“Did she?” she questions.
The tears run down my face. I hate that I’m giving her the satisfaction of seeing me cry but my mind just can't process the level of evil contained within one person. She laughs again, enjoying the pain she's inflicting. Now I know what she means by Conner being a trophy. Every time she looks at him he’s proof that she won.
I pull the gun-free and flick the safety off, hoping like fuck they loaded it because I’m only going to get one shot at this.
“She didn't kill herself. Fucking hell, she was too much of a coward for that. Besides, she wouldn’t leave you or hurt her precious unborn child. I kept her locked up in her room in the basement under our house. Nobody but us knew about it. As you know, John had it soundproofed so her screams wouldn't disturb the rest of us. I kept her down there until she went into labor and then I took her kid. Oh, it was the best day of my life. Finally, after everything, I managed to break her. Every time I looked in his eyes, I got to relive it over and over again. She took my son from me so I took her son from her. It was poetic justice if you ask me.
“She didn't last long after that. She curled up into a little ball and died a little more every day until finally—poof—she was gone.”
She looks at me then, coming back to herself. “And now that you’ve done the hard part, I’m going to be gracious and finally reunite her with her children. I’m nothing if not benevolent.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out. “You will always be a poor man's version of my mother. A watered-down wannabe. She was pure class and the bravest person I knew. She’ll live on in the memories of the people who love her but you, you bitter shrew, will be forgotten in the blink of an eye.” I wrap my arm around Conner and bury his head in my shoulder before lifting the gun and firing it at her.
She crumples to the ground, a look of shock on her face as the bullet wedges itself in her chest.
“Keep your eyes closed for me sweetheart,” I whisper to Conner before pulling away from him and standing up. I walk over to Wanda's prone body and smile.
“See you in hell.” I fire another bullet into her skull and watch the life drain from her eyes.
I sag in relief and drop the gun. I run for Conner and pull him into my chest as we sob together for all we've lost and all we've been through. I don't know how long we sit there before our tears run dry but when I pull back and place a kiss on his forehead, I tell him something he needs to know. “Our mother, your real mother, was an amazing woman and she loved you so fiercely and so completely. I know this because she loved me exactly the same way. I’ll tell you all about her, I swear.”
“Okay,” he offers me a wobbly smile. Okay. Just one simple word but it's enough.
“Everything will be okay now.”
I didn’t realize I spoke too soon until Conner’s eyes go wide a second before something collides with the back of my head and everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zero
The minutes roll by mocking me. When an hour passes with no sign of Viper, or Megan still for that matter, my usually calm demeanor starts to fray around the edges.
All of the brothers finish funneling in, barring Viper and the prospects manning the gate. We’ve gathered in the large room at the back of the compound where we hold church while waiting for Viper to get here to begin. The prospects are usually excluded from church but I want everyone on this.
The same instincts that kept me and my brothers safe across the ocean scream at me now that something is wrong. As VP, I step up and call a halt to all the chatter as people take their seats, commanding the attention of everyone around me.
One look at Grim tells me he’s feeling the weird vibe too.
“Any news from the prospects?” I ask him.
“No sign of Viper or Megan yet,” he confirms.
“Fill us in here, Zero. Something going down we should know about?” Trip asks from across the table.
“Megan and Conner are missing. Viper went out looking for them but he should have been back by now. Any other time and I would chalk it up to coincidence but my gut is telling me something else is going on here.”
“She wouldn't just run away. Not after everything,” Trip muses. “You thinking foul play?” He scowls at the thought.
“Could be she’s just hiding out after her fight with Viper,” Rock adds from beside him.
“How do you know she had a fight with Viper?”
Rock snorts, his seat creaking as he sits forward.
“I was in the bar when she tore out of his office in tears. I asked her if she was okay but she tore my head off, muttering about asshole bikers so I let her be.” He shrugs.
“Pissed off women are nothing if not determined. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be,” he adds.
A few of the guys nod in agreement, the tension in the room easing a little but not from me.
“And what about Viper?” I ask him.
“That I don’t know. Could be he’s found her and they’re making up.” He winks, making the guys laugh but his blasé attitude is making my skin itch. Then again, what did I expect from the man who was happy enough to leave Megan on the streets to defend herself for years?
“How long’s he been gone?” Rock asks.
“An hour,” I admit, making Rock laugh out loud.
“Christ, Zero, he’s not five. Cut the guy some slack.” He’s right but his words are still grating on my patience.
“Last I checked you were no longer the president or the VP, Rock, so how about you lay off trying to give me orders,” I bark and the room goes quiet again at my unusually frosty attitude.
“Trip,” I address the man who I know adores his old lady. “If Honey was missing, especially if she was upset and in a place that still doesn't feel like home, what would you do?”
“I’d tear this place apart brick by brick until I found her to make things right,” he answers without giving a single fuck what anyone else thinks.
“Grim, text Kaz and Wizz to head over to the cabin to look for Viper. That’s where he was the last time I spoke to him. Everyone else, I want you to fan out and find Megan and Conner. There are only so many places she can be with a small boy and wherever she is, she’s on foot. I want all available eyes out looking until they’re found.”
