Chapter 100
Chapter 100
-Hailey-
Stella lived for her work. Unless she was deathly ill, she never canceled an appointment. That would’ve been like a cardinal refusing mass. It just didn’t happen.
The cold reality I’d been swallowing down since last night felt like it was about to come spewing out of me with all the coffee I’d had this morning.
I locked the bathroom door. The room was a concrete box, painted a glossy gunmetal gray that reflected the harsh fluorescent light. It smelled aggressively clean, but still somehow aggressively like male sweat.
I lowered the toilet lid and sat down, and the cold of it seeped through my jeans. My hands were shaking. I gripped the phone tighter, my thumb hovering over Nikki’s name.
Taking a breath that hitched in my chest, I hit the call button and pressed the phone to my ear. The ringing was hell. Once, Twice.
“Yeah.” Nikki’s voice was tense.
“Nikki.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I got your texts. Still nothing?”
I could hear the faint buzz of a tattoo gun in the background, the tinny sound of the radio. Life going on.
“Nada. Zilch. Her client was pissed. I had to rebook him. And I drove by her place on my way in. Her car’s not there. Lights are off.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Nikki… the other day, when that Russian guy came into the shop… did Stella tell you about that?”
The buzz of the gun stopped. “Yeah. She told me.” Her voice dropped, losing its usual bored edge. “She told me some slick fucker in a suit came asking for you. Said you were ‘in some deep shit with some bad people.‘ Her words, not mine. She was… worried about you, Hailey.”
I hated that. Stella’s worry was a rare and valuable commodity, usually reserved for fucked–up line work or a bad batch of ink. She’d been carrying that concern for me, and I’d been too wrapped up to even check in properly.
“Did she say anything else? Did the guy threaten her? The shop?”
“She said he was polite. He just asked questions. But it really spooked her… she’s been jumpy ever since. Yesterday she had the back door locked during business hours, which she never does.”
She let out a harsh sigh. “Look, what the hell is going on? Is this about your new boyfriend? The biker?”
I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the wall. The concrete felt solid. Unlike me.
“It’s… complicated, Nikki. There’s… a conflict. With another group. They’re trying to get to me, to get to him. I think… I think they might have taken Stella to send a message.”
The words sounded insane, even to me. Like a fucking movie. But there it was,
“Jesus Christ,” Nikki murmured. There was no sarcasm left in her, just a hollow fear. “Are serious?”
you
“I wish I wasn’t.” My voice broke on the last word. “Nikki, the security cameras. The system in the shop. Do you have access to the footage from the last couple days?”
“Stella handles all that. From her laptop, which is probably at her apartment. I don’t have a key… I’ve never needed it.” She sounded frustrated. “She’s the boss. She keeps that shit locked down.”
A dead end. Of course.
–
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Listen, if you hear anything anything at all- you call me immediately. Don’t be at the shop alone. Be careful, Nikki. These people… they’re not playing around.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m getting that picture.” She was silent for a second. “What are you gonna do, Hails?”
I looked at my reflection again. The ghost in the mirror had color flooding back into her face. “I’m going to find her.”
I ended the call and let the phone drop into my lap. I could still hear the muffled sounds from the gun range, but they seemed a world away.
Anatoly’s game was so much worse than I’d realized. It wasn’t just about scaring us. It was about systematically severing our connections to the outside world.
Isolating us completely.
He’d started with our businesses, our routines. Now he was moving on to our friends. The people who existed in the fragile space between the club and the rest of our lives.
Stella was mine. A piece of my identity from before Logan, before the club, before the blood stains and bullet wounds. And he’d reached out and plucked her from the world like she was nothing. A move on a chessboard.
A message.
I couldn’t tell Logan. Not yet. The thought of the storm that would break over his face… the instant, volcanic reaction.
He would lock me in this concrete box and throw away the key. He’d divert every resource, every brother, into a frantic, blind search that would probably get more people hurt or killed.
He was already balancing on a knife’s edge. This would push him over.
But I couldn’t do nothing. The guilt was like stomach acid crawling up my esophagus. I had to find a way.
I had to see that security footage. And there was only one person in this club who might be able to help me without immediately sounding the alarm.
Ledger.
By usi shri
He was the tech guy. The one who found blueprints, hacked schedules. If anyone could get into the shop security system, it was him. I just had to get to him.
I stood up. My legs were shaky. I unlocked the door, and the click of the bolt sounded like a starting pistol.
The game had changed. And I was no longer just a piece to be protected. I was a player.
Stepping out of the bathroom was like diving into cold water. The silence of the concrete box was replaced by the shouts and grunts of brothers moving heavy things.
I kept my head down, aiming for the door that led back to the clubhouse. If I could just slip through, subtly locate Ledger…
I’d taken three steps when I felt it a shift in the atmosphere, a specific focus cutting through the general chaos. I looked up instinctively.
Logan was across the room, one hand braced on his cane, the other pointing toward a stack of ammo crates. But he wasn’t looking at the crates. His gaze was locked on me.
Those piercing green eyes, bright and intense. He’d seen me come out of the bathroom. He’d undoubtedly clocked the distressed look on my face. I was never great at hiding my emotions.
He didn’t call out. He just lifted his chin a fraction. A silent command to approach.
My feet carried me toward him on autopilot, weaving through the obstacle course of furniture and supplies. Every step felt exposed. I was sure my guilt was written on my face in neon letters.
As I got closer, I saw the lines of pain around his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. He was running on fumes, but he was focused.
“You were in there a while,” he said. His voice was low, meant only for me. It wasn’t an accusation. Yet.
“Needed a minute,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone that felt a little pathetic. “It’s a lot.”
He didn’t buy it. His eyes scanned my face. He saw the tension in my neck, the way I couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, Ace?”
The question was simple. And it threatened to unravel me. “Nothing. Just… tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”
He reached for me, hooking his free arm around my waist and gently pulling me into him. I stumbled a little, and my hands came up to brace against his chest for a second before reaching around his waist.
The familiar scent of him wrapped around me with his arms. It was usually a comfort, but right now it felt more like a trap.
I hoped he couldn’t feel the frantic pounding of my heart against his ribs. I held my breath, trying to still the panic. His hand splayed against the small of my back, holding me close.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured into my hair.
Adrenaline crash, I guess,” I whispered. The excuse tasted like shit on my tongue. “From last night… everything. It’s all just… hitting me.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, just holding me. I could feel the solid, steady beat of his heart.
He knew I was lying. I could feel the knowledge in the way he held me. But he didn’t say it.
零国
Finally, he loosened his hold, pulling back just enough to look down at me. His gaze was still searching, but the edge had softened. “You need to eat somethin! You only had coffee for breakfast.”
Damn. How did he know that?
Regardless, it was an out. A flimsy rope ladder thrown down from the wall I’d built around myself. I grabbed
- it.
“Yeah,” I said, managing a weak smile. “I was just going to go grab a fresh cup. I’ll eat something while I’m at it.”
He nodded slowly, with his eyes still holding mine. Then he reached for the empty mug he’d left on a nearby crate. He pressed it into my hands. “Grab one for me, too. Please.”
The request was like a test. A simple, domestic errand. Prove you’re okay. Prove you’re just going for coffee. The weight of the mug in my hand felt like a contract.
“Sure,” I said, my voice thankfully steady.
I turned away from him, feeling the heat of his gaze on my back all the way to the door. I didn’t look back.
I almost jogged through the garage, and then the quiet of the clubhouse hallway swallowed me. I leaned against the wall for a second trying to steady my heart.
The mug in my hand was a lie. The coffee was a lie. Everything was a lie, and the foundation of my wall was starting to crack.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
