Page 15 of Reaper

A groan tears from deep inside me as I give in, letting my mind reel back to a time when things were simpler, rawer. When she was mine and I was hers in every carnal sense. I remember the wild abandon in her eyes, the way she clawed at my back, urging me deeper.

The fantasy takes hold, vivid and unrelenting. Her moans fill my ears, not echoes of the past but cries of pleasure as if she were here, now, writhing beneath me. My hand moves in rhythm with the memory, each stroke a bitter reminder of what I’ve lost and of what I crave.

“Lexi …” I grunt her name like a curse, a prayer, a plea. My body tenses, every muscle strung as tight as guitar strings about to snap. The pressure builds to an unbearable pitch until, suddenly, like a gunshot echoing in my skull, release rips through me. I spill into my clenched fist, the relief sharp and fleeting.

The aftermath leaves me gasping. Her name still whispers across my lips. Sweat beads on my brow, my chest heaves, and for a moment, I’m lost in the aftershocks, clinging to the fragments of pleasure before they slip away.

Then reality drags me back into the cold and unforgiving present. I’m alone. The rush is gone, replaced by a gnawing emptiness that settles in my bones. In the quiet that follows, I’m left with nothing but questions and the relentless throb of a wound seven years old.

The sheets are twisted, knotted around my legs like the unanswered questions tangling in my skull. I’m supposed to be numb after the release, but instead, there’s this restlessness clawing up from within, unquiet as a storm on the horizon. I turn over and punch the pillow, but it’s no use. Sleep isn’t coming to claim me tonight.

I’ve always had instincts sharper than a shiv. They’ve kept me alive more times than I can count, and right now, they’re screaming that Lexi’s sudden appearance at Blackstone’s ranch isn’t a random twist of fate. There’s got to be a damn reason she’s here, under my nose, stirring up things better left buried.

“Who tried to ice you, Lexi?” I mutter into the darkness.

My gut churns with the need to protect her, even though I swore off being anyone’s hero a long time ago. But someone marked her, and iteats at me. Who wants her dead, and why?

I throw the covers off and sit up. My mind races with possibilities. For seven years, she’s been gone. She vanished without a trace. She never said goodbye. She never gave me an explanation. And now, seeing her again is like ripping open a sealed wound. Fresh blood, fresh pain.

“Lexi.” I say her name like it’s a key, like maybe if I say it enough, it’ll unlock all her secrets. She’s lying. I can feel it in my bones. Not about everything, maybe, but there’s something she’s holding back, something dark and heavy. And I need to know what it is. Because it’s not just about her anymore—it’s about us, about the club. Weakness can get you killed, and secrets are the deadliest weakness of all.

I stand, pacing the small confines of the room, feeling caged. The need to confront her is overwhelming. I want answers, yeah, but there’s more to it than that. I’m enslaved by the pull of my attraction to her. After she left, I compared every other woman against Lexi. I never managed to shake the feeling that no one could ever measure up to her. But then again, I wasn’t really looking for anyone. That wasn’t part of the plan. Lexi’s never been someone I could hold onto, but I never expected to miss her as much as I did. That shocked the fuck out of me.

I glance at the clock. It’s late—or early, depending on how you look at it—and theclubhouse is silent. Everyone else is lost to their own dreams or demons. Me, I’m stuck in limbo, caught between past and present, truth and lies.

Suddenly, the crack of gunfire shatters the night. The staccato rhythm of bullets being fired jerks me out of my brooding. I’m on my feet before my brain clicks into gear, instincts honed from years on the edge taking over. My hand slips inside my cut. My fingers wrap around the cool grip of my gun, the one thing I trust more than any living soul.

I stalk out of my room and through the living room. Each step is deliberate, measured. There’s no hesitation as I bypass the alarm panel, leaving it armed so I can trip it on the way out. Let the shrill sound be a war cry for the club, a signal to Matrix and the rest to rally. The clubhouse isn’t just walls and leather; it’s a fortress, a family, a place where we bleed and fight for each other. When they get the alert, they’ll be on their bikes riding like they’re being chased by demons from hell.

Tucker’s already there when I hit the front door, his eyes wide with the same adrenaline-fueled readiness pumping through my veins. Two prospects flank him, looking like they’re about to jump out of their skin, itching for action or scared shitless—it’s hard to tell.

“Perimeter check,” I bark, the words automatic. “Tucker, take the east side. Prospects—” I nod at them, “—stick with him. Watch hisback. Move!”

They don’t need to be told twice.

Tucker leads the way like a damn battle commander, while the new blood trails him, eager to prove their worth.

I shove the door open, the chill of the outside air biting at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the rage boiling in my gut. No one comes onto club property without permission, and they sure as shit don’t fire their weapons here.

As I crouch down and walk along the edge of the porch, the night erupts with another volley of shots. I zero in on the source—the bar and grill, where some of our boys are pinned down. Rounds of ammunition chew up the dirt and wood around them.

I recognize one of the shooters by his cut. A Demon Rider. Those bastards have been a thorn in our side for too long. They’re a rival club funded by Blackstone—unofficially, of course. We almost shut them down completely a few years ago, but they keep growing back like a cancer in our territory.

Anger surges, hot and violent, as I take aim. I see one of the Demon fuckers, his gun spitting fire into the darkness. My finger tightens on the trigger. Bang! The recoil’s a familiar punch against my palm. One down. But there’s more, always more.

“Reaper!” someone shouts, a warning ormaybe a call to arms.

“Got your back, brother!” I’m the end of the line for anyone who fucks with my club, my family. And tonight, the Demon Riders will pay for crossing that line.

As much as I want to run back to protect Lexi and Ace, I can’t. So far, no Demon Rider has made it past the bar and grill. As long as I keep them on this side, no one will be able to get to my woman and her kid. With one last glance back at the clubhouse, I surge forward, firing a spray of bullets into the night.

Chapter 6: Lexi

The sharp crack of gunfire shatters the evening calm. Icy fingers of fear grip my heart. I crack the bedroom door and peek out into the dimly lit hallway. As my pulse races, the thudding in my chest syncs with each shot fired. Reaper’s heavy boots thunder across the wooden floor as he runs into the living room. His tense silhouette ratchets up my fear. Drawing his gun, he’s ready for a fight, which is why I’ll never be able to call this place home.

As soon as he’s out the door, I go back into the bedroom and walk to the window. Through the dingy glass, I spot Reaper dashing toward the bar and grill. He throws himself behind a stack of discarded wooden pallets, while bullets bite into the wood where he was just standing. Men in dark leather jackets emblazoned with the emblem of a rival MC hide behind the corners of the bar and grill.

My breath hitches as I glance at Ace’s sleeping form. The thought of something happening to him because of this life slices through me sharper than any bullet could. I’vegot to get him out of here, away from this place forever.

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