Chapter Twenty-Two

Vladmir

The Sons of Hell bunker was an old gas chamber from the Korean War era. How King managed to get his hands on one, I would never know, nor did I care. It did, however, serve its purpose, because no matter what I did to this woman, no one would ever hear her screams.

Only Reaper and I walked into the bunker. The rest refused to enter, knowing what I was about to do. As only Reaper and I were somewhat proficient when it came to extracting information, neither of us really cared if that information came from a man or a woman. In my lifetime, I quickly learned that women could be just as vicious if not more vindictive than men and when push came to shove, they were also harder to break.

Say what you wanted about a woman, but I knew their determination, strength, and resilience showed through when it came to something that mattered to them. Now, I just needed to find out what mattered most to this bitch, because when I learned that secret, I would use it to break her into a million fucking pieces.

“Get the fuck out of here, Savage,” Reaper ordered while he took off his cut, placing it on a hook. “My wife and sister don’t leave your sight.”

“Sure thing, Prez,” the man replied, quickly leaving.

“You too, Dmitry,” I added, removing my suit jacket. “Aksana’s been taken to Rosewood Memorial. If you wouldn’t mind,” I said, not really needing to ask, knowing Dmitry would always have my back.

“Sure thing. I’ll call when there is news,” he assured before leaving, closing the door to the bunker behind him.

Staring at the woman hanging from the hook on the ceiling, I asked, “You want to do the honors or shall I?”

“Bitch looks like a spitter. She’s all yours.”

Sighing, I rolled up my sleeves and walked over to the bitch.

“My name is Vladmir Ivenok. What is your name?”

“Fuck you!” the woman shouted, spitting in my face.

Taking a step back, I wiped my face before I threw back my arm and punched the cunt in the mouth.

Seeing a chair, I dragged it over to the middle of the room and sat down. “Now. Let’s start again. Your name?”

Walking out of the bunker, I slipped my suit jacket back on as Reaper donned his cut. “I’ll get some of my boys to take care of the mess and the body. King has already been through enough tonight. He shouldn’t have to clean up after us as well.”

Looking at my phone, I muttered, “Everyone’s ready to go. Illyria and Remi have already left for the airport. Bayou and Rurik are going with them.”

“Aksana?”

“Claudia has arranged a Life Flight to escort her back to New York. Dmitry is going with her. He’s contacted Bane who has agreed to meet them at the hospital when they arrive.”

“So, she made it through surgery?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Reaching for my arm, Reaper stopped me. “Vladmir. You don’t have to go with us. Maybe you should stay with Aksana and Remi. Let the others handle this one.”

Shaking him off, I snapped, “No way in fucking hell. That motherfucker took my daughter and abused my wife for three fucking years. I won’t rest until he fucking pays for his crimes and my daughter is safe.”

Reaper sighed. “Alright. I had to ask. Montana said he will meet us in Birmingham. He’s sending Malice to the hospital with Bane to help protect Aksana.”

The flight from Virginia to Birmingham, Alabama took just over an hour, and when we landed, we hit the ground running, wasting no time meeting up with Montana and a Soulless Sinner I hadn’t yet met.

“Maxim, Reaper, Vladmir,” Montana greeted. “This is Grudge. He’s the president of my Alabama Chapter. We’re going to be staying with them while his club scouts and gathers information. Grudge knows the area best and will follow his lead. Grudge?”

Grudge was a beast of a man. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, with tattoos covering damn near every inch of his body. The man was more muscle than smile. With his shaggy dark hair and cold dead brown eyes, the man looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Listen up and pay fuckin’ attention. This ain’t New York. We do shit differently down here in the Old South, so let me lay it out for you. Mind your fucking manners. If you think my boys are rough, you ain’t never seen a Southern woman on a hair trigger. Don’t fuck with them because if you do, my brothers won’t think twice before layin’ your asses flat. And another thing and this one’s important, it’s college football season down here and we take that shit seriously. So, for the love of God, while you’re here, you are all now Alabama fans... Roll Tide. I’m not lookin’ to start another fucking Civil War down here. Got me?”

Maxim and I looked at each other, neither of us sure how to respond to that, when Reaper chuckled and stated, “I’m more of a Tennessee Vols fan myself.”

“You sum’-bitch,” Grudge growled as Montana jumped in front of the large angry biker. Montana was a big man himself, but even he was having trouble controlling Grudge.

“God damn it, Reaper,” Montana sneered. “You ever heard of the saying, when in fucking Rome, asshole?”

Ignoring Montana, Reaper walked off whistling and singing, “Never been to Rome, but I have been to Tennessee. Wish I was on ole rock top, down in the Tennessee hills...”

