Chapter Twenty-One

Storm

Typing into my phone, I brought up the club's surveillance system, deactivating the cameras and audio in the entire club.

I wasn't taking any chances.

When I returned to the penthouse after Montana sent me on a wild fucking goose chase, I expected to find Delany and Harlow, not Vladmir Ivenok, sitting on my couch with a gun pointed at me. If that wasn't bad enough, I got a text from Malice telling me that Montana kicked Delany to the curb and was holding my daughter as leverage.

While I got that Montana was only trying to protect the club, he went about it the wrong fucking way.

Now, that bastard left me with no choice.

He picked the wrong side.

Hearing the back door unlock, I reached for my gun and opened the fucking door. I knew the only ones in the club were Malice, who was with Harlow, Silver, who had already retired for the evening, and Montana, who was sitting in his office, nursing a bottle of whiskey.

Making my way in the dark, I headed straight for the mailroom.

This shit was going to end tonight.

If Montana was too chickenshit to do anything, then that was on him. I would not let some perverted fucknut with a God complex destroy my family. I promised Delany that nothing would happen to her or Harlow, and I intended to keep that promise.

No matter the cost.

My wife had nothing to do with this shit. She was innocent. Unknowing of her past. Just because she shared blood didn't mean she was culpable.

Entering the mailroom, I saw Malice sitting in a chair eating an apple, his eyes on me. "Thought you'd show up here, brother."

"You're not going to stop me, Malice."

"No, but I will," Montana sneered. I felt the butt of his gun against the back of my head as he reached around me, taking my weapon away from me.

"You fucked up brother, marrying that piece."

"I did the right thing, and you know it. What you should be worrying about is what else your fucked-up father got this club messed up with, because trust me, brother, my gut is telling me this shit isn't over with."

"Not worried about that shit. What I am concerned about is the piece you married and her alliance to the Golden Skulls."

Rounding on Montana, I growled. "What fucking alliance? She's innocent. She doesn't even know!"

"Only a matter of time," Montana seethed. "She a complication we can't afford."

"Are you fucking serious right now? She doesn't care about anything but taking care of our daughter. How is she a complication?"

"She's a fucking Golden Legacy!" Montana roared. "When Reaper learns about her, he will come for her! Not letting that bastard kill my brother over some piece."

"That's what has your fucking dick in a vise. Jesus, Montana. Then help me solidify this, not make it worse. My daughter is biker royalty. Protected. Help me convince Reaper that my marriage is legit. That is the best way to protect Delany and Harlow."

Laughter had the both of us turning as George Stone leaned against the bars of his cell. "God, you are so fucking gullible, Storm. Want to know why my son hates your piece?"

"Shut the fuck up, old man," Montana sneered, stepping around me. "You don't know what the fuck you are talking about."

"Oh, I think I do, Son." George smirked. "Why don't you tell Storm that you knew about Delany long before she popped the brat?"

"What the fuck is he talking about?" I asked as Malice slowly got to his feet. When Montana refused to look at me, I slowly shook my head. "Tell me you didn't know that Delany was pregnant with my kid all this time? Tell me that my brother, my president, didn't hide my kid from me?"

"It's not as bad as you think." The bastard sighed. "After you got your club piece pregnant, I wasn't taking any chances you'd fuck up again. Just never thought it would be the same night you killed your first kid. When I saw you leave with Delany, I kept an eye on her."

Rearing back, I punched the fucker in the face. When he stumbled back, I tackled the fucker to the ground. "You fucking knew she was pregnant!"

Hitting him over and over again, the bastard didn't fight me as I laid into him. Of all the fucked-up shit Montana was known for, this had to be the fucking worst.

When Malice pulled me off him, Montana rolled onto his side, spitting blood on the floor. "You are a fucking bastard! How could you keep something like that from me? I'm your fucking brother!"

"Who doesn't know how to wrap his dick." Montana groaned, getting to his feet. "Had you done that, then none of this shit would be happening."

"Well, it's happening." I shrugged off Malice, straightening my shoulders. "Delany is my wife. So, get fucking used to it because she isn't going anywhere."