Everyone leaves to begin the search. Even the ones who think I’m overreacting do my bidding without a word of argument.
I try Viper’s phone again and again until finally, after another fifteen minutes, he picks up.
“Thank fucking Christ. I’m going to kick your motherfucking ass when you get here,” I yell at him, signaling for Grim that I’ve got a hold of him.
“It’s Kaz, Zero. Viper’s been shot. An ambulance is en route but it’s bad, man,” he tells me, making me freeze solid in place.
“I’m on my way—”
He cuts me off before I can continue. “There's more. Wizz searched the surrounding area and found Wanda dead with a bullet to the stomach and one to the head. I don’t know what the fuck happened but he’s doing a clean up now as this place will be crawling with police unless you can get a lock on it.”
My breathing comes out in ragged pants, my anger making my skin feel like it's splitting at the seams. I can hear the siren of the approaching ambulance through the phone and Kaz yelling that he’s over here.
“Gotta go. I’ll keep you updated but, Zero, you gotta know one last thing. Someone has carved ‘Carnage’ into his chest.” He hangs up just as my anger detonates.
“What is it?” Grim’s voice has me turning to face him. Whatever he sees has him taking a step back.
“Viper’s been shot. He’s on his way to the hospital now. Wanda’s dead,” I tell him, not recognizing my own voice.
“What?” I turn to face Rock and Cougar, who walk back through the door together, both of them halting at my words.
“The word ‘Carnage’ was carved into his chest.”
“That bitch!” Rock roars be
fore throwing a chair. “I know she hated Wanda but what the fuck did Viper do?”
I step towards him, ready to rip his head off at what he’s implying but Grim holds me back.
“Are you suggesting that Megan shot Wanda and Viper before carving him up?” I ask him incredulously. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I roar.
“I get it, Zero, but you have to admit it's a hell of a coincidence that your girl disappears without a trace and the two people who she clearly has an issue with are suddenly shot. The word ‘Carnage’ sounds like she’s leaving a message about where her loyalties truly lie,” Cougar comments quietly, keeping himself between Rock and me.
“If my nephew dies, I’ll kill the bitch myself,” he spits.
This time it's me holding Grim back.
“Get the fuck out of here, Rock.” When he doesn't move I yell again. “Go!”
He shrugs off Cougar’s hold. “Tell me one thing. What the fuck are you going to do about this, VP?” He spits “VP” like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. If I wasn't so preoccupied, I’d cut his fucking tongue out for this disrespect he’s showing.
“I’m going to start a war,” I tell him ominously and watch as his shoulders drop along with his head. He offers me a nod, a piss poor job of an apology if I ever had one, then leaves.
“Zero,” Grim says my name like a warning but I ignore him, looking straight at Cougar.
“I’m taking Grim and all but two of the prospects to Carnage with me.” I raise my hand when he tries to speak. This isn't open for discussion.
“She is our old lady. We’ll deal with it. The prospects are expendable so I’m taking them. I’ll leave two on the gate but I want you and Rock to gather every single member and old lady in here while we're gone. We’re going on lockdown. Go find Rock and fill him in. Nobody comes in or out while I’m gone, got it?”
He nods and leaves to do my bidding.
I turn to face Grim once were alone.
“Zero, this isn't right,” he reasons with me, but I shake my head. I don't want to hear it.
“Hospital first. I need to check on Viper and talk to Kaz and Wizz. I need you with me on this, Grim. I’m asking as your VP to follow my orders without question but I’m asking as your friend to trust me.”
He searches my face, for what I don't know, but eventually, he agrees, giving me the green light to put my plan in motion.
Kaz is in the waiting room when we pull up to Mercy General, his head bowed, blood still coating his hands.
He looks up when I place my hand on his shoulder. “Any news?” I ask him quietly, keeping my emotions locked down so I can get on with the job at hand even as the sterile smell of antiseptic and floor cleaner invades my senses, threatening to crack my fortitude.
“Doc says it was a through and through. Went through his shoulder and hit his collarbone on the way out. It was a sheer fucking miracle that nothing major was hit. The main issue is the amount of blood he’s lost.”
“He’s a fighter and the most stubborn bastard I know. He’ll pull through,” I inform him, knowing it will take more than a bullet to keep Viper down.
“I’m swapping you out with Eight Ball and Karma. I want you and Wizz with me. You up for that?”
He nods without question, offering me his loyalty, which is why I’m thankful to call this man my brother.
“So what's the plan?” Grim asks from beside me. I spin around to face him and the rest of the guys. The grin that spreads across my face has the nurse who was offering me a seductive smile from behind her desk going pale and turning away.
By the time I’ve explained my intentions, everyone is wearing similar expressions.
We walked in here to check on one of our fallen but we walk out united in our determination to live up to our names and rain down chaos on those who have earned it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Megan
The pounding in my brain pulls me from my sleep. It feels like a dozen ice picks are smashing their way through my skull, making nausea swell inside me.
Holy shit, did I get drunk? I search my brain for memories but they feel foggy and out of reach. Every time I try to reach out and grab one, they dissipate like vapor.
