Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Torment
The journey to the Connecticut border felt like driving through hell itself.
Every mile stretched into eternity. Every second that ticked by was another second Brandy was in Stone Ward’s hands.
Another second she was bleeding, broken, terrified.
Another second our baby—our baby—was in danger.
The engines of the three motorcycles flanking us roared through the still night air, the vibration traveling up through my spine, but I barely felt it.
All I could feel was the rage. The desperation.
The crushing, suffocating terror that I was going to be too late.
I’d lost her twice now. Once when she’d run from the bedroom after I’d fucked her against the wall like an animal, unable to articulate what she meant to me.
And again, when Stone Ward had taken her from that gas station while I’d been standing in a barn arguing about Federation rules and institutional politics and all the bullshit that didn’t matter.
Not compared to her. Not compared to the life growing inside her.
Hex rode ahead of the SUV, his posture rigid, his shoulders set in a way that spoke of decades of violence and control.
The man whose daughter I’d gotten pregnant.
The man whose past had dragged Brandy into this nightmare.
Beside me, Mercy kept pace, his presence steady and grounding as he gripped the steering wheel.
Smokey and Dutch flanked us on either side, two weathered warriors who’d seen more blood and chaos than most men could imagine.
We were heading to war. And I didn’t know if we’d all make it back.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that looked too much like fire. Like blood. The fields stretched out on either side of us, endless and empty, and somewhere in that emptiness was the woman I loved. The woman carrying my child. The woman I’d failed to protect.
Hold on, Brandy, I thought, my hands clenching into fists until my knuckles went white. Just hold on. I’m coming.
We crested a hill, and there it was.
The farmhouse sat in the middle of a field like a rotting tooth, its walls sagging, its roof caving in on one side. The kind of place that had been abandoned for years, left to decay and collapse under the weight of time and neglect. But it wasn’t empty now. Not even close.
Motorcycles lined the driveway—at least a dozen, maybe more.
Death Dogs’ patches gleaming in the fading light.
Men scattered around the perimeter, some leaning against bikes, some standing in clusters, all of them armed.
I could see the bulges of weapons under their cuts, the glint of metal in their hands.
They weren’t trying to hide. They were waiting. Expecting us.
This was a trap. Stone had set it, baited it with Brandy, and now we were walking right into it.
I didn’t care.
My vision narrowed, tunneling down to that farmhouse.
To the door. To the windows. To every possible entry point.
I could feel the rage building in my chest, hot and vicious, demanding action.
Demanding blood. I wanted Mercy to gun the engine, charge down that hill, and tear through every single one of those fuckers until we found her.
Until we got her out. Until we made Stone pay for every bruise, every cut, every second of terror he’d inflicted on her.
My hand moved toward the gun holstered at my side, my body already shifting forward, ready to move—
Mercy’s hand clamped down on my arm like a vise.
“Don’t.” His voice was low, steady, controlled. The voice of a man who’d talked brothers down from the edge more times than I could count. “Not like this.”
I wanted to shake him off. Wanted to punch through the SUV and charge that farmhouse and kill everyone inside. But before I could move, Hex was there, his bike pulling up beside us, his eyes locked on the farmhouse below.
“My girl dies if you rush in blind,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. Clinical. Like he was discussing the weather instead of my woman’s life.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Brandy. My Brandy. Bleeding and broken and waiting for me to save her. And if I went in guns blazing, if I let the rage take over, Stone Ward would execute her before I made it through the door.
I forced myself to stop. To breathe. To think.
We were outnumbered at least three to one.
Maybe more if there were Death Dogs inside the farmhouse we couldn’t see.
Stone was expecting us—that was the whole point, the whole trap.
He wanted Hex to come charging in, wanted to draw him out into the open so he could finish what he’d started over thirty years ago. And Brandy was the bait.
My hands were shaking. My entire body was vibrating with the need to act, to move, to do something. Hex sat on his bike beside the SUV, his presence grounding me beneath the weight pressing down on my chest.
“We get the numbers,” he said quietly, his eyes still on the farmhouse. “We get the plan. Then we get her out.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to scream that we didn’t have time for numbers or plans or any of the tactical bullshit that would take precious minutes we didn’t have. But I knew he was right. I knew that rushing in would get Brandy killed. Would get our baby killed. Would get all of us killed.
So I forced myself to nod. Forced myself to pull back from the edge. Forced myself to think like a therapist instead of a man in love.
Mercy was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. “We need bodies,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “Now.”
He dialed, and I watched as he put the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to pick up. The seconds stretched out, each one feeling like an hour. Finally, someone answered.
“Montana,” Mercy said, his voice clipped and professional. “We’ve got a situation. Connecticut border. Abandoned farm. Death Dogs have Brandy. We need bodies. As many as you can send.”
I couldn’t hear Montana’s response, but I saw Mercy’s jaw tighten, saw the way his eyes flicked to me and then back to the farmhouse. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s that bad. Stone has her. He’s using her to draw out Hex.”
Another pause. Then Mercy nodded. “Understood. How long?”
He listened, then pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at me. “Forty-five minutes. Maybe an hour. Montana said we were in luck. The Alabama Chapter showed up yesterday for the vote. Montana is sending everyone.”
Forty-five minutes.
Forty-five minutes felt like an eternity when your woman was in danger. When your baby was in danger. When every second that passed was another second Stone could be hurting her, breaking her, destroying everything that mattered.
