Chapter Twelve
August
I followed Dr. Wilcox out of the room, and when the door was properly closed, I turned and hauled him up against the wall. “Listen up, you motherfucker. You will destroy her chart and forget you ever met her, got me?”
The fucker grinned. “And why would I do that, Dr. Lansing, or do you prefer Bane? Besides, she’s nothing but a club whore, and Mr. Stone pays me well to inform him when one of his club brothers fucks up, and man, did you fuck up big time.”
I felt my blood boil at the mention of George Stone and this sniveling doctor’s betrayal.
My hands tightened around Wilcox’s collar, and I pressed my face close to his.
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.
George Stone will be the least of your worries if you don’t do as I say.
” I released him with a shove, and he stumbled, a mix of fear and defiance flashing in his eyes.
Wilcox straightened his coat and smirked. “You’re in no position to make demands, Lansing. Stone has eyes and ears everywhere. He already knows about your little secret, and he’s not one to let things slide. Especially when it comes to his club.”
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off his face.
“You’re a fool if you think his protection is worth more than your career, or your life,” I growled. “I’ll give you one more chance to make the right choice. Destroy her chart, forget about her, and let us walk away. No one needs to know.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might agree.
But then he shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Sorry, Doc. Can’t do that. Stone’s my ticket to the top.
Without him, I’m just another small-time doctor.
I’d rather take my chances with him than with you.
Besides, after I tell you who was just admitted into the hospital, that whore in there is going to be the least of your worries. ”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your sister was just brought in.”
A cold jolt sliced through my anger, replaced for a moment by something sharp and panicked. My sister. The words echoed in the sterile hallway, louder than any threat Wilcox could spit. My hands fell to my sides, suddenly numb.
“That’s right, you pompous prick,” Wilcox sneered. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Your whore of a sister was left to drown in an icy river.” That fucker laughed. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky, and the same thing will happen to your bitch.”
My mind went blank. A red haze choked the rational part of my brain.
Then, a brutal, bone-jarring crack as my fist connected with Wilcox’s face—the sickening scent of his blood filling my nostrils, the vile taste blooming on my tongue.
His head snapped back, the crisp starch of his white lab coat crumpling under my grip as I hauled him from the floor.
He was a rag doll in my hands, his eyes wide and frantic in the sterile, harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.
I slammed him against the wall with the force of a battering ram; the impact echoed through the stunned silence of the hallway.
The hushed gasps of onlookers, the frightened whimpers of patients, the choked cries of nurses—all were a dull roar in my ears, a symphony of fear irrelevant to the rage that consumed me.
His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled gasp.
“You’re dead, Wilcox,” I hissed, my voice a commanding whisper of raw fury. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”
“Shit!” The word ripped through the air, a ragged scream swallowed by the sudden, suffocating weight of arms around me.
They yanked me back, a brutal tug from the precipice of witnessing that.
.. thing... that coward slither away. Rage, raw and burning, consumed me.
I wrestled free, the man’s grip loosening under the force of my fury.
My gaze snagged on the rat, a smirk twisting his lips as he melted into the shadows.
He was gone, but the image of his smug face, etched in the grim light, would sear itself onto my soul.
My intern, Shame—a man with eyes too old for his face, haunted by secrets I knew nothing of—stood there, trembling, like a bird caught in a hawk’s shadow.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” My voice was a growl, rough with the grit of barely contained violence.
“I saw them, Bane. They’re all here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the frantic pounding of my own heart.
“What the goddamn hell are you talking about?” The question clawed its way out, leaving a bitter taste coating my tongue.
“The club, Bane. George, the board... everyone.” His breath hitched.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about the club,” I snarled, icy fury radiating off me in waves. Turning, I started back toward the room, toward Diana—the scent of her perfume, usually a balm, now a sharp, desperate reminder of the danger.
A hand, like a vise, clamped down on my arm. Shame’s grip was surprisingly strong, his fear palpable.
“August,” he hissed my name like a desperate prayer.
“Listen to me. Get Diana out. Now. If George sees you with her... he’ll fucking destroy you both.
” The desperation in his voice, coupled with the stark terror etched on his face, was more terrifying than any threat from George himself.
This wasn’t just about club business; this was about survival.
And suddenly, the chill that had settled on my skin was no longer just anger—it was ice-cold fear.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He knows she was admitted,” my intern said firmly, standing his ground. “That sick fucker called him. He’s on George’s payroll.”
Shame’s words hit me like a physical blow.
I knew George Stone’s reach was long, but the realization that my intern was more level-headed than I was in that moment sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through me.
I cursed under my breath, my mind racing. I knew Diana and I were living on borrowed time. I just thought we’d have more than a few months together.
“Okay,” I said, making a decision. “Give me fifteen minutes. Tell George I need to speak to him privately. Buy me some time. Then meet me out front.”
Shame nodded, his face set in a determined expression. He turned and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the linoleum floor.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to do next.
Diana was my responsibility, and I would get her out of here and to safety, no matter the cost. As I pushed open the door to Diana’s room, my heart hammered in my chest. The sight of her, pale and vulnerable in the hospital bed, sent a stab of protectiveness through me.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and fearful, and I forced a reassuring smile.
“Baby, I need to get you out of here,” I said, my voice gentle. “But we have to move quickly. Can you walk?”
She nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I think so,” she said, her voice weak but determined.
I helped her to her feet, my hand supporting her elbow. As we made our way slowly toward the door, I kept a careful eye on the hallway, alert for any sign of George Stone or my club brothers. “What about Dr. Wilcox?” Diana asked, her voice laced with worry.
