Chapter 33
Reaper
We’d sat in the shadows for hours, engines off.
Riot, Link, and I waited for Lucy to come back to us or at least give us an update.
By the time the emergency services had left, I was getting antsy.
As soon as the coast was clear, we pulled into the empty lot.
The motel was nothing but a crumbling building of ash and ruin, smoke still bleeding into the sky.
But there was no sign of Lucy. We’d scoured the whole place, and then there it was—a Fang patch pinned to the wall with a knife.
Not just any blade, but the blade. The one I gave Caleb the night he swore he’d never take another order that wasn’t his own. My knife, now hammered into blackened wood.
They knew I’d see it, knew I’d work out how they got it, and they knew who mattered most to me.
Lucy.
The Fangs weren’t only coming for the club anymore. They were coming for me, and for the last thing Caleb tried to keep out of our world. The one thing I could never seem to let go of.
Blood roared through my ears, my chest felt tight, and black edges crept into my vision. I pushed it all down hard. I couldn’t afford to panic because Lucy needed me. She needed Reaper, not Jay.
“Pres?” Riot strode around the corner, eyeing the patch on the wall.
“Fangs got Lucy.” My voice cracked.
“Fuck, then we go get her back.”
I ripped the knife free, steel gleaming too clean in the morning light, and pulled the burner from my pocket. It had one number in it. I hadn’t used it in years, but family’s a curse you can’t erase. I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to hear his voice.
It rang once, twice, then the line connected.
“Rox?”
The gravelly voice I knew too well responded, “You sound like a man already bleeding.”
“They took Lucy.”
“Where from?”
“Motel on the edge of town. Last night.”
Silence, then a sigh. “They know your weakness.”
I clenched the knife tighter. “I’m going to take them down.”
“You’ll need help.”
“I’ve got my brothers. I don’t want help.”
“You’ll get it anyway,” he said, same tone as when I was seventeen, standing over my first fight. “Meet me where it started.”
The line went dead.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, jaw grinding. My uncle didn’t ask who she was. He didn’t have to because he already knew. Caleb’s blood.
The Fangs had left their message, and my uncle had given me mine.
This wasn’t just war, it was family business.
The Steel Guards’ clubhouse sat deep in the woods, its old, corrugated siding patched with rust and pride. The smell of oil and smoke lingered in the gravel lot, the kind of scent that said men lived here, fought here, and bled here.
Riot and Link stayed back on their bikes. It was my meeting, my blood tie. Rox was waiting on the porch, cigarette glowing like a coal in the dark. His kutte looked older than me, patched and repatched, the leather worn dull at the edges.
“Pres,” he said, voice rough, like he’d swallowed glass and chased it with whiskey.
“Pres.” I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “They’ve got her.”
He exhaled smoke through his nose, gaze steady. “She’s been asking a lot of questions. How do you know it was the Fangs?”
My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. I pulled the Fang patch from my belt and tossed it onto the porch between us. “Left this behind, with my knife.”
Rox’s eyes narrowed, catching every detail. He toed the leather with his boot, studying it like it might talk. Then he looked back up at me.
“They’re not only poking the bear,” he said slowly, “they’re dragging your woman into the den.”
My shoulders tensed. “She’s not—” I started, but Rox’s look shut me down.
“Don’t waste my time, boy.” He stepped closer, close enough I could smell the bourbon rolling off him. “You think I can’t read what’s in front of me? Hell, the whole town can read it. I’ve heard things.”
My jaw locked tighter. “She’s just Caleb’s sister.”
Rox’s eyes glinted in the dark, sharp as glass. “She’s Caleb’s sister,” he said, “but that’s not all she is, is it?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He smirked, slow, like he’d been waiting for me to bite. “How do you think I know she’s your woman?”
I didn’t answer.
Rox shrugged, easy like he was talking about the weather. “Word gets around. Don’t take much. The way you stand in front of her, the way she looks at you. Brothers notice. Enemies notice faster.”
“She’s not...” I started, then stopped myself, because denying it felt like spitting in the dirt.
Rox tilted his head, studying me. “Doesn’t matter what you call her. To them, she’s yours, and that means she’s a target.”
The ride back from Rox was nothing but thunder in my head. His words chased me like wolves. “Doesn’t matter what you call her. To them, she’s yours, and that means she’s a target.”