"You sure about that, brother, because the piece was ready to run when I laid it out for her."

"What the fuck did you do?"

"Just told her the truth. She either spreads and lets you fucking get her pregnant again or I was going to make sure one of the brothers did the deed. Like I said, Storm. Not letting Reaper kill my brother."

Malice growled.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to hold on to the fury that was ready to erupt. In all the years I'd known Montana, I knew he could be ruthless, heartless, and sadistic son of a bitch when it came to protecting this club. I just never knew how much.

"Malice, please go get my daughter. We're leaving."

"And I'll go with you," my brother mumbled, turning to leave.

"I don't know what is going on in your fucked-up mind, Montana, but let me be very fucking clear. Delany is my wife. Harlow is my daughter. I will do anything to protect them. Even go up against you and this club. You're worried about losing a brother. It's not me you need to be worried about. Remember one thing. Club rules state that all it takes is one motion and your seat is in jeopardy."

"Don't fucking threaten me, Storm."

"Not threatening. Just stating a fact. And here is another fact," I said, looking directly at the man. "I control the money, you sick fuck. Fuck with my family again, and I'll bankrupt your ass."

Later that night...

Sliding out of the blacked-out SUV, I stood looking at the large clubhouse on pier 81 as he came to stand beside me. Neither of us said anything as we looked at the home of the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club.

"You sure about this?"

Nodding, I reached around my back, wrapping my hand around the butt of a gun. Flipping the safety off, I pulled back on the chamber, loading a bullet.

I'd never been surer about anything in my life. I was done with this shit. I wasn't going to let an innocent woman suffer like I had. I knew this history of corruption would never end with those currently in power. They would never see the bigger picture.

No matter how I looked at it, the fighting would continue for generations, and the blood would continue to flow.

That was something I refused to allow.

I was tired of burying friends, family and loved ones.

This shit show needed to end now.

"You sure everything is off?" I asked.

"He said it was."

"Good." I nodded.

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"I've got this," I stated firmly. "Just keep the vehicle running."

Walking in the dark, I headed toward the clubhouse, surrounded by the darkness of the night. Not a single star in the sky shined brightly. The moon, vacant, leaving the night pitch black. It was the perfect night, almost as if the darkness welcomed what was to come.

Pushing the front doors of the clubhouse open, I moved methodically toward my destination.

I was so fucking tired of this shit.

My whole life, I had to fight my way through the darkness. I'd been beaten, used as a bargaining chip, manipulated, tortured, raped, and torn apart for others' sick fucking perversion.

No more.

Walking into the mailroom, I didn't bother looking at the other men sleeping in the cells. The one I wanted was at the far end, and when I stood before the bars, seeing him sleeping peacefully, I raised my gun and whispered, "This is for my fucking family, you piece of shit."

Then I emptied my clip into George Stone.

Fucking piece of shit.

I hope he rotted in hell.

Turning to walk away, the other men in the cells all stood, staring at me, saying nothing as I smirked, walking out of the room with my head held high. I didn't give a fuck if they told Montana what they saw. It wouldn't matter. Because by the time they uttered my name, I would be long gone. They would never find me.

My family would ensure that.

As I stepped out into the night, I smiled as the darkness surrounded me, when I heard a familiar voice yell, "Drop!"

Doing so immediately, a silver blade flew past my face.

As if time stood still, I turned just in time to watch the long blade slice into Shame, who stood behind me, holding a gun in his hand. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he stood there, staring at me in shock.

Out of the darkness, my savior walked toward me like some resolute, methodical, dangerous predator from a fabled tale as he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword and yanked hard, removing his blade.

I stood there as Shame's lifeless body fell to the ground.

I should have known he would be here. He was never far from her. Always there in the darkness in case she needed him.

A constant shadow, she would never shake.

Facing me, he said nothing as he walked back into the darkness. Standing there, I wondered if I would ever see him again.

Once back in the SUV, I handed my companion the gun. "He's dead."

"Rurik, airport," my uncle ordered, placing the gun in his jacket. "Gio is waiting to take you home. I will take care of everything from here, niece. Is there anything you want me to relay to your brother?"

"Just tell him I love him."