“He won’t be a problem,” I said, my jaw clenched. “But we have to move.”
“You know.”
Cupping her face, I quickly kissed her, resting my forehead against hers.
“I knew the second I saw your tattoo, baby. Your family is well known in the Biker Federation. There is so much we have to talk about, but not right now. I don’t care who you are, baby.
I love you. You’re mine now, and so is our son. Fuck everyone else.”
I guided Diana through the maze of hallways, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew we didn’t have much time before George and my club brothers would be on us.
Shame could hold them off for only so long.
Every step felt like an eternity, each corner we turned a potential ambush.
I kept a firm grip on Diana’s elbow, ready to pull her back and protect her at any sign of danger.
“August, wait,” Diana whispered, her eyes darting around anxiously. “What about my father? He’ll come after you. He’ll never let me go without a fight.”
I paused, my hand tightening on the door handle. “Your father will be the least of my worries if I don’t get you out of here now,” I said through gritted teeth. “My club has eyes and ears everywhere. You’re not safe here.”
She bit her lip, her fear warring with her determination. “I know, but he’s not going to just let me walk away. He’ll hunt us down.”
I pulled her close, my eyes burning into hers. “Then you’ll run. You’ll disappear where he can never find you. But first, I need to get you out of this hospital.”
The exit loomed ahead, a beacon of hope in the dim hallway.
I could almost taste the freedom that awaited us beyond those doors.
But as we approached, a familiar figure stepped into our path.
It was Shame, his eyes wild with panic. “Bane, they’re coming.
Wilcox went straight to George. He’s on his way with the others. We have to go now!”
I cursed under my breath, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun at my waist. “Take Diana and get out of here. I don’t care where you take her; just get her the hell out of here. I’ll hold them off,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear in my eyes.
It was the only way. The only chance was to split up.
“I know of a place they will never find her.”
Shoving Diana toward Shame, I yelled, “Go now! Meet me at the clubhouse when she’s safe.”
“What about Montana?” Shame asked.
“I’ll take care of Montana.”
Walking back into the hospital, I passed the nurses’ station and grabbed a chart.
Opening it, I pretended to read it when I spotted George and a few others marching my way.
Making a quick note in the chart, I turned to the nurse, handing her the chart and saying, “Schedule the patient in Room 2B for an MRI and additional blood work.”
“Yes, Dr. Lansing.” The woman nodded.
“And make sure she gets fresh bandages.”
“Right away, Doctor.”
The second the nurse walked away, I turned and smiled. “Hey, Prez. What brings you by today? You didn’t have to come down to the hospital for your checkup. I could have done it at the clubhouse.”
“Cut the crap, asshole,” George sneered. “Where the fuck is that Godless whore?”
“And which whore would that be, Prez?” I smirked, standing taller, my bravado a thin veneer over the churning anxiety in my gut.
He knew I knew.
He had to know I knew.
My fear wasn’t of his fists—I expected those—but of the consequences of my words, of the carefully constructed loyalty I’d built with him shattering like cheap glass.
Loyalty born not of admiration, but of necessity; a desperate gamble to protect my family, my only remaining link to a life before this.
This life, this club, this... him.
“The one you knocked up three months ago and demanded I perform an emergency DNC, or the one you were fucking in your office last Friday when I left the clubhouse.” My words were sharp as a sword. Each syllable a betrayal, not just of the president, but of myself.
I’d sworn I’d never be a pawn in his games again, never compromise my principles. And yet here I was, using the dirt I possessed like a weapon, resorting to blackmail—a tactic as low and dirty as the man before me.
His punch landed—a brutal blow that sent me sprawling on the freshly polished floor. The pain was sharp, physical, but it was nothing compared to the shattered, fragile illusion of control I’d painstakingly crafted over the years.
I’d chosen this life, this darkness, to protect my family from the hold George had over me, but had I condemned myself to it instead? Had I become the very thing I despised?
The silence that followed the impact felt heavier than the president’s fist, a deafening weight of my own failure, of my complicity, of the terrible choice I’d made—a choice I knew I’d regret for the rest of my life.
My regret was a bitter fruit, far worse than the malice of my words.
George’s eyes narrowed, the fury in them a tangible force. “You’re a dead man, Lansing. No one talks to me like that and lives to tell the tale.”
I knew he was right. I’d just signed my death warrant, but it was a price I was willing to pay to buy Shame the time he needed to get Diana and my child to safety.
I had to ensure her safety, even if it meant sacrificing my own.
“Maybe so, Prez,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through my veins.
“But before you end me, I suggest you focus on the whores you can’t keep your dick out of and the bastard child you recently had me kill.
Seems to me, you’ve got bigger problems than me. ”
George’s face contorted with rage, his hand curling into a fist as he prepared to strike again.
“What the hell are you doing with my son?” a familiar voice rang out, cutting through the tension, and I watched George step back as he relaxed his face. “I asked you a fucking question, George Stone.”
Plastering on a fake smile, George greeted my mother. “It’s nothing, Julia. Just a simple misunderstanding.”
My mother narrowed her eyes as my dad, Albert Lansing, along with Barbara Stevens, rushed over to help me to my feet.
“My God, Auggie, are you okay?” Barb asked carefully, touching the red welt forming on my face.
“I’m fine, Barb. It doesn’t hurt,” I lied as she slowly turned toward George.
Standing to her full height, Barb marched right over to the president of the Soulless Sinners and slapped him hard across the face. “You ever touch him again, I will fucking kill you.”