Page 11 of Fear

Goliath’s grip on the handlebars was unrelenting, his muscles tense. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the fury rolling off him in waves. But there was something else beneath the rage—something hotter, something darker.

When they pulled into the clubhouse lot, he parked with a sharp jerk and was off the bike before she could even process it. He turned, reaching for her—his hands firm as he helped her off.

Then, without a word, without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and strode away, his shoulders rigid, his fists clenched.

Sofia stood there, staring after him, confusion twisting in her chest. What the hell had just happened?"

Chapter 5

The message came at noon. The Shadow Riders wanted a meeting.

King called church immediately. Every patched member filled the room, the air thick with tension and rage as King relayed the message.

"They want to talk," King said, his voice edged with scepticism. "Reaper reached out. Says they want to settle things."

A scoff came from the end of the table. "Settle things?" Fang sneered. "That means they want to talk us into giving up Sofia. Not fucking happening."

Goliath’s jaw ticked; his arms crossed over his broad chest. "We go," he said, his voice low and lethal. "We listen, but we don’t give an inch. If they think they can take her, they’re dead wrong."

King nodded. "That’s what I figured. Mount up. We ride out in twenty."

The meeting took place at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. Wolverine MC rolled in, engines growling like thunder, a silent promise of war. Goliath dismounted his bike, his golden eyes locking onto Reaper, the Shadow Riders’ President, who stood in front of a line of his men.

Grant wasn’t there. Good. Goliath would have ripped his fucking throat out if he was.

Reaper exhaled a cloud of smoke, his lips curling as the Wolverines approached. Reaper was an imposing figure—tall, lean but with a wiry strength that made him unpredictable in a fight. His face was gaunt, sharp cheekbones accentuating his hollowed-out eyes, a cruel smirk permanently etched onto his lips. Long, greying hair hung past his shoulders, tied back loosely, giving him an almost spectral appearance. Tattoos crawled up his neck and down his arms—each one a story of violence, of bloodshed. Unlike most club presidents who carried themselves with controlled authority, Reaper thrived on chaos. He was unpredictable, known for making moves that made no sense until it was too late.

No one really knew how old he was. Some said he had been leading the Shadow Riders for decades, others whispered that he had taken the presidency in a bloodbath so violent that even his own men feared him. What was certain was that he had no morals, no honour—just power and the will to wield it however he saw fit. If Grant was cruel, Reaper was something worse. He was a man with nothing to lose, and that made him more dangerous than anyone.

"I’ll make this short," he said, voice dripping with arrogance. "We want the girl."

A growl rumbled in Goliath’s chest. He took a step forward, but King held up a hand, keeping the situation from turning into an all-out bloodbath.

"Not happening," King said coldly. "She’s under our protection. That means she’s off-limits."

Reaper sighed, shaking his head. "Look, King. I respect you. But you know how this works. The girl belongs to us. She’s got unfinished business with Grant, and we’re here to collect. We’re not walking away empty-handed."

Goliath clenched his fists, barely holding himself back. "Then you don’t fucking walk away at all."

Reaper’s men tensed, hands inching toward their weapons.

King remained unshaken. "You come near Sofia again, and we will consider it an act of war. You know how that ends."

Reaper stared at him for a long moment before chuckling darkly. "Fine. Have it your way. But you’re making a mistake. We’ll be seeing each other real soon."

With that, the Shadow Riders mounted their bikes and rode off, leaving behind a promise of violence in their wake.

King exhaled. "This isn’t over."

Goliath’s wolf snarled inside him. No. It was just beginning.

Back at the clubhouse, the air was charged. The men were tense, restless after the meeting.

As soon as they stepped inside, King barked the order. "Lockdown. Until this business with the Shadow Riders is done, no one leaves the compound without approval. We double up security on the perimeter, and every patched member keeps a weapon within reach."

A ripple of agreement went through the room. The Wolverines weren’t afraid of a fight, but they weren’t stupid either. They knew the Shadow Riders weren’t done, and when they came back, it wouldn’t be for words.

Goliath barely heard the conversation around him. His head was still pounding with frustration, his hands itching to do something. The moment he caught sight of Sofia on the back porch, everything else faded into the background.

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