Page 12 of Massacre
“Brother, it’s been years since you’ve seen her. Shit’s changed.”
“Has it?” I shouted, pacing the Silver Shadows church. “Because from where I’m standing, shit is still the same for her. How can I look her in the eyes knowing I didn’t keep my promise?”
“But you did.” Sypher got to his feet. “Val and I set her up in Chicago, but something spooked her and she ran.”
“She ran from me, Sypher,” I yelled, pounding on my chest. “It was a fluke. A chance meeting. The second she saw me, she ran.”
“He’s right, Massacre,” Navigator, the club’s tech guy, added. “Like Sypher, I investigate everyone coming in and out of this club. I knew Amber was hiding. Her past was too clean, but she never gave us a reason to suspect. It was only after she stayed that we learned about her past.”
“She’s not a club whore,” Romeo growled as he glared daggers at me. “Amber decides who and what she does. No one here would ever harm her and she can be friends with anyone she chooses.”
I grinned menacingly and took a step forward, as Cash moved fast, stepping in front of me. “You want to rip someone apart, Massacre? Then I’m your guy. She overheard a private conversation between my old lady and her brother about her birth mother. She got upset and left. It’s my fault.”
For a split second, nobody moved. The silence roared, stretching taut between everyone, threatening to snap. King’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, his expression unreadable, but his gaze never wavered. Cash’s jaw ticked. His fingers curled into a fist as he waited for my decision. As much as I wanted to pound on someone, I wouldn’t take my anger out on a club brother because his old lady couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and I sure as shit would never hit a woman.
Finally, Sypher’s voice cut through the tension, low and measured. “Brother, I swear to you, Nav and I will find out whathappened.” He looked around the table, meeting the man’s eyes, who quickly nodded.
“Whoever laid hands on her—club, outsider, ghost—it doesn’t matter. Sypher and I will find them. They will answer for touching her.”
A muscle jumped in my cheek. Words stuck in my throat, bitter and useless. Too many promises, all of them broken. I forced myself to meet Sypher’s gaze, searching for any hint of a lie.
I found none.
Looking at King, I demanded, “I want her protected. Twenty-four seven.”
“You don’t tell me what to do in my club, Massacre.”
Stepping around Cash, I placed my hands on the table, leaned forward, and grinned. “You will do exactly as I say, King, because she’s mine. I gave her my patch the day I rescued her. That makes her mine.”
“Damn it, Mass. You promised,” I vaguely heard Sypher mutter as he hung his head.
“What is he talking about, Danny?” Sypher’s partner, Dante, asked.
King slowly stood as brothers moved to protect Romeo. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Standing toe to toe with the president of the Silver Shadows, I clearly spoke, enunciating my words so there would be no mistake, and paying no mind to the sound of the church door opening. “I said she has my patch, asshole.”
Dead motherfucking silence only interrupted by a gasp.
Turning, I glared at the couple standing in the doorway, Bane right next to Valhalla, and if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man, but I didn’t give a fuck. I made myself crystal clear to her all those years ago. I kept my promise. I didn’t seek her out. I gave her time to heal, space to center her mind, freedom toexperience the world through new eyes, even when I wanted to wrap her in cotton and take her with me.
“Massacre, she’s my daughter. I just got her back. Please don’t do this.”
“I warned you, Val,” I clearly said, looking at the president of the Nyght Nymphs. “I told you before I walked away to hide her deep. You should have listened.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Bane seethed, looking from me to Valhalla, as brothers slowly got up from their seats. “What the hell is he talking about? What promise?”
The room crackled with tension; the air thick enough to taste. I didn’t budge, my shoulders squared, daring anyone to challenge me as the weight of old secrets hung between us all. The past, once locked away, was bleeding into the present, threatening to tear alliances apart and bind others with unbreakable chains.
King’s jaw tightened, his eyes cold and calculating, but he didn’t speak. Sypher ran a trembling hand through his hair, glancing at Dante, as if begging for an explanation he didn’t have. Valhalla, still standing in the doorway, looked as if she’d weathered a thousand storms just to arrive at this moment. Bane’s fists clenched, his breath coming fast, but he held himself back—barely.
A silent understanding passed between me and Val; this was bigger than club politics or old grudges. It was about blood ties, loyalty, and a promise made in the shadows of shattered trust. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Someone’s phone buzzed on the table, but they ignored it. Outside, thunder rumbled, as if the world itself held its breath.
Then, without warning, footsteps echoed in the hall. The argument paused, suspicion flickering in every gaze. The church’s heavy door creaked again, and the sharp click of heels followed—a harbinger of the next revelation. The tensionsplintered into fragments, each one sharp with anticipation as the woman from outside who recognized me walked in and said, “She’s waking up.”
Bane slammed me up against the wall and seethed. “You are not going in there.”
“Try and stop me, motherfucker,” I sneered as several of the Silver Shadows tried pulling the fucker off me.