I keep my eyes squeezed shut and concentrate on the last thing I do remember, which is arguing with Viper. His words cut me like knives, giving me every reason to drink myself into a stupor but it’s unlike me to drown my sorrows. Try as I might, I can't remember anything beyond telling him I hoped it was worth it.
I push up on one hand and nearly faceplant as a wave of pain so intense steals my breath and has me lying back down. I open my eyes and see nothing. Panic washes over me as the darkness stretches out before me. Not being able to see after losing my hearing is my worst nightmare. As my chest heaves, I have to fight to remind myself to take deep breaths before a panic attack swallows me whole.
When I finally calm my breathing enough, I focus on my other senses. The space around me is cold and damp, the air stale and acrid smelling with a metallic, almost copper tasting, tang in the air letting me know wherever I am it’s inside a building of some sort. My throbbing arm is a reminder not to place any weight on it so I sit up again, but slowly this time. I use my uninjured arm to feel the floor around me.
When I try to get to my feet, I feel pain slice through me as I place my weight on them. I also feel something pulling at my ankle. Reaching down, I feel a set of cuffs attached to my ankle. Using my fingers, I figure out pretty quickly that the other end is locked around some kind of pipe running up the length of the wall. I give it a hard shake but it’s solid, not budging an inch.
I slide my cold hand under my T-shirt and slip my fingers under the edge of my bra, fiddling around until I find that little seam at the edge. I pick at it, pulling the frayed edges, working at it until it finally loosens enough for what I need. Slipping my hand between my breasts, I use my thumb to push the edge of the wire through the small hole I've poked in the fabric and then maneuver it through the hole until I can snag the end of the wire between my fingers and pull it free.
Leaning down, ignoring the throbbing in my arm and shoulder, I slip the wire into the lock of the cuffs just like I did when Zero cuffed me to the bed all those nights ago. Thirty seconds later and the cuffs open, allowing me to pull myself free.
Every inch of my body hurts, each spot even more painful than the next. Nothing, however, compares to the skull-splitting headache. As much as I want to curl up and die, I know I can’t. I don’t waste any more time feeling sorry for myself or trying to figure out where I am. I search the floor around me, hoping it’s relatively clear so I can make my escape. When my fingers bump into something, I instinctively yank my hand back before I can begin to try and figure out what it is.
Taking a deep breath, I reach out my shaking fingers and wrap them around the object that I belatedly realize is a leg. A child's leg. That breaks through the foggy haze and has me pulling my aching body over to the little boy who is lying far too still.
I shot Wanda. Conner’s look of horror. The pain in my head and then nothing. The images spin on a loop over and over in my brain. Shoot, horror, nothingness.
“Conner?” I can feel the wobble in my voice as I run my hands over his body, trying hopelessly to check for injuries without being able to see him.
He doesn't move, making the vomit I had desperately been trying to keep down crawl up my throat. I turn away and lean over, throwing up everything inside me. Each wretch of my stomach compounds the stabbing in my brain.
When there is nothing left to bring up, I wipe my mouth with the edge of my sleeve and crawl back to Conner. I slide my fingers up his neck to feel for a pulse. When I find the steady bump, bump under my fingertips, a sob of stark relief escapes me. He’s alive but I don't know how long for. I have to find a way to get us out of here.
My first instinct is to scream but then I remember that someone put us here and swallow it down before a sound can escape me. If I draw their a
ttention they might come and finish the job or worse, do something else to Conner. Whoever it is has proven they have no issues hurting a child.
Okay, think Megan. I slide my jacket off gingerly, biting back a scream when I pull it free from my arm, which I’m guessing is broken. I use the jacket to cover my little brother before I climb once again to my unsteady feet. The motion makes my head spin again like I’m on a ride at a fairground spinning around and around at dizzying speeds. I don’t know much about head injuries but I don't need to be an expert to guess that I have a concussion. Not that it changes anything other than I have to fight harder to stay on my feet.
With my good arm out in front of me, I take a shuffle forward and wait until I bump into something. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be anything in my path to trip over before my hands encounter the cold smooth stone wall. Keeping my hand on it, I follow it until I reach a corner and then turn to follow it across the other side of the room, hoping I’ll be able to gauge how big this space is.
I’ve taken only six steps before I smack my head on something hard and collapse to the floor in a heap. My hands naturally go down to break my fall, which means I land awkwardly on my sore arm. A scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. I can’t move, the pain is so debilitating it hurts just to draw air into my lungs. I don't fight the tears as they flow freely down my face, instead focusing all my energy on trying not to pass out. I allow myself a moment, just one second, to consider the merits of curling into a ball and waiting for someone to rescue me. Then I think of that little boy lying somewhere in the dark depending on me. I climb to my feet again as determination floods my system.
No, fuck being rescued. This time I’m going to rescue my damn self.
Lifting my hand in front of my face, I reach out to see what I hit and feel… wood? Sliding my hands lower my heart starts to pound when I realize what it is I’m touching. Steps. Old wooden steps. I scramble around until I feel the bottom step and maneuver myself as carefully as I can up them until I encounter a door.
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