“He’s dead,” Grudge seethed, fighting Montana’s hold.

“You can kill him after we find our kids.”

Looking at Maxim, I whispered, “If Grudge doesn’t kill Reaper, I will.”

“And I’ll help,” Maxim snarked.

The Alabama Chapter of the Soulless Sinners was exactly what I expected. Another warehouse converted into a clubhouse, strategically situated for maximum advantage and, like the Mother Chapter in New York, the compound was heavily guarded.

Maxim and I stepped out of the rental car and every Alabama Soulless Sinner stopped and stared at us. I knew it wasn’t everyday two Russians showed up out of the blue, and we probably looked like some anomaly that couldn’t be explained, but as I looked around, I noticed it wasn’t us they were staring at. It was Reaper. And with all the snarls, growls, and clenched jaws I was seeing, I knew whatever problem the Alabama club had, it had nothing to do with us.

They hated Reaper.

“Looks like your jovial personality has reached worldwide, Reaper.”

“Whatever,” he snarked, walking through the front doors of the clubhouse like he owned the place. Had to give it to the man. He let nothing ruffle his feathers. Well, as long as that nothing wasn’t a five-foot six woman with curly blonde hair.

“The kids are being held here,” Terror, the Sergeant of Arms of the Alabama Chapter of the Soulless Sinners, said, pointing to a spot on the map. The man was enormous, like Grudge. In fact, most of the brothers were. It didn’t take me long to realize that the saying ‘things are just bigger in the South’ , stood true. Only it just wasn’t cars, buildings and houses. It was the men, too. “Sent the prospect to scout the place. Lucky sum’-bitch even managed to sneak his ass inside and do his thing. He sent us this right before you arrived.”

Clicking on a remote, we all watched the black screen flicker blue as a grainy black and white feed appeared on the screen. There, in the middle of the room, were Little Max and York, sitting on the floor on either side of Katiya as my little girl silently cried.

“Where the fuck is the prospect now?” Grudge asked angrily.

“Where the fuck you think?” Terror snarked. “Fucker’s hiding in the damn attic. He’s got eyes on those kids and ain’t leavin’. Even threatened to beat his ass, but the lucky fucker ain’t budgin’.”

“Excuse me, gentleman,” Maxim spoke up interrupting them. “Explain to me why, if your man has access to our kids, he doesn’t just get them out of there?”

“Because of this,” Misery, the Vice President of the Alabama Chapter, said, taking the remote, pressing another button as the screen changed to show at least fifty Satan’s Angels walking the outside perimeter of the clubhouse. “And that’s just the outside. Inside, there’s at least twenty more.”

Reaper growled, shaking his head as the room went deathly quiet. Glaring at Montana, he seethed, radiating anger, “You lying motherfucker. You didn’t do shit, did you?”

The tension in the room exploded. No one moved.

I knew exactly what Reaper was referring to, as did Maxim.

When the shit went down with Sandman, Maxim’s nephew, Bullseye, called in Montana’s marker he owed the Golden Skulls and demanded that he eradicate the Satan’s Angels. Montana’s hands were tied. He didn’t have a choice. The shit his club did that night was still making its way through the justice system. More than half of the Satan’s Angels were behind bars, doing ten to fifteen years for various charges. Those who weren’t incarcerated were dead, buried so deep no one would ever find their bodies. However, looking at the screen, it seemed like Montana’s club didn’t exactly follow through with their promise and that right there was a big problem.

“You have one of the biggest fucking motorcycle clubs in the world and you couldn’t even uphold your end of a marker.”

Montana sat there and said nothing.

He couldn’t. He knew Reaper was right.

“Is that why I got the cold shoulder welcome? Because as the President of a club myself, I should have received the respect I am due. So, explain it to me, Montana. You swore a blood oath to me. You vowed to protect my woman because you wanted in on taking down the Society . I had it all in hand, but that wasn’t good enough, was it? You couldn’t let my minuscule club, by your standards, show you up. Was that it? Was my club that big of a threat to you and yours? Or was it because if I succeeded on my own, the table would take a closer look at you and that was something you didn’t want?”

Montana kept quiet while Reaper eerily and calmly continued, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to answer that. We both already know the answer, and you know what biker law demands. So, tell me Montana. Which club?”

“Don’t threaten me, asshole,” Montana sneered.

“Either you choose, or I will.”

I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, nor did I care. All I cared about was getting my daughter, Little Max, and York out of that house and back home safely where they belonged, because there was no fucking way I was going to Aksana and tell her I had failed.

That word was not in my vocabulary.