Page 8 of Secret Betrayals
The past never stays in the past for long. No matter how much you try to ignore it.
The next day
Iglance at Sebastian and Malikai, fixing them both with a sharp but solid look that’s stern yet reassuring. “When we arrive, I want you both to stay close to Armand and me. I don’t anticipate any problems, but stay alert. You should have everything you need. If you don’t, speak up. Immediately.” My tone comes out harder than intended, clipped and command-heavy. I catch it and soften slightly. “Are we clear?” I give them a soft smile, which I doubt can be seen in my eyes. I inhale and exhale slowly, trying to keep myself centered. Mentally preparing for what’s to come.
“Yes,” they answer together, voices low and tight. They’re focused. Intense. Good.
I inhale deeply, forcing air into my lungs that feel too tight. My eyes drift to the window, and that’s when I see it. We’ve arrived. The place I swore I’d never return to.
Lucifer’s Saints MC clubhouse.
Seventeen years of silence. Seventeen years of pretending it didn’t exist. Of building walls so thick around this chapter of my life, I almost convinced myself it never happened. But denial only lasts so long when you belong to a family like mine. Eventually, blood and business call you back.
And here I am.
Back at the gates of the club, that shattered me. Back to face the place, the people… andhim. The man who broke, reshaped, and ultimately forged the version of me that survived. I should probably thank him. The bitter laugh that bubbles up gets caught in my throat. Instead, I exhale slowly, steadying my breath as I keep my expression unreadable. Malikai and Sebastian are watching me closely. I feel their eyes on me, measuring, maybe even worried.
But I can’t show it.
Weakness is not tolerated. Not in this world. Not in this family. Not inme.
So I tighten my jaw. Raise my chin.
I’m here to do a job.
And whatever war is happening inside me? It’ll stay locked up—chained, gagged, buried deep. That part of me is not allowed to breathe. Not here. Not today. My eyes shift back to the main gate, and I do a double-take. It’s changed.
They’vechanged.
The old rolling chain-link gate wrapped in barbed wire is gone. In its place is a solid, black wrought-iron fortress—mechanized, reinforced, mean as hell. Thick glass slats shimmer between the bars—bulletproof, if my guess is right. A large brick security station has replaced the dilapidated shack where prospects once loitered with cigarettes and attitude. Now, it’s a miniature fortress, complete with what looks like a sniper’s tower above.
Damn.
The club’s logo—a skull with devil horns and wings—dominates the center of the gate. The image splits cleanly down the middle the moment it opens, the club’s colors parting like jaws swallowing us whole.
Welcome to hell.
Myown personal hell.
I nod slightly to myself, taking it all in. Working with the family brought them money. And clearly, they put it to use. Upgrades were necessary, sure—but they went above and beyond. This isn’t the club I remember. And yet... I know its bones.
The closer we get to the clubhouse, the tighter my chest feels. I force my shoulders down, bit by bit, easing the tension like it doesn’t cost me. I won’t let anyone see the storm under my skin. This is my battleground now, not my burial ground. I’m not that girl anymore.
I won’t be her again.
Not for this place. Not forhim.
My thoughts try to drift back tothatday, to everything that followed. I slam the mental door before memories can escape. I’m not here to unpack trauma. I’m here to renegotiate a deal and gain insight.Strictly business.
Well… mostly.
Returning to this place was always inevitable. I just thought I had more time. More distance. Morepeace. But peace doesn’t exist in this world. Only strategy. Only survival.
I’m Gabriella Maribel Barone—consigliere to the Barone mafia. And I’m not the girl who left. I’m something else, someone else. And I need to remember and hold on to that if I’m going to survive this.
The gate closes behind us with a solidclang. No resistance. No attitude. No idiot prospect playing gatekeeper. Good. I'm not in the mood to slap sense into anyone today. I let out a long breath, half in relief, half in irritation. It's too early for bloodshed.
I giggle. Honest-to-God giggle like a damn schoolgirl. Everyone in the car looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