Lucy’s face burned behind my eyes, her stubborn chin and that spark Caleb used to have.
I pulled into the lot, killed the engine, and sat there for a second, breathing in the hot air. The yard was too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you check your back twice before stepping off the bike.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. A few brothers were hunched at the bar, others were shooting pool but not saying a word. All of them stole quick glances my way. Then I saw her.
Gabby.
Propped against the bar like she owned the place, a smirk playing at her ruby red lips. She waited for me to notice her, eyes glittering with something cruel.
“Well, well,” she drawled, “looks like someone finally outplayed our little Lucy. Guess telling Gage where she liked to hide wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut and everything inside me snapped.
I was across the room before she could blink. My fist tangled in her collar, and I slammed her back against the wall so hard, the shelves rattled, bottles clinking like bones. Her boots scraped against the floor as I lifted her, dragging her up until she dangled an inch off the ground.
The room froze.
Her smirk cracked when my forearm pressed to her throat. “You sold her out.” I fumed shaking with fury. “Say it again. Give me a reason to snap your neck right here.”
Her hands clawed at my wrist, but I shoved harder, the red haze in my vision making it hard to see anything but her face. I didn’t care who was watching. Didn’t care about rules, respect, or the patch on my back.
“If Lucy comes back with so much as a scratch,” I growled, low and rough, my voice carrying to every corner of the room, “I’ll carve your name into the dirt myself. Do you understand me?”
Her hands came up, cocky still, but her eyes betrayed her. A flicker of doubt. A slip.
“Relax, Jay,” she rasped, my forearm pressing harder into her throat. “She’ll be fine... probably.”
I leaned in, close enough to smell the sour whiskey on her breath. My rage coiled tighter, dangerous and ready to snap.
“No,” I said. “You don’t get it. Lucy is mine to protect, and if she doesn’t come back whole, if she doesn’t come back breathing, I won’t care how many brothers are watching, I’ll bury you myself.”
The silence after those words was louder than any gunfire. The whole room felt it. For the first time since I’d known her, Gabby’s bravado cracked. She went still beneath my grip.
I dropped her and shoved her back one last time, leaving her gasping against the wall, clutching her throat. My hand lingered on her shoulder a beat longer than necessary, a promise of what I could’ve done if I’d let go of the last thread of control.
“You stay the hell out of this,” I warned, “or the Reaper will come for you first.”
When I stepped back, the brothers didn’t breathe. Eyes darted between me, Gabby, and the wall. No one spoke. Not Riot. Not Link. Not even the cocky prospects.
In that silence, I knew what Rox had meant.
Lucy wasn’t just Caleb’s sister anymore. Not just an outsider. To the club, to the enemies, to me, she was already marked.
Untouchable.
And that made her the most dangerous piece on the board.
The silence broke when Riot finally moved, slow and deliberate. He stepped forward, hand resting lazy on his belt, shades still hiding his eyes even in the dim light.
“You just made it official, Pres,” Riot said. “Whole room saw it. She’s yours.”
Heat still raced through me, my pulse pounding against my ribs. I turned to him, jaw tight. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t want it. Hell, I hated her when she first walked in.”
Riot’s mouth twitched, the closest thing he ever came to a smile. He gave a short, rough chuckle. “Fine line between love and hate. From where I’m standing, you crossed it a while back.”
I shook my head, running a hand over my face, trying to scrub away the fury. “You think I don’t know what that means? What target I just painted?”
Riot leaned in closer, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “Yeah. I think you know exactly what it means. Question is, can you carry it? Cos if you can’t, Pres, someone else is gonna pick up the slack, and she won’t survive it.”
His words hit harder than Gabby’s smirk ever could. I stared at him, the truth heavy between us.
Gabby opened her mouth, but Riot’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood, slow and deliberate. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “Club doesn’t keep rats. Not patched. Not women. Not anyone.” His eyes slid over to me. “You gonna deal with this, Pres?”
He didn’t even look at Gabby. His gaze stayed on me, steady and unflinching.
“Yeah, soon as I get Lucy home, but I want a prospect on her at all times. She doesn’t take a piss without us knowing.”
The words weren’t loud, but they landed heavy like a gavel. The whole room understood—Gabby’s fate was sealed. She wasn’t getting mercy, only a delay. I didn’t have time for this. I needed Lucy back, safe.