But it was what we had. So I nodded, swallowing the rage and the fear and the desperate need to act.
Hex dismounted and pulled a pair of binoculars from his saddlebag.
He moved to the edge of the ridge, crouching low, and trained them on the farmhouse below.
Smokey and Dutch followed, positioning themselves on either side, their eyes scanning the perimeter, cataloging every Death Dog, every weapon, every weak point.
I watched them work, these men who’d lived this life for decades.
Who’d fought wars and survived betrayals and come out the other side harder and sharper and more dangerous than before.
Hex was a warrior. I could see it in the way he moved, the way he held himself, the way his hand rested on the rifle slung across his back.
He’d done this before. And he was ready to do it again.
For Brandy. For his daughter.
I stepped out of the SUV and moved to stand beside him, my eyes on the farmhouse. On the door. On the windows. On every shadow that moved inside.
Brandy, hold on. We’re coming.
Mercy’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. “The Soulless Sinners are riding.” He looked up at us, his expression grim. “ETA forty-five minutes.”
Forty-five minutes. I closed my eyes and thought about Brandy.
About the sound of our baby’s heartbeat during the ultrasound—fast and strong and impossibly real.
About the taste of her kiss. About the way she’d looked at me when she realized I truly wanted the baby.
Wanted her. About the way she’d felt in my arms, her body pressed against mine, her breath hot against my neck.
“I’m coming for you, baby,” I whispered, the words barely audible even to myself. “Just hold on. Just stay alive. I’m coming.”
Hex lowered the binoculars and turned to look at me.
For a long moment, we just stared at each other—father and...
whatever the hell I was to him. The man who’d gotten his daughter pregnant.
The man who’d dragged her into this nightmare.
The man who loved her more than he’d ever loved anything in his life.
“She’s strong,” Hex said quietly. “Stronger than you think. She’ll survive this.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him. But I’d seen what men like Stone were capable of. I knew the violence and the cruelty and the absolute lack of mercy that defined men like him.
“We need a plan,” Mercy said, moving to join us. “How many Death Dogs are we looking at?”
Hex raised the binoculars again, scanning the perimeter. “Twelve outside. Maybe more inside. Hard to tell.”
“Firepower?” Smokey asked, his voice gravelly and rough.
“Handguns, rifles. At least two shotguns I can see.” Hex lowered the binoculars and looked at Smokey. “They’re not trying to hide. They want us to see them.”
“Because they’re expecting us,” Dutch said, his eyes narrowed. “Stone wants you to come charging in. Wants to finish what Titan started.”
“Then we don’t give him what he wants,” Mercy said. “We wait for reinforcements. We coordinate. We hit them from multiple angles.”
“What about Brandy?” I demanded, my voice harsher than I intended. “What if we don’t have time to wait? What if he’s—”
“He won’t kill her,” Hex said, cutting me off. “Not yet. She’s his leverage. His bait. He needs her alive to draw me out.”
The words should have been comforting. Should have eased the terror clawing at my chest. But they didn’t. Because alive didn’t mean safe. Alive didn’t mean unharmed. Alive just meant she was still breathing while Stone did God knew what to her.
Hex must have seen something in my expression, because his hand landed on my shoulder, heavy and grounding. “We get her out,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what it takes. We get her out.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, and turned my attention back to the farmhouse.
To the planning. To the strategy. Hex, Mercy, Smokey, and Dutch began talking through the details—entry points, escape routes, how to divide the forces when they arrived.
How many Death Dogs were inside versus outside.
Where Brandy was most likely being held.
Whether she could run if we gave her an opening.
Too many unknowns. Too many ways this could go wrong. But there was no choice. We were committed now.
I closed my eyes and thought about Brandy again.
About the way she’d smiled at me in Diamond Creek, that first night we’d been together.
About the way she’d looked at me in her childhood bedroom, her eyes wide and vulnerable and full of something I hadn’t been able to name.
About the way she’d felt in my arms, her body trembling, her breath catching, her heart pounding against mine.
I love you, I thought, the words echoing through my mind like a prayer. I love you, and I’m coming for you, and I’m going to get you out of there. I swear to God, Brandy, I’m going to get you out.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness began to settle over the fields.
The farmhouse lights flickered on—dim, yellow, casting long shadows across the ground.
I could see movement inside now, shapes passing by the windows, and I wondered if one of them was her.
If she was looking out, hoping someone would come. Hoping I would come.
“We’re going to get her out,” Mercy said quietly, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “Brandy is alive, and she’s waiting for us.”
I looked at him, and for the first time since we’d arrived, I felt something other than rage and fear. I felt resolve. Cold, hard, unshakable resolve.
“And we’re going to get her out,” Mercy continued, his eyes locked on mine. “But we do it right, or we don’t do it at all.”
I nodded, my jaw clenched, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Then let’s do it right.”
Hex raised the binoculars again, his eyes scanning the farmhouse one more time. “When the others get here,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “we move fast. We hit them hard. And we don’t stop until Brandy is out and Stone is dead.”
I felt a grim smile tug at the corner of my mouth. “Sounds like a plan.”
The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. But I stayed focused. Stayed calm. Stayed ready. Because Brandy was in there, waiting for me. And I wasn’t going to let her down.
Not this time.
Not ever again.