Chapter Forty-Four
Diana
Sinclair’s words hung between us, heavy and suffocating.
August gripped my shoulders, his hands trembling—not with rage this time, but with the hollow ache of his family’s revelation.
I wanted to say something, anything, yet all I could do was stand in the cavernous silence that Sinclair had left behind.
The room felt colder, and the shadows deeper.
I tried to catch August’s gaze, to give him something—some piece of comfort amid the ruins. But he was lost, swimming in new, cruel memories. Sinclair’s confession had carved fresh wounds, and I could do nothing to mend them.
The trip back to the clubhouse was a quiet one as August grappled with what Sinclair had told him.
There was still much more I needed to say myself, but like August, I wasn’t in the mood for more revelations.
What I needed to say could wait, because when I told him the rest, I was going to need all my strength.
The second we entered the clubhouse, Montana bombarded August with questions. “Well? What did he say? Did he give anything away? Does he know where they went? Come on, man, give me something.”
Instead, August just looked at Montana, then turned and walked toward the bar, leaving me standing there with the person who shared the face of the man who made my life a living hell. Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fist tightly, my nails digging into my skin, and whispered, “Leave him alone.”
Club brothers that escorted us to and from the hospital stopped dead in their tracks as Largo rushed to my side and quickly said, “Now is not a good time, Montana.”
“It’s never a good time, Largo. The club is at war, and I need to know what Sinclair said,” the angry man clipped before walking over to where August was sitting. “What the hell happened? What did the motherfucker say?”
“Not now, Montana,” August muttered, shoulders slumped, dejected, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And I guessed in a way he did. There was so much more to the man I loved.
In a way, he was like Sinclair. The keeper of secrets.
Only those secrets were of his family, and he guarded them with his life.
Montana’s frustration simmered in the air, but August barely reacted.
He poured himself a whiskey, his hands steady now, as if the act itself anchored him to something solid.
I approached carefully, feeling the eyes of the room turn away in uneasy respect, and slipped onto the stool beside him.
“August,” I murmured, my voice soft, “you don’t have to—”
He cut me off with a look threaded with exhaustion and old pain. “If not now, then when, Diana?” His words weren’t unkind, just final, the kind that closed doors for the night. Twirling the glass in his hands, he admitted, “Sinclair knows the truth about my family.”
Taking the seat next to him, Montana looked confused but said nothing as he waited for August to continue.
“You’ve always been curious about my family, wondered why your father always backed down, as if afraid of them. Well, it’s because of my mother. Not Julia. Though her being a Craven made him think twice about things. But it’s because of Barb.”
“The woman who lived with you?” Montana asked.
“Lived with us?” August smirked as he brought the small glass to his lips and took a drink.
“Everything happens for a reason. That’s what Barb told me growing up.
For the longest time, I didn’t understand.
Now I do. You see, my dad came from money.
Old money. The kind of money that came with responsibilities and power.
A power your father craved. My dad wasn’t given a choice of whom to marry.
Neither was Julia, for that matter. But when you throw Barb into the mix and well, not even the Devil himself could win against them. ”
“Make sense, August,” Montana groaned, shaking his head.
“Leave him alone,” I snapped. “You don’t know what this is doing to him.”
“And you do?” Montana challenged.
“More so than you, apparently. Let him speak in his own way.”
Montana closed his mouth, and silence reigned around the gathering room as August took a sip of his drink.
Placing it back on the bar, he slowly turned and faced Montana and said, “I now know why your father went after me. Why he put Meredith in my path, blackmailed me and forced me into this club. Why he didn’t stop me from having a relationship with Diana. ”
“Why?” Montana whispered.
“Because he knew if I could get her pregnant, it would solidify his standing within the Society . He would have the power to take over the Golden Skulls, control the table and the Biker Federation, and run the Society . He would control it all.”
“There’s no way, Bane,” Mercy said, walking over. “To do that, George would have to have blood ties to each organization.”
August smirked. “Yes, he would.”
“I’m confused,” Storm muttered. “What does that have to do with Bane?”
