Six
When they say Karma is a bitch, they weren’t fucking lying.
I don't hold back once the last brother exits, and the door shuts behind him. “You better motherfucking explain yourself,” I bite out, every syllable thick with rage. It’s not the kind of anger that shouts to be heard—it burns low and dangerous, like a fuse waiting for detonation.
“I know for a fucking fact you didn’t tell me shit.
Not on the phone. Not in a single damn text after the day you left.
You asked me to call you when I got my shit together—that’s it. ”
My chest is heaving. I’m barely keeping it together.
“Not one goddamn word about being pregnant. With my kids.”
I pause, eyes locked on her like a trigger I’m fighting not to pull.
“What kind of game is this, Gabriella?” My voice drops, hard and cold. “Because there is no way in hell I wouldn’t want to know. Wouldn’t want to see my fucking kids. No way.” I say, shaking my head.
The weight of it—all the time lost, all the moments I’ll never get back—crashes into my chest like a steel fist. I slam my hand on the table. The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot, sharp and final.
My jaw clenches as silence falls between us.
Because what the fuck else is there to say?
My mind is spinning. Rage has me by the throat, but underneath it is this gut-twisting mix of disbelief and guilt that won’t let up. She sat there for weeks… months… years, raising my sons without me. And I didn’t even know they existed.
What the hell kind of man does that make me?
My eyes stay on her, searching for anything that’ll make this make sense. But she’s still. Unbothered. Her face is unreadable, lips pressed in that way that used to piss me off when we fought. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.
She just stares.
And that calm? That cold, calculating silence?
It’s like she’s the one in control, not me.
Not even close. My knuckles sting from the hit.
My pulse pounds in my ears. But I keep waiting.
Because if she doesn’t explain or say something real, I swear to God, I’ll burn everything down to get to the truth.
“FUCKING NONE. And you damn well know it, Miss Barone .”
We stare each other down, my jaw tight, blood pounding.
I would never put my hands on a woman—but right now, with how she’s looking at me, cold and unreadable, detached, she’s pushing every limit I have.
She inhales deeply, as if trying to pull herself together.
The boy—my son—starts to speak, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.
“Let me tell you a story,” she says, voice glacial, and I swear I’m starting to hate that tone with a passion. Still, I force my expression neutral and nod once, sharp and curt.
“When I was ten, I was kidnapped. One of my father’s enemies took me because he wouldn’t do business with them.
These men were involved in things our family refused to touch.
While I was held…” Her voice falters, but she doesn’t look away.
“They were brutal. I was tortured every day for weeks. I survived, but some days, I didn’t want to. At ten years old, I begged for death.”
She pauses, haunted eyes locked on mine, and even though I’m barely keeping it together, I listen. I owe her that much.
“One night, while they were starting in on me again, my father found me. His men killed every one of them.” Her voice lowers. “It took months to heal physically. Longer to repair what it did to my mind.”
Her hand rests on the table, and Malikai—my other son—reaches over and laces his fingers with hers.
But it’s Sebastian who draws my focus. He gets up, moves to the back wall, and leans against it like he needs space.
His head hangs low, fists flexing at his sides.
The guy with them looks over, and they exchange a silent, knowing look.
I feel a flare of irrational anger at the quiet exchange. I force myself to let it go for now.
Gabriella draws a breath, and I watch as every trace of emotion leaves her face. Ice settles over her again as Malikai tightens his grip on her hand.
“My father did everything he could to protect Sam and me. But he failed. My kidnapping was the wake-up call that haunted him for the rest of his life. After he got me back, he realized hiding me in plain sight wasn’t enough. So, he made a choice—to remove my mother and me from that world.”
She swallows hard. “He moved us here. Gave us new names. A quiet life. We weren’t supposed to be completely out of reach, just far enough to be safe.
My name—Gabriella Sunters—was a twist on my mother’s maiden name.
Rebecca Saunders. The plan was always for me to return one day.
To take my place beside my brother as his consigliere.
” Her lips twitch, not quite a smile. “And I would have. Until you.”
That last line hits like a punch. She keeps going.
“My father warned me not to get close to anyone. And I tried. Until you.” Her eyes burn into mine. “Until your little game. The one that made me fall for you. The one you played for two fucking years.”
A growl and a scoff erupt, both from the boys. I don’t even try to look at them. I know the hate in their eyes. And if my old man had done half the shit I did? I’d feel the same damn way. My mother? She’s gonna crucify me.
Gabriella watches me, and I can’t tell what the hell her expression means—before I can figure it out, the mask slams back down.
“Anyway. My father found out I was dating you. He was surprised. Conflicted. But he never told me to stop. I didn’t know then what I know now.”
She breathes in deep, voice turning quiet but steady.
