Page 10 of Secret Betrayals
I feel eyes.
Several of them.
At the entrance, a line of men waits. The one in front is Axel—Talon’s younger brother and now VP. He wasn’t on my radar much back then. Neither was his twin, Nitro. They weren’t heavily involved back in the day. Something about their mother keeping them away from club life. Clearly, that changed. Axel's the Vice President now. Nitro’s the SAA.
Axel sizes us up—me, the boys, Armand. He’s trying to place the hierarchy. Who’s who. Who’s the threat? Who’s in charge?
Malikai and Sebastian throw people off. Big, young, six-three linebackers who move like ghosts. People underestimate them—until they don’t.
Then there's Armand.
Most assume he’s the boss. My man. My keeper.
Wrong on all counts.
I never correct them. I like letting them sit in their assumptions before I burn them down. Misogyny is so predictable it’s almost boring.
They all look me over. Not a glance—full-body inventory. I let them. It tells me more than they think.
The lack of shame in their gaze? Disrespect. Not just to me, but to Armand too—if he were my man. Which he’s not. Still, disrespect is disrespect. And if they’re that careless, that comfortable in their bullshit? We’ve got a problem.
I smirk.
Let them look. Let them underestimate me. It only makes what comes next more satisfying.
Armand and my boys? They’ll clock the disrespect, too. And unlike me, they don’t play subtle. Sometimes, that ends with blood. And ruined Manolos.
Sometimes not.
Fingers crossed for not.
Axel steps forward. Makes the mistake they all do. He walks right up to Armand, hand extended. I don’t stop it. Armand knows better. He’s in on the game. I let them get their speech out first—let them build their house of assumptions. Then I burn the motherfucker down.
Axel clears his throat, formal but guarded.
“Gabe Barone. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Axel, VP of Lucifer’s Saints MC, Sacramento Chapter. If you’d follow me, our President Talon and the other chapter officers are waiting for you in church.”
He nods at me. “Ma’am.”
It’s polite.
It’s not dismissive.
But it’s also not recognition.
Notyet.
Armand looks over at me, and I do everything in my power not to react to the irritated scowl on his face. He gets so damn offended every time this happens. And for what? This is the nature of the beast—we live and breathe in a man’s world. Armand knows that as well as I do. Most men assume “Gabe” is a man. Male-presenting. A boss with a dick. Misogyny isn’t new, and it sure as hell doesn’t shock me.
I should put him out of his misery, but Axel keeps running his mouth before I can.
“Is this your wife and kids?” he asks, glancing toward the boys. I chuckle softly, and his eyes snap to mine. I smile. They always assume wrong.
Armand doesn’t respond. He narrows his eyes on the man, the tension thickening. Axel’s brow furrows. A few brothers shuffle closer behind him, but he keeps pushing through.
“Well, alrighty then,” he says, “we can show them around. They’re more than welcome to enjoy the festivities. It’s my niece Luna’s sixteenth, so there’s plenty for them to do while we meet.”
He chuckles, clearly unsure if he’s being respectful or offensive. Judging by Armand’s expression, it’s leaning toward the latter.
