Nineteen
The calm of a storm can only be masked for so long.
W alking into the clubhouse hits me in the chest like a damn freight train—this place is in my blood.
Born and raised in these walls, built by the men I grew up idolizing and the brothers I’d bleed for.
Whatever this storm is, I’ll be damned if I don’t walk through fire to protect what’s mine.
Club. Family. Legacy. The brothers knew I’d call church the second I got discharged.
We’ve got unfinished business, and they know it.
Ma and Heather damn near burn holes through me with their glares as I stomp past them.
I get it—they’re scared, frustrated, tired.
But right now, this is bigger than feelings.
These motherfuckers nearly put me in the ground, and it’s been a month and a half with no payback, no straightforward answers. That ends today.
I slam the gavel, and silence falls like a guillotine. My brothers lock in, their attention sharp, waiting. Rage and purpose burn in their eyes, and I feed off it.
“Let’s get this shit going,” I growl. “We’ve got work to do.”
I lean back, pain flaring through my side like someone’s driving a spike into my ribs. I grit my teeth and ignore it. No one sees me wince. I don’t get to show weakness—not here, not ever.
Axel’s watching me. He sees through the act. He always does. But he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“Axel,” I say, locking eyes. “You said it was Demon and his club. Tell me how you know. Let everyone hear it.”
He gives me a beat—just long enough to let me know he’s not thrilled with repeating himself—then nods.
“Bitch from Satan’s Keepers hit up Armand, Gabriella’s man.” He pauses, waiting for a reaction. When none comes, he continues. “Pop’s confirmed it. According to the word, the club girl said Demon bragged about taking you out. Whole damn club threw a party to celebrate.”
My jaw tightens. “And we’re just supposed to take her word? She’s a club girl, maybe looking to flip sides. This could be a play to get close. Or get protection.”
I see the tension in Axel’s shoulders, but he bites his tongue.
Before he can respond, Pop leans forward. “I can answer that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. This secretive shit doesn’t sit right. Nitro and Axel already told me he’s been moving in the shadows. Now he wants to talk?
He reads me like a book. “Don’t give me that look, son. You wanna lead, fine. But you’ll need to learn when to listen. So shut up and hear what I’ve got to say.”
I say nothing, but the fire in my chest is damn near uncontainable.
“I’ve been in contact with Sam and Gabriella.” He holds up a hand before I can explode. “No—calm your ass down and listen.”
I’m barely holding it together. The fact that he’s been this deep in without cluing me in? Unforgivable. But I keep my mouth shut and my eyes locked on his.
“As I was saying, I’ve been working with Gabriella to figure out how deep this shit goes. And it’s deep. Real deep. It’s been building for years—hell, decades. All it needed was a spark. We were the target. We still are. But now we know who and what we’re dealing with.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. And for the first time, I looked at him––really looked at him. My old man looks tired. Not soft, not broken—just worn. But behind his eyes, a fire burns.
“Before your mother and I got together, she lost her family. Moved to Sacramento, started over. But it wasn’t that simple.
” He gives me a look that says. This is only the beginning .
“Back then, our chapter was new, just getting off the ground while making connections, but still, we were making moves. Us coming here and moving heavy created beef with the Keepers. We thought we handled it. We thought the war was over before it started. We were wrong. We apparently only won a battle, a bloody one, but not enough to cripple them completely. They’ve been waiting—just biding their time.
And now, their beef aligns with the Salvatores’ agenda. ”
He slams his palm down on the table. “They think they’re gonna kill two birds with one stone. Not on my fucking watch.”
His fury’s out in the open now. Raw and unfiltered.
“Let’s back up,” he says, voice low, jaw clenched. “Let’s talk about your mother… and her history.”
His hands tighten on the table. That’s when I know—this is personal. Really personal.
“Your mother is originally from New York,” my father begins, voice low.
“Her family ran with the mafia—her father was a made man, her mother the daughter of one. They married, settled in New York… until everything exploded. While they lived there, your aunt, your mother's sister, caught the eye of Don Stefano Salvatore, a twisted fuck. She rejected him at every turn. But he was obsessed with her, so instead of accepting that she didn’t want his ass, he kidnapped her and did who knows what to her.”
I catch the flicker in his eyes—the crack in his armor.
“She was held for a year,” my father says, voice low.
