Page 8 of Turmoil's Target

Not since that MC stole my father from us we’ve had a different purpose in life—avenging him.

The Reapers Rejects MC and their wannabe badass bikers destroyed everything.

Well, now it’s our turn to bring some chaos and destruction to their lives.

An eye for an eye.

There’s only one catch, we’re not just killing them.

We’re going to destroy them until their MC crumbles bit by bit, and then we’ll start the killing.

I pull open the gilded glass door, stepping into the opulent lobby with its soaring ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and polished marble floors.

The casino exudes wealth and power—exactly the image my family has carefully crafted over generations.

Power is precisely what will allow us to crush the Reapers Rejects like the cockroaches they are.

No one messes with the Bernards and gets away with it.

They have no idea the hell that’s coming for them, but they will soon enough.

I’ll make damn sure of it.

With a smile curving my red lips, I head for the elevator to meet my mother and put our next moves in motion.

The elevator whisks me up to the penthouse level in mere seconds.

I stride down the hallway, my Louboutin sinking into the plush carpet, and rap my knuckles against the door to my mother’s suite.

She opens it immediately, pulling me into a fierce hug.

The scent of her Chanel No. 5 perfume envelops me.

“Seraphina, darling, it’s so good to see you.” She ushers me inside the extravagant space, all sleek modern lines and pops of bold color. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Mother. Focused on our goals.” I accept the glass of cabernet she hands me and we settle onto the leather sofa, a charcuterie board laid out on the coffee table before us.

Thinly sliced prosciutto, wedges of aged cheeses, plump olives, and figs.

All of my favorite indulgences.

“Good, good. That’s what I like to hear.” She selects a cube of manchego, popping it into her mouth. “Now, tell me everything. How have our efforts impacted those lowlife bikers so far?” Her slate gray eyes, so like my own, gleam with anticipation.

I take a sip of the bold, full-bodied wine, savoring the rich notes of dark cherry and smoke on my tongue. “My sources tell me the Reapers Rejects have been struggling to keep their brothel afloat lately. Bad Bunnies has definitely seen a significant drop in clientele and profits.”

“Excellent. Hitting them where it hurts—their wallets.” A slow smile spreads across her face, but there’s no warmth in it. Only vicious satisfaction. “We’ll bleed those bastards dry, just like they did to your father.”

Damon.

The biker Prez had mistaken my dad for his identical twin brother in a blind fit of determination to kill Rage.

He killed him in cold blood, stealing a husband from my mother.

Stealing a father from me.

The pain still sears like a hot blade.

No one will ever understand what it’s like to be waiting for your father to come home, and then suddenly he never walks back in through that door.

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