I gasped, my eyes widening as August looked at me. The truth slammed into me hard. Shaking my head, I whispered, “No.” Slowly getting up from my seat, I backed away from the bar as all eyes turned toward me. “Not my babies.”
“Babies?” August stiffened as he turned to look at me. “What babies?”
“There were two,” I rambled, my mind swirling with the realization of exactly who our children were in the grand scheme of things. “A boy and a girl,” I muttered as I tried to assimilate everything.
My lineage, August’s lineage.
It was all there in front of us the entire time, and we never considered the ramifications.
It was impossible. They couldn’t be, because if August was right, then our children would be the most hunted and coveted people on earth.
There would be no place they could hide.
Everyone they came in contact with would use them to their own advantage.
They would never have peace, find happiness.
They would forever live in a gilded cage not of their making.
“Holy shit,” a young man gasped, as if he had just figured out the truth. “You are her, aren’t you? You are the one they’ve been looking for all these years.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Sypher?” Montana gruffly snapped. “Who’s looking for whom?”
“HER!” the man shouted, pointing his finger at me as I continued to slowly back away. “You are Diana Cooper. THE Diana Cooper. The missing daughter of the Gods of Mayhem!”
A heavy silence settled over the room, as every person turned and stared at me.
No one spoke, though I could see the battle raging within everyone—fear, disbelief, and that gnawing uncertainty of what the future would hold now that secrets were unraveling faster than anyone could contain.
Mercy reached out, steadying himself on the edge of the bar.
“Do you know the bounty your family offered for any information regarding your whereabouts?”
“Not to mention the death and destruction they caused searching for you,” Montana admitted, then sneered, “Your father and brother tore this city apart looking for you, and all along you were fucking August!”
August moved so fast, he looked like a blur when his hand connected with Montana’s jaw, knocking the son of a bitch to the floor.
“You will show my wife some fucking respect or I swear to fucking God, our friendship is over!” August roared as he stood over Montana’s prone body.
Grabbing the man’s cut, he hauled Montana close and seethed, “And remember one fucking thing, Montana. We wouldn’t even be in this fucking mess if it weren’t for your fucking father. ”
Shoving him away, August walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me as I clung to him protectively.
“If any of you have a fucking problem with my wife, say so right fucking now, because Hell will freeze over before I walk away from her again. I never wanted to join this motherfucking club, and over the years, I’ve done everything asked of me, even when it went against my morals.
I’ve covered for each and every one of you and never said a word.
You want me gone, then have the balls to tell me to my face, but you will not use my wife or my children as a bargaining chip in this war. Am I fucking clear?”
Shame walked over and stood in front of us, arms crossed over his chest. “You want a bargaining chip, then use me. My father is Samuel Peterson, former head of the Disciples of the Word and a direct descendant of one of the Original Seven of the Golden Skulls California Chapter. My mother was a former mistress of Sergio Pavlov, head of the West Coast Bratva. I’m also a sleeper, with ties and connections to several underground organizations.
So you want to use someone, then use me. ”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Montana groaned, getting to his feet as he rubbed his cheek. “Anyone else want to spew more secrets? ’Cause now is the fucking time to do it.”
“I’m pregnant,” Largo piped up, grinning from ear to ear as Mercy stiffened.
“Really?”
Largo nodded as Mercy picked her up and twirled her around.
Montana rolled his eyes. “Not what I had in mind, Largo, but congrats to you both.” Sighing, the president of the Soulless Sinners walked over and looked at me and August. “Contrary to both your beliefs, I may look like my father, but I am not him. I don’t trade family or friends for personal gain.
As for you,” he said, turning to Shame. “I will deal with you later. In the meantime, I think we all need a break, and I need a stiff drink. Silver, screw the glass. Hand me a bottle.”
I stood there as the brothers dispersed, while others stayed to congratulate Mercy and Largo. While I was very happy for the young couple, I needed to tell August about our own children and what happened.
“Take a ride with me?”
I looked up at August and nodded. “Where?”
“I want to show you something.”