“Abused. Tortured. Her family did everything possible to get her back, but nothing worked. Desperate, your grandfather brought his family back to San Francisco, hoping the Barones would step in.” He pauses, jaw tight.
“Before they could and with the noise your grandfather was making…” His eyes darken.
“It cost them. Your mother’s sister—” He swallows.
“She was dumped on the family's lawn like garbage. That was the turning point.”
The room’s dead silent.
He drags a hand through silver-streaked hair, the weight of his words settling on his shoulders. There's no flinching when he finally meets my gaze—just cold, hard truth.
“Your mother… she snapped. Grief turned to vengeance. She went back to New York alone. Got close enough to Salvatore to end him.”
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
The air in the room shifts. Legacy. Blood. Wrath passed down like heirlooms. I stare at Pop.
Ma?
She’s always been fierce. Steel in silk. But this ? This is cold-blooded and calculated in a way I never would have expected from my mother. I look over at my brothers, and they are both wearing similar shocked expressions as I am. Pops keeps going.
“Before she could make it home, someone figured out what she had done. A hit was put on the entire family. The Barones got wind of it, but it was too late. Her parents were murdered. Your mother and her baby sister were the only ones left.”
He releases a long breath.
“Gabriella said the Barones kept their word. They hid your mother. Changed her name. Moved her out here. That’s when I met her.”
He tries to smile, but I’m not there yet. I’m still stuck on the image of my mother alone, grieving, becoming something ruthless enough to end a Don.
And surviving the fallout.
Why the fuck didn’t we know?
“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you know?” I demand, my voice sharp, and I’m not the only one. My brothers grumble in agreement, thinking the same thing––this could’ve blown up in our faces long ago. Hell, it already has —I got fucking shot.
My Pop fixes me with a stare. “Barone didn’t want to risk it. They made your ma swear an oath— omertà. A blood vow with deadly consequences if broken. She wasn’t allowed to tell a soul. Not me. Not you. Not even her sister.”
He pauses, jaw clenched, voice thick.
“They’re still separated to this day because of it. And it’s killing her, Talon. I never saw that look in your mother’s eyes until she told me the truth. Not in all our years.”
His shoulders drop as he runs a hand over his face.
“This shit—” he shakes his head. “She carried all of it to protect us. Every damn one of us.”
He looks down, runs a hand over his face.
“Elijah Barone passed that knowledge to his kids before he died. They took on the responsibility. But somewhere along the way, your mother slipped. Contacted a relative through a family friend. I don’t know why, and I didn’t ask.
That mistake got that family killed—and gave the Salvatore’s a breadcrumb. ”
The finality in his voice is clear—he’s all in.
But I’m not him.
“What the fuck do you mean? Those motherfuckers didn’t do their goddamn jobs, and now some Mafia Don is after my mother. And I got shot. If she swore an oath, they should’ve kept her alive— all of us alive. Made damn sure their bullshit didn’t touch us. What the fuck, Pop?”
The words are out before I can stop them—and I regret it instantly.
Pop’s expression goes lethal.
In a blink, he’s out of his chair and in my face. Both hands slam down on the table, his voice thunderous.
“Damn it, Talon, were you even listening? They have been keeping her safe. They’ve done everything to protect your mother, all of us . Your mother made a mistake. And unless that bullet rattled your brain more than we thought, I need you to get your head on straight. For fuck’s sake, kid.”
His chest heaves with fury, and I sit there and take it for a beat because he’s right. His jaw works, and my body tightens. The world feels like it’s spinning too fast and falling apart at the same time.
“I know. I know, Pop. I’m sorry. My head’s… fucked. You’re right.”
I draw in a breath, try to slow the chaos, and shift gears, because there’s one thing pressing harder than all the rest.
“I’ve got my shit to work through with the Barones, but what about my kids? Have you seen them? Are they here?”
It’s a pivot—yeah. But Gabriella and the kids have been in the back of my mind since I stepped into the clubhouse.
I didn’t see them, and I need to know they’re still close.
Still safe. I look at him, hoping for a yes.
Needing it. The anger drains from his face. The hard lines around his mouth soften.
And then he smiles.
I needed the shift. Gabriella and the twins have been on my mind since I walked into the clubhouse—and they weren’t here. I don’t like that. Pop’s expression softens. The anger slips away like a tide.