Chapter 21
Roman
The Devil’s Rejects clubhouse looms before us, a place I once considered home. I cut the engine of my bike and dismount. Beside me, Gray, Dragon’s granite faced VP, does the same thing.
I’ve been avoiding this place since the morning I realized Kayla had been taken by Demon.
Been avoiding my so-called “brothers” since they refused to help me find her.
The building hasn’t changed. Looks the same as it always has.
But I feel like a stranger approaching it now.
It’s amazing how quickly things can change.
How quickly you can become something else, someone else.
“You ready for this?” Gray asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice yet. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to walk in there and burn my entire life to the ground.
My eyes drift over the clubhouse as we approach, memories washing over me like waves, each one threatening to pull me under.
My earliest memories took place inside those walls.
Learning to play pool with my father, when the table was so tall I had to stand on a beer crate to see over the edge.
Atlas teaching me to throw darts, his hand guiding mine as we aimed for the bullseye.
My eighteenth birthday party. The night I finally got my cut and felt like I’d found my place in the world.
My father helped build this club. His blood, his sweat, the last twenty years of his life are poured into these walls, into this brotherhood that was supposed to last beyond his death.
And it had. I’ve ridden with many of these men for most of my life.
I’ve trusted them with my life, been willing to die for them more times than I can count.
But because of the club, Kayla got hurt. And instead of helping me find her, they turned their backs on me. And now they’ve been terrorizing her. Because I was so goddamn blind.
I push open the door and step inside, Gray a half step behind me. The familiar smells hit me first: beer and cigarettes, leather, the underlying funk of too many men in too small a space. Then the noise: music thumping, pool balls clacking against each other, the steady hum of conversation.
It all cuts off abruptly as we’re noticed. The silence spreads, men turning to stare at us, conversations dying mid-sentence. I scan the room, taking inventory of faces, and what I see makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
Most of the old guard, the men who rode with my father when the club was founded, seem to be missing.
Ace, who taught me how to throw a punch.
Steel, who could always be relied on for his wisdom.
Wrench, who could fix anything with an engine, Guzzler who faithfully handled the clubs money for decades.
The ones who are here won’t look me in the eye, suddenly very interested in their beer bottles or the scuffed wood floor.
There are a lot of new faces, men I don’t recognize. They look rough even for bikers, with hard eyes that assess us like we’re targets rather than brothers.
The room feels wrong. Everything about it feels wrong.
I spot Atlas at his usual table in the corner, holding court like the king he thinks he is. Naomi sits beside him, her red curls gleaming in the dimly lit room. A few other club officers flank them. Men I’ve known for years, men I’ve bled with. Bled for.
I walk straight toward them, feeling every eye in the room track my progress.
“Well, look who’s decided to grace us with his presence,” Atlas says, his voice loud enough to carry through the silent room. “The prodigal son returns. And he brought a new friend.”
A ripple of laughter moves through the room, forced and uncomfortable.
“What brings you here, Viper?” Atlas continues, emphasizing my road name like it’s a joke now. “You come to beg forgiveness for turning your back on your brothers? For choosing a piece of ass over family?”
I keep my face blank, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “I’m not Viper anymore.”
“No?” Atlas raises an eyebrow. “Then what are you?”
“Just Roman,” I say. “Roman Sullivan.”
Atlas snorts. “Is that right? Well, just Roman Sullivan, if you’re here to beg forgiveness, we’ll have to think up a fitting punishment. What do you think, brothers?” He looks around the room. “What’s a fair price for a man who walked away from his brothers?”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Naomi says, her voice a sultry purr that turns my stomach. “Though Roman might enjoy them too much.”
More laughter, less forced this time. I look at her and feel nothing but revulsion. How did I not see it before? The calculation in her eyes, the manipulation in her smile? How could I have been so blind to what was right in front of me?
Without a word, I pull off my cut. The room goes quiet again as I place it on the table in front of Atlas.
“I’m not coming back,” I say, my voice steady despite the thundering of my heart. “I’m done.”
The silence in the room is absolute now, charged with disbelief and hostility. Atlas stares at the cut like it’s a snake that might bite him, then slowly raises his eyes to mine.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice is dangerously soft.
“Making a choice,” I reply.
“Choosing a bitch over your brothers?” someone calls from the crowd. I don’t turn to look, don’t want to see which of my so-called brothers it is.
“The choice is already made,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Then I lean forward, placing my palms flat on Atlas’s table, getting right in his face.
“I know the club’s been harassing Kayla.
I know you’ve been sending the women to make her life hell at work, and the men to follow her, to scare her. It stops. Today.”
A muscle twitches in Atlas’s jaw, the only sign that he’s surprised I know. “And how exactly do you plan to stop us? You just handed in your cut. You’re nothing to us now.”
“Thanks to your little wife,” he continues, raising his voice for the room, “we’ve got cops climbing all up our asses, poking their noses into our business. She needs to learn a lesson, doesn’t she, boys?”
