Page 1 of Declan

Chapter 1

Declan

The table’s loud with voices, but I’m barely hearing a word.

My head feels like someone took a steel bat to it. I’m still riding the brutal aftermath of last night. Shots, smoke, music so loud it vibrated my bones, and a woman whose name I never asked. Just another night of victory at Twisted Souls, the kind that ends with blood pumping, fists bruised, and adrenaline humming long after the final bell.

“We got a call from Brooks,” Hux says, his voice deep and steady as always. The president of Shattered Souls Cali MC, Milo Huxley, better known as Hux, leans back in his chair at the head of the table, fingers laced over his stomach, a proud smirk pulling at his mouth. “He’s grateful for everything we did for his club.”

I shift in my seat, scrubbing a hand over my face. My temples throb in time with every word spoken. Across from me, WesleyLennon, my best friend and our go-to guy for intel, sits relaxed as hell, a cigarette between his fingers, like he didn’t just help dig up federal-level secrets a few weeks ago.

“Brooks said we saved their asses,” Hux continues. “You boys should be proud.”

The Vegas chapter had been neck-deep in shit. Fed problems, internal betrayal, and the kind of war we all pray never reaches our door. But it did. Wesley pulled data out of thin air that flipped the whole situation. What he found, fuck, it shook us all. But it saved them.

That’s what we do. We handle our shit. Quietly. Efficiently. Permanently.

“Zane called,” Wesley adds, smoke curling out of his mouth as he speaks. “He wants to bring Harper out here. Show her Twisted Souls.”

Kadon Ashford, our VP, nods with approval, his knuckles dragging down his thick beard. “It’s good to keep the clubs close.”

“Damn right, it is,” Hux agrees.

Zane’s a badass, SAA like me, except he’s also Vegas royalty, nephew to their president. His girl, Harper, is a whole other story. Daughter of Lou Kingsley, their biggest enemy. Forbidden love, Romeo-and-Juliet shit, MC style. It almost got him killed. Still might.

We all have our demons.

The conversation circles back to the club, Twisted Souls, our pride and chaos rolled into one.

It’s more than a bar. It’s a beast. Massive steel walls, pulsing blue light strips along every beam, casting an eerie, seductive glow. Two floors of lust, danger, and profit. The first floor’s where the public parties: a stage in the back for live bands, a bar like a fortress of chrome and booze, a dance floor packed with people losing themselves in the music and heat. VIP cubbies hug the walls, private enough for hands under dresses, mouths on skin.

The second floor? That’s where secrets live. Doors you don’t open unless you’re invited. Rooms that hold more than whispers. And a balcony view of everything below, power in perspective.

But Twisted Souls is just the cover.

The real money? The fight club. Underground. Bloody. Raw. You fight or you die. And if you lose, well, we still win. Always.

“Declan, you with us?” Hux’s voice cuts through my fog.

I blink, shake my head. “Yeah. Sorry. Hangover’s kicking my ass.”

The guys laugh. I would, too if my skull wasn’t splitting in two.

“Souls coming this weekend,” Hux says. “We’ll be packed. I want every detail locked down. Killer and the band bring in serious crowds.”

Keller Huxley, better known as Killer, is Hux’s brother and lead singer of Souls, hasn’t been around much since they blew up. Big stage. Big money. But when he’s back, it’s like old times. Women. Music. Madness.

“They’re staying in the upstairs rooms as always,” Hux adds.

“Which means groupie pussy galore,” Lex Hayes says, rubbing his hands like a damn cartoon villain.

Wesley grins. “I should give my dick a break if that’s the case.”

“Carpal tunnel’s a bitch,” I shoot back, grinning.

“Jealous?” he says, smirking.

“Jealous you jerk off more than you get laid? Not even close.”

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