Page 49 of Ravaged and Ruined
It’s not for him. It’s not for me. It’s for the piece of him growing inside me that didn’t ask for any of this.
Chapter Twenty
Aero
Telling Lacey that I didn’t love her might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I watched the color drain from her eyes when I said it. I watched her swallow that heartbreak like it didn’t cut her in half. She was trying to be strong for me, even then.
Now she’s gone. Packed into a dented, rust-streaked van with a prospect behind the wheel, staring ahead like he doesn’t feel the tension rolling off me like a damn thunderstorm.
She’s right though. I’m a damn coward and a liar.
I lied. Straight to her face.
I didn’t even give her time to process what I was demanding of her, or a proper goodbye. I treated her like nothing but a problem to solve but it’s my problem, not hers.
It’s not even true. I feel that girl in my bones. In the cracks of me that nothing else has ever touched. But I can’t say the words. Can’t let them exist in the world where my enemies are circling, where scum like the Bloody Scorpions are sniffing out weakness like wolves. If they knew how much she meant to me… they’d useit. Hell they already got too close and I’m kicking myself in the ass for it. I’ll give her up to keep her breathing.
I stand on the front steps of the clubhouse, watching the van’s tail lights until they disappear around the bend. My fists curl at my sides. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. I don’t breathe until it’s out of sight.
Then I turn and stalk back into the clubhouse. The door slams behind me like a gunshot. Every fucking eye in the place snaps away. The air stiffens. Brothers and Ol’ Ladies pretend they weren’t watching. Zoey ducks her head. Crank fidgets with a loose thread on his vest. Even Surge doesn’t meet my gaze.
I’m an asshole. I know. I didn’t have to handle it like that. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gone through with it.
Emery stands behind the bar, arms folded, scowl so sharp it could skin me alive. Midge doesn’t say a word, she just lines up three shots of whiskey and slides them down the counter.
I knock back the first. No burn. No sting. Just more empty. The second one’s just as useless. By the third, the silence has stretched so long it feels like it’s wrapped around my throat strangling me from the inside out.
I slam the glass down and look up. Everyone’s watching me now, not even pretending anymore.
“We got work to do,” I growl out.
It cuts through the room like a blade. No one argues. They know what’s coming. The Bloody Scorpions made this personal. They threatened what’s mine. And now, I’m gonna tear every one of them apart piece by piece until the streets run red with their blood.
Because if I can’t have Lacey… I need the war.
“Hashtag,” I bark, jerking my chin toward the back room. “Show me what you got.”
He’s already moving, his laptop tucked under one arm like it’s an extension of his body. We all trail out of the commonroom, through the courtyard and into the tech den. Hashtag throws his laptop on the table under a row of screens, cords hanging everywhere like a mechanical spider web. The screens glow, already blinking with signals and code.
“Told you I could find ’em,” he mutters, fingers flying over keys. “One of the Scorpions posted a clip to a closed group on the dark web. Real cocky shit. Video’s gone now, but I scraped the metadata.”
I squint at the map on the screen. “That’s a dead zone outside the city.”
“Yeah. Industrial decay central. GPS ping matches burner traffic too. These dumb asses use cheap-ass phones. No encryption. Bought in bulk from a gas station on the 9.”
Pike whistles. “Dumb and dirty.”
Hashtag nods. “I tapped into the nearest tower. Piggybacked off three pings from phones with matching serials. Got movement. Pattern suggests they’re coming and going from a single location.”
“You’re telling me this is their clubhouse?”
He grins like the little bastard just hacked God. “I’m telling you if we leave now, we’ll catch ’em with their dicks out and no one watching the back door.”
“We’ll hit it quiet. Get eyes first. Snatch a prospect and bring him home.” I straighten, blood hot in my veins. “Gear up. We ride in ten.”
And just like that, the room explodes into motion. We don’t talk. We don’t joke. We ready our weapons and head to our bikes. This war’s just beginning. And I plan to end it one corpse at a time.
Ten minutes later, we’re riding hard, tires screaming against hot asphalt, engines roaring like war drums under the Atlantic City sun. The scent of salt and gasoline clings to the air.Summer’s heat presses down like a curse. Sweat sticks to my back, but I welcome the burn. It keeps me sharp.
