There are other memories too. Especially of Priest. My father used to sit at the end of the bar every day. It was always his spot and his face floats across my mind as I stare at the empty seat. How much everything has changed.

When he was alive, he had Daimon’s position of Treasurer while Ty’s father was President until his death. They were both taken out when a rival club opened fire on them at a bike rally. The Sons burnt that club to the ground in the years after, Tyler leading from the president seat, which he took shortly after his father was gunned down. Ty rebuilt the ranks and restored peace to the club.

I hate that my memory of my father is hazy, and grows hazier with each passing year. One thing I do remember is that he was amazing with numbers and figures in a way I could never