truth I’d dragged out of the dark.
Caleb hadn’t raised me to flinch, and if I wanted a place at the table, if I wanted them to believe I wasn’t there to stir shit, then I had to stand shoulder to shoulder with them when the bullets started flying.
So, when Jay said warehouse job, I didn’t hesitate.
If I died that night, at least it would be on my terms. Fighting for something, fighting for Caleb.
“Not in that dress,” Jay said. His voice carried no judgment. “You’ll get torn up in it.”
“Come with me,” he said and walked up to his room.
He pulled a set of clothes from his chest, black trousers, worn but sturdy, and a long-sleeved Henley that smelled faintly of leather and his oaky aftershave.
He handed them over without looking me in the eye, then gestured to the bathroom. “Change. We leave in five.”
I shut the bathroom door halfway. The clubhouse creaked, boots thudding in the hall downstairs, engines revving somewhere beyond the walls. I stripped out of the boho dress, the fabric sliding down my body in a whisper and pooling at my ankles.
Through the narrow gap in the door, I caught him watching. A flash of broad shoulders taut against the frame, jaw set like he was holding himself together by threads. His gaze flicked over me once, hot and sharp, before he dragged it down to the floor as if the effort cost him.
The air between us crackled. Want, dangerous and undeniable, and all the things standing in the way of it and I felt it, the want he was fighting.
The same want that was tearing me open from the inside.
He could pretend it wasn’t there, bury it under leather and harsh words, but I’d seen it in his eyes. God help me, it made me ache.
I pulled the Henley over my head. It swallowed me whole, soft and worn, sleeves slipping past my hands. The trousers fit better, hugging my hips, heavy enough to ground me in the moment. I laced my boots tighter, each knot cinching down the tremor that had nothing to do with fear.
When I stepped back out, Jay’s eyes finally rose to mine and that time he didn’t look away. The shirt hung loose on me, dipping at the collar, the sleeves pushed up to my elbows. His shirt. His clothes. His smell clinging to my skin.
Something in his face cracked. Desire, raw and unguarded, before he masked it again. But not before I saw it—he liked me in his clothes, maybe even loved it.
“You’ll do,” he said at last, voice rougher than before, gravel hiding under restraint. He turned for the door, shoulders stiff, but the weight of his stare still burned across my skin.
***
The van reeked of rust and burnt oil. Silence pressed against me like a weight, broken only by the tick of Jay’s cooling engine.
We checked weapons. Riot’s rifle clicked into place. Keno slid on gloves and cracked his neck. I felt the metal of my Glock dig into my palm, cold, solid, protection. Boxer, Link, and Finn had already jumped out and were scoping out the area.
Jay’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Treat any movement like a threat. Last chance to stay behind.”
I swallowed. “You really think I came this far to warm a seat?”
No answer, he just shook his head.
The warehouse loomed like a beast. Rusted steel groaned, shadows swirled. Two men paced near the back, guns swinging lazily.
Jay tapped my arm. “Left flank.”
My boots made no sound, my heart hammering in my ears was louder. The Fang’s back was to me. One strike of the pistol grip to his skull and bone cracked under the steel. He fell. Silence ruled for a heartbeat, then the thrum of my own pulse took over.
The second man whirled. Jay’s rifle barked, echoing off the metal walls. He hit the floor mid-step, arms splayed, eyes wide in shock.
Smoke from a flare stung my eyes and heat licked my cheeks. I could taste the gunpowder, the sweat, the acrid scent of fire.
Another figure burst from behind the cover of pallets, gun raised. Instinct caused me to fire before I could even think it. Two shots to the chest and he hit the floor hard.
Jay slid beside me, scanning. Not a word, but a nod of acknowledgment.
Riot and Keno flanked north. Smoke clung to them, swirling in the air like living shadows. I pressed forward, Glock low, muscles tense, senses screaming.
A man raised a rifle at Keno. I fired, bullet ripping through air, hitting his shoulder. He screamed, gun clattering to the ground. My ears rang, heart racing, lungs burning, every nerve alive.
Metal clanged, feet shuffled, bodies hit the concrete. Jay punched a man mid-lunge. Keno disarmed another with a swift kick. Riot’s rifle barked twice, answered by screams.
I felt sweat running down my spine. My hands trembled, but adrenaline sharpened me. It was a long way from being a TA, but it was how I was brought up. My father didn’t believe that males got all the fun. Caleb and I were both trained to handle firearms, to shoot, to hunt, to survive.
I moved again, eyes on Jay. Every sense was acute. Every step mattered. We cleared the warehouse. Guns, drugs, and burner phones were all tossed into duffels.
“You held your own,” Jay said.
I exhaled, letting a ragged laugh escape. “Told you I wasn’t here to stir shit.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed and he pointed to the man I’d shot. “That guy, Malo, used to extract info with a crowbar.”
I didn’t flinch. “Then I’m glad I emptied my clip.”
Riot whistled. “Steel in her spine.”
Keno nodded. “More than some brothers in their first fight.”
Jay’s gaze lingered, respect, wariness, acknowledgment.
We slipped into the trees, the warehouse behind us burning. Heat brushed my back, flames illuminating the dark.
I drew a deep breath. Heart still hammering, lungs on fire. Every muscle screaming. Every sense alive.
I was in. All the way.
Purpose. Survival. Revenge. Every step forward from there was mine to take, and I was ready.