Page 22 of Hellraiser

With those final three words, I watched my father take his last breath in my arms. I howled out in pain, my heart shattering in ways I didn’t know were possible. It had always been hard for me to shed a tear, but I couldn’t do anything except cry like a newborn baby, my sobs wracking my tired body.

The Savages drove toward the clubhouse in silence, feeling the weight of our unimaginable grief tear through us like a tornado. After I helped lift my father’s still body out of the back seat, I suddenly remembered something. I reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a flash drive. It was the video evidence I’d promised Mercy—surveillance proof of the Outlaws’ involvement in illegally trafficking women. I shoved it into my pocket, vowing to honor my father’s legacy, lead the club, and make things right with Mercy.

Left.Right.

Left. Right.

I paced back and forth in Dre’s room for over an hour, my anxiety gnawing at my insides. The armed prospect stationed outside the door only added to my frustration. He wouldn’t open the door, and he wouldn’t tell me shit every time I begged for updates. The silence was agonizing.

Suddenly, I heard the rumbling of motorcycles in the distance. My heart tried to beat its way through my ribcage. Moments later, Dre burst through the door, bloody and beaten. I gasped, rushing straight to his side.

“Dre! Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he answered with a grunt, hand never leaving his ribs.

“You don’t look it,” I said, noting the pained expression on his bloodied face and bloodstains on his ripped clothes.

The club’s medic, Doc, immediately rushed in with his medical supplies to tend to Dre’s wounds—lacerations and bruised ribs. I remained close, holding his hand while Doc bandaged him and administered pain medication for comfort. My eyes never left his battered face.

“What happened, Dre? What did they do to you?”

He took a deep breath, quickly wincing from the pain before he recounted the ambush, the beatings, and the brawl that popped off when the Hell’s Savages came to rescue him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. But—where’s your father?”

He looked down, his voice growing quieter. “My father… he didn’t make it, Mercy. He’s dead.”

My heart broke for him as tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, unsure of what else to do. If I had the power to bring his father back, I would’ve.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Dre.” I looked at him, noticing the absence of tears in his eyes. “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

His voice was hoarse, filled with raw emotion. “I already did. I cried like a baby when he died in my arms. Now, I have to stay strong.”

Reaching into his pocket, Dre pulled out a flash drive and handed it to me. “Here. This is the video evidence I promised you—proof of the Outlaws’ sex trafficking. You need to leave while you can, Mercy. Cannon isn’t dead, and I can’t risk him coming after you. I’ll have one of the prospects follow you wherever you need to go. I’ll give you money, whatever you need.”

I swung my head firmly. I refused to let him push me away.

“No, Dre. I’m staying right here with you. You’re all I want.”

Dre looked at me before pulling me close. He held me tight, and I knew we could face whatever came next together.

“I’m sorry for storming out on you the way I did. I was just caught up in my feelings for you, both good and bad. Still, I never should’ve left you, especially not without telling you how I feel about you. I’ve been holding back for fear of not wanting to scare you off, but if life has taught me anything today, it’s the cruel lesson that time waits for no one. And I don’t want to let another second go by without telling you how much I love you, Mercy Harris.”

“I didn’t think it would feel that good to hear you say that.”

“Well, believe it, because it’s the truth.”

I leaned into him and gently pecked his lips before I whispered, “I love you too.”

After hours of pouring through the videos and the intense work on my article, I finally submitted it to Mr. Charles, along with the video proof Dre had given me. The videos on the flash drive were damning—showing the faces, locations, and transactions of the Chicago Outlaws MC trafficking women. There was footage of them transporting terrified young girls in the back of trucks swarmed with motorcycles and handing them over to shady figures for money. Everything had been captured secretly by Dre and a few members of the Hell’s Savages working on a secret task at the order of his father. It was undeniable and would surely blow the lid off the Outlaws’ criminal operations.

Meeting my deadlineandsaving my job lifted a massive weight off my shoulders. Feeling exhausted but accomplished, I stepped out of the shower. The warm water washed away the stress of the day. I wrapped a towel around my dripping wetbody and proceeded into the bedroom. It was after four in the morning when I crept over to my side of his bed and dropped my towel. I fully expected him to be asleep.

However, when I crawled into bed, I saw his eyes open, watching me intently.

“Did you finish your article?” he asked, voice groggy.

I nodded. “Yeah. I did. It’s submitted, videos and all.”

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