A cheer goes up from the assembled men, and I feel a chill run down my spine. This isn’t just harassment. They’re planning something worse.
“Leave her alone,” I say, not backing down, not flinching. “Or I will burn this club to the ground.”
Atlas laughs in my face, genuinely amused. “Really? And how do you plan on doing that? You and what army?” He looks past me at Gray. “Your little friend here going to help you?”
Gray steps forward. Rather than being impressed by Atlas’s bravado, he instead looks rather bored. “You know exactly who I am, Atlas.”
“Sure do,” Atlas nods. “So answer me this: what do Dragon’s boys have to do with this traitor?”
“Kayla Sullivan is now under Dragon’s protection,” Gray says, his voice carrying easily through the now-silent room. “You will all leave her alone unless you want to start a war between our clubs.”
Atlas’s face tightens, some of his confidence slipping. “Why is the Inferno getting involved in this? What’s it to you?”
“We don’t answer to you,” Gray says flatly.
I hold up my left arm and pull back my sleeve, revealing the bandaged area on the inside of my forearm. I peel back the edge of the bandage just enough to show the fresh ink beneath — a dragon, identical to the one each Drago’s Inferno member wears.
Atlas goes deadly silent. Beside him, Naomi gasps, her face draining of color.
“You’ve gone traitor,” Atlas says, the words barely audible. “You’re riding with Dragon now?”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect Kayla,” I say. “Even if that means destroying you and your entire club with you, Atlas.”
No one in the room moves. No one speaks. It’s as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for what comes next. The tension is a living thing, coiling around all of us, squeezing tighter with each passing second.
Finally, Atlas speaks, his voice a low growl. “Get out. Get the fuck out of here.”
“Not until I have your word,” I say. “Swear to me you’ll leave Kayla alone.”
Atlas looks like he might explode, his face reddening with rage. “Fine. I swear. We’ll leave your precious little wife alone.”
“Say it like you mean it,” Gray interjects, his tone bored but his eyes sharp.
“The Devil’s Rejects will leave Kayla Sullivan alone,” Atlas grits out. “Now get the hell out of here, Roman. The only reason you’re walking out of here alive is because you’re Rock’s boy.”
Gray snorts at this, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Big words, old man.”
I hold Atlas’s gaze for a moment longer, searching for any sign that he’s lying.
Finding none, I straighten up and turn away.
Gray and I walk through the silent crowd, men parting to let us through.
No one speaks, no one moves to stop us. The tension follows us to the door, pressing against our backs like a physical force.
Outside, the cold air hits my face, a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere inside. I take a deep breath, feeling lighter than I have in days. Gray is already walking toward his bike.
“Roman!”
I turn to see Naomi bursting through the clubhouse doors, her face flushed, her red curls wild around her face. She’s rushing toward me, ignoring Gray completely.
“Looks like a true viper is incoming,” Gray mutters, but he keeps walking, giving us space.
“Are you really doing this?” Naomi demands, stopping just a foot away from me. “Are you really leaving your brothers for her?”
“It’s already done,” I say.
“Why?” Her voice cracks. “She doesn’t belong in our world, Roman. You know that. She never has. She never will.”
“Then I guess I don’t either.”
Naomi steps closer to me. “ But we can be together now,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s not too late. The Rejects are going to become something great and you can still be part of that. With me, Roman.”
I can’t help the short, harsh laugh that escapes me. “Not interested.”
Her face transforms in an instant, shock and hurt giving way to fury. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said I’m not interested, Naomi.” I meet her gaze steadily.
“I can’t believe you’re rejecting me. After everything we’ve been through together.” Her voice rises, verging on shrill.
I shrug, unmoved by her dramatics. “Believe it.”
“You’ll regret this,” she hisses, her face contorting with rage. “You’ll come crawling back when you realize what you’ve thrown away. She won’t take you back, you know. Everyone knows she’s left you.”
“Whether she takes me back or not, I’m hers.” I say, keeping my voice level, “And the only thing I regret is ever prioritizing you and the club over her.”
Something ugly crosses Naomi’s face then, a flash of something so cold and vicious that for a moment I don’t recognize her. Then she turns on her heel and stalks back toward the clubhouse, slamming the door behind her.
I stand there for a moment, watching the closed door, feeling like I’ve just caught a glimpse of the true Naomi. The one Kayla has seen this whole time. Just one more way I failed her.
“There’s something twisted in that girl,” Gray says as I approach my bike.
“I know,” I say, feeling the weight of my stupidity. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
Gray swings his leg over his bike. “We’ve bought ourselves some time, but not much. We need to find a way to get Kayla out of Redbird.”
I nod, mind already racing ahead to the next step. “She won’t listen to me. We’ll have to find some other way to convince her.”
We pull away from the clubhouse, and I don’t look back. Not at the building that was once my second home, not at the men who were once my brothers, not at the life I just walked away from. I keep my eyes forward, on the road ahead, on the future I’m fighting for.