Page 10 of Sinner's Fury

“I know. That’s why I won’t tell you where she is until you pull me out. Besides, she wants nothing to do with them, theSociety, the legacy or the clubs. She wants to live in peace.”

“You still don’t get it,” he roared, heading for the back door. “She is theSocietynow. With Sienna dead, Charlotte inherits everything. If they find her before we do, they will kill her. I need to talk with the others and come up with a game plan. In the meantime, do your fucking job and find your objective, fast. Beat the truth out of that fucker if you have to. Just find out what he did with Thena!”

“What about me?” I asked when he opened the back door, disappearing into the shadows.

Running after him, I burst out into the narrow alley behind the diner, the smell of grease and stale coffee heavy in the air and yelled into the inky blackness.

“What about Carly?”

“Figure it out before Maxwell learns the truth!”

Hanging my head, I cursed.

I was screwed.

There was no way out for me.

I knew that now.

With limited options available to me, I had no choice but to continue along my chosen path, offering a silent prayer for my survival in the midst of the chaos and destruction. Heading down the graffiti-covered, dimly lit alley, the musty smell of damp garbage hung heavy in the air as I walked toward my bike and got on. Strapping on my helmet, the weight of my actions manifested as a dull ache behind my eyes and my mind raced with the implications of what I had done. Mainly, I tried to figure out the best outcome.

Knowing there wasn’t one, I started my bike and headed back to the clubhouse. Aware that my time was running out, I planned to bring everyone down with me if things went south.

I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

I didn’t ask for this shit. Never even wanted to be a part of it, but thanks to my fucking biological father, I was born into a war not of my making.

All because no one knew who the guilty party was.

The truth would eventually come out, and when it did, it would shake up the underworld. More importantly, the revelation would permanently alter two clubs. Time wasn’t on my side, that was for sure, but I knew when all was said and done, the old way of doing things would be over when a new president emerged, heralding the Biker Federation into the new world.

Pulling into the compound, I shut off my bike and headed inside.

The clubhouse was quiet for a change. I made my way to my office and looked around to make sure I was alone. I knew I was, except for George and the Retirement Rejects in the mailroom.

Closing my door, I hurried over to my desk and sat.

Reaching for the small switchblade I kept at my hip, I flicked my wrist. The satisfyingsnickof the blade opening echoed in the sudden silence. Placing my left arm on my desk, I inhaled deeply, preparing myself before slicing into my skin with precision. Ignoring the burning sting, I laid my blood-slick blade on the cool, polished desk, then squeezed the deep cut with my other hand, until a small, rectangular SIM card slipped out from under my skin.

Over the years, my job was to gather intel on every club member, while ensuring that George Stone kept his fucking promise and played by the rules. Since my time with the Soulless Sinners, I discovered George had never listened, confirming my fears.

That motherfucker did what he wanted and didn’t give a flying fuck who got caught in the crosshairs. Since then, I spent my every waking minute trying to piece together what the fucktard and his friends were up to. It was exhausting, and I, for one, couldn’t wait until someone put a bullet between his eyes. In my opinion, whoever that person was would be doing the world a favor.

Wiping off the SIM card as best I could, I turned toward my computer and slipped the small card into a mobile disc drive I had. Wasting no time, I transferred the SIM card’s contents to the club’s mainframe and smiled, knowing that soon, the ghost file I uploaded would create a chain reaction that even George couldn’t stop.

The worn leather of my chair creaked while I leaned back, the glow of the computer screen fading when I logged off, only to be replaced by the distant, muffled thud of gunshots echoing from the mailroom. Fingers flying, I frantically logged back into the system. The mailroom’s security footage revealed a chilling scene as George Stone’s body lay utterly still, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. Turning toward the door, I watched Layla Valentinetti walk past.

I had a choice to make.

Either erase the file I just uploaded or go after the woman.

It was a no brainer. With George dead or quickly dying, I knew my secret was safe and I could continue on with the original plan. But to do that, I needed to make sure Layla got away scot-free, then erase the file I just uploaded.

I couldn’t have Montana or the club going after her and starting a war they wouldn’t win.

Reaching for my gun, I snuck out of my office and followed loosely behind her. Seeing her walk out the front door of the clubhouse, I hastened my pace, only to come to a dead stop when I heard someone shout.

“DROP!”

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