Page 18 of Savage Loyalty

The guys were looking to me, even if they didn’t say it outright. They needed me to hold it together, to come up with a plan, to make sure we didn’t lose any more ground—or any more men.

But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Ghost.

I could hear his laugh, that easy, confident sound that had filled the clubhouse more times than I could count. I could see the way his face lit up when he’d first been handed his patch, the way he’d worn it with pride like it was the greatest thing he’d ever earned.

And I could feel the weight of his loss pressing down on me like a vice.

I should’ve seen it coming.

I should’ve known Axel Cruz wouldn’t let his father’s death go unanswered. I should’ve known the depot was a risk. I should’ve known better.

But I hadn’t.

And now they were dead.

I let out a slow breath, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me like a second skin. The guilt. The anger. The sense of failure that gnawed at the edges of my mind.

But I couldn’t let it consume me. Not now.

Because as much as it hurt, as much as I wanted to drown in the weight of it, there was no time for that.

Ghost was gone, and nothing I did would bring him back.

But I could make sure his death wasn’t for nothing.

I could make sure Axel Cruz and the Vipers paid for what they’d done.

Because that was the other rule of this life: when someone took from you, you took back twice as much.

So I’d carry the guilt. I’d carry the weight of my mistakes and the responsibility of my choices. And I’d use it to fuel the fire burning in my chest, the fire that wouldn’t go out until the Vipers were ashes at my feet.

I couldn’t bring any of them ack. But I could make damn sure their deaths weren’t the last word.

CHAPTER SIX

DELILAH’S PO

When I woke up, the house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that seeped into your bones and refused to let go. For a fleeting moment, I forgot where I was and everything that had happened. The grief, the tension, the weight of the funeral—they were shadows lingering just outside my consciousness.

But reality came crashing back the moment I opened my eyes.

The bedroom hadn’t changed since I was a teenager. The same faded wallpaper, the same creaky bed frame, and the same window that overlooked the backyard. Even the faint scent of my father’s cigars seemed to linger, woven into the very fabric of the house.

This house wasn’t mine. It was still my father’s—our father’s, I supposed, though Axel had hardly set foot in it since taking over the Vipers. It felt wrong to call it mine like the place itself would reject the claim.

The funeral was over, but its shadow hung heavy in the air. The night had been a blur of tense stares, whispered conversations, and the oppressive weight of grief pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

I hadn’t expected to sleep, but exhaustion had won out in the end. Even so, it hadn’t been restful. My dreams had been filled with flashes of the night before: the mournful crowd at the funeral, the crackling tension among the Vipers, and Ryder Kane’s cold, calculating gaze as he spoke his veiled threats. His voice still echoed in my mind, sharp and deliberate, leaving an unease that no amount of daylight could erase.

Now, as I sat up and stretched, the sunlight streaming through the window did little to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones. The house felt different—emptier somehow. My father’s absence was a gaping hole, the kind that couldn’t be filled no matter how many people surrounded me.

* * *

I worked, the silence pressed in around me, broken only by the clink of bottles and the rustle of trash bags. The monotony of it was almost meditative, allowing my mind to wander despite my best efforts to keep it grounded.

I thought about my father. About the larger-than-life presence, he’d been. Javier Cruz hadn’t just been a man—he’d been a force of nature. The kind of person who filled every room he entered and left a mark on everyone he encountered.

And now he was gone.

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