“He didn’t object to us, but discouraged me from telling you who I was. He said he’d worked with your family for over twenty years. He believed your parents were good people. They wouldn't risk my safety even without knowing who I was.”
Her eyes drift past me, a soft smile curling her lips, so faint it might’ve never been there.
“He used to talk about his godson. Said you were a handful as a kid. I could hear the sadness in his voice, even when he tried to hide it. He hated he had to step back from your family after I was born. But he had to protect me.”
And then it clicks. Hard.
I stare at her.
Elijah Barone was my godfather. I remember him being around when I was little, but less and less as I got older. And then… he left. He was just gone.
Well, I’ll be damned.
“Before everything happened, he used to tell me you were a good match for me. He had a lot of respect for your father, Brick… and your mother, Val...” Gabriella shifts in her seat and clears her throat. My eyes narrow when she adds, “Vera.”
She says my mother’s name like it tastes bad. I don’t miss it.
The fuck was that?
Then my brother opens his mouth, and even I flinch at what he says.
“So Daddy sent you here to keep you safe, and your big idea of protection was getting with his godson? Get knocked up, spy a little, and—”
“No.” Her voice cuts through the room like a blade—sharp, clear, and deadly calm. She’s pissed, and rightfully so. The implication wasn’t subtle.
But Nitro’s not wrong for asking. His job is to protect this club. He’s used to digging through bullshit, even if he has to do it with a sledgehammer.
“My father already knew Brick,” she says, eyes locked on Nitro now.
“Your father and mine were friends long before I came into the picture, before you came into the picture. That friendship served two purposes. First, to keep an eye on a powerful outlaw crew he could do business with. Second, to eventually forge a more permanent working relationship. He and your father were negotiating small deals for years. My father was waiting for the right moment—to see if your club grew, if Brick could handle what he wanted to do with the club. And when that time came, he believed you were the kind of man I’d be safe with, Talon.
He believed you were different than what you turned out to be. ”
Her voice is ice again. No emotion. Just facts with a kill shot embedded in the truth.
The Ice Queen has returned.
“Wait… what about your mom?” Axel cuts in, clearly trying to make sense of the bigger picture. “Your parents knew ours. You and Talon were together for what? Two years? You telling me no one recognized you? How the fuck is that possible? Even with a name change, our parents would still know yours.”
He runs a hand over his face and scowls, eyes shifting between me and her.
“This whole thing is fucked.”
He’s not wrong. It is. But right now? All I care about is my kids. Everything else can wait.
Gabriella ignores his questions and keeps going.
“One night, I was talking to Sam. My father overheard me tell him I was pregnant. He lost it. Wanted to kill you for knocking up his seventeen-year-old daughter and not marrying her first.” She huffs a humorless laugh.
“I told him it would be bad for business for him to get involved. Eventually, he calmed down and accepted it… in his own way.”
Her face softens. There’s a flicker of fondness when she talks about him—then a shadow crosses over her, and her eyes close.
Loss. I feel it from across the room.
“The night before I came here for the last time, the club and my family finalized the expansion deal. Everything was riding high. You’d just struck gold with my father.
I came here that day to tell you everything—about the pregnancy, about who I was.
I was twelve weeks along. Showing a little, which made sense. I was carrying multiples.”
She tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I had a feeling something was off that day. That gut-deep warning that you can’t shake. And when I made it to your room, I found you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Fucking a bottle blonde. The same one you made your ol’ lady… the one you had a kid with.”
Everything in me locks up.
“I knew then what I’d tried to ignore. The rumors were true.
I was a game. And you were done playing.
After two years of pretending, you were finished.
You didn’t even have the decency to stop when you knew I was standing there.
You wanted me to see. Because the game with the untouchable girl was over, you didn’t have to pretend anymore. ”
She leans forward slightly, voice sharp and cold.
“You broke me, Brian Talon Masterson.”
Her mask falters again. Her emotions are right beneath the surface, cracking her armor piece by piece, but she keeps talking.
“I went home and told my father everything. He and my brother were livid. They wanted to call the deal off, burn the whole thing to the ground. I begged them not to. I told them to let it go. My father still wanted you to take responsibility. So, I tried. I called. I texted. And got nothing and nowhere. So I moved on.”
Her gaze hardens.
“He wanted to go to your father. Tell him what you did. I begged him not to. Told him if you weren’t man enough to face me, you sure as hell didn’t deserve to be in our kids’ lives. I meant it. I still do.”
She shrugs, emotionless again.
“When I realized you’d changed your number, I stopped. But after they were born, I tried again. I called the club. A woman answered. Heather. She told me never to call again. So I didn’t.” She meets my eyes, flat and unflinching. “And here we are. Any questions?”
I grind my teeth.
“No.”
I can’t do this. I can’t look at her, can’t hear her voice, can’t sit in this fucking room another second.
So I get up—and walk the fuck out.