At least I’m still breathing. I’ll take that as a win.

I fumble in the dark and manage to find the switch for the bedside lamp. It floods the room with light and chases some of the shadows away, but the demons still linger on the edges, taunting me.

On shaky legs, I get to my feet and stumble over to the window, pulling the curtain back. There’s no way out. I can’t escape.

Tears prick my eyes and I stare out of the window for so long that my eyes start to get heavy, but then in the dawn light, something catches my attention. Movement.

A sea of people are breaking into the main grounds. There’s so many, I can’t count them all.

As they get closer my breath gets caught in my throat as tears burn my cheeks. I pick him out easily from the crowd. I could recognise him anywhere.

Nox.

28

Nox

As soon as my shoulder is patched up, Rav gets on the phone to the other Untamed Sons chapters. We have clubs scattered around the whole UK, so we call each one and see who can spare men. If Isaac Blackwood wants a war, we’ll fucking give him one, but it will be the full force of the Sons coming down on him. Birmingham, Manchester, Bristol and Cardiff empty their clubhouses and ride to London. Newcastle, York, Leicester and Glasgow too. We call up a few local support clubs, who agree to join us, and call in a couple of markers with the Devil’s Dogs, another club local to the area. Maverick, their president, isn’t fucking happy about getting involved, but a marker is a marker and he’s a man of his word.

It takes most of the day and into the early hours of the morning for everyone to arrive. Seven hours for the Glasgow boys to get here, five for the Newcastle brothers. They ride nonstop, not even taking a break at one of the many service stations they will have passed on the way down. I’m grateful as fuck, because the whole time I’m waiting, I can feel my sanity fraying. Blackwood has had Lucy for too long now, and as dawn looms on the horizon, my fear turns dark. He’s had her all day and night. There’s a lot of damage he can do in that time, and that makes me want to roar with rage.

I’m standing outside the clubhouse, looking at the rows and rows of Harleys. I’ve never seen the parking area so full before. The street outside the clubhouse is also jammed with bikes filling every inch of available space. If I wasn’t so fucking on edge, I might have taken a moment to appreciate seeing this many hogs all together.

Grub, Birmingham’s VP, is standing talking with Rav and Howler, President of the Manchester chapter. Growing up in the club and now as a patched member, I’ve got to know most of the men of our other chapters well over the years. Grub has been a constant feature, coming to cook outs, taking runs to London, doing whatever the mother chapter demanded. He’s a loyal brother. He’s also one of the oldest members in the Sons. He’s got to be pushing seventy now, but he looks closer to fifty. His salted hair is long, worn in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his beard is bigger than Rav’s. For an old guy, he looks in good shape, with no hint of a gut, and a frame that suggests he still keeps himself fit. He’s wearing a leather jacket, his kutte over the top declaring his affiliation to the Sons and to Birmingham. Howler has Manchester on his.

Seeing this many brothers coming to our aid fills my stomach with warmth.

“How you holding up?” I jolt as Daimon comes to stand beside me, leaning against the wall.

“I’ll feel better when we’re on the road.”

“You ain’t riding, are you?”

As if my shoulder knows we’re talking about it, it throbs suddenly. Fucker.

“I’m going in the van with Kyle.”

Humiliating as that might be, I don’t give a shit how I get there, as long as I do. Rav had been adamant about me not getting on the back of a bike, and I wasn’t going to argue it with him. I can hardly lift my arm and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I would be a danger to myself and my brothers right now and with this many bikes riding in formation it would be fucking stupid to even try. Besides, I have no idea what state Lucy will be in, but if she can’t be on the back of my bike, I want to be with her in the van.

Daimon seems to relax at my admission. “We’ll get her back, brother.”

I nod. We will, but in what condition. I stop my thoughts dead, not wanting to go there right now. I don’t need that kind of darkness filling my brain. I need to be focused on Lucy and getting her back.

“Pretty much everyone is here,” Day remarks.

We’re the national chapter, so if Rav calls, they come, but I like to think it’s more than that. We’re a brotherhood not just in our club, the London chapter, but across all chapters. I would die for Grub as much as I would for Day.

“Yeah.”

Rav’s voice raises, drawing my attention. “Time to roll, boys.”

Finally. My stomach twitches and my throat clogs as I push off the wall. Daimon does the same, but I stop him before he can walk away.

“Don’t get yourself fucking killed, yeah?”

His lips twitch. “You neither.”

He walks over to his bike and I watch as my brothers from across the country mount up before I head over to the van and climb in. Each chapter has their own recovery van, their prospects driving them, in case something happens to one of the bikes. Hopefully nothing will, but it’s best to be prepared.

I pull my seatbelt on and adjust my kutte.

Then the bikes roar to life, like a great symphony. I relish the sound. It’s a balm to my soul, and it has me grinning. I turn to Kyle who is watching the scene with a flash of excitement in his eyes.

“The Sons ride,” I tell him.

His mouth pulls into a smirk and I feel the pride hit me in the chest like a wrecking ball. This is what I stand for. This is what I joined the Sons for—brotherhood.

The first bikes move out of the parking area and onto the main road. With a group this size, it would usually take a little time to get everyone into position, but there isn’t time for that, so Rav heads the column, Fury on his tail, Day, Levi and Whizz following. Titch, as Road Captain, waits behind, watching as more brothers from other chapters follow.

It takes just over ten minutes for the clubhouse to empty out and for the bikes lining the road to join the procession. The vans go last and I feel an itchy need to get there faster than we are.

We ride through allied territories, probably cleared by Titch before the first rider mounted up, and we head towards Isaac’s property. My knee jiggles as I stare out of the side window, my thoughts focused on Lucy.

I pull my gun from under my kutte and check it’s loaded.

“Lucy yours?” Kyle asks. He runs his hand over his hair and his teeth scrape over his lip piercing, moving the ring around.

I like him. As prospects go, he’s solid and unflappable. I have no doubt the fucker would have my back if shit went down, and more importantly I trust him to have it. He’s a big bloke with dark eyes and dark skin. He’s also a hell of a fighter, which is how Sin, our former VP, found the kid. He was fighting in underground fight clubs from the age of sixteen and he was fucking good at it too. If he hadn’t patched in, the kid could have gone far in that world, but Kyle knew what he wanted and that was the Sons. He took the prospect patch as soon as he turned eighteen and has been a fucking asset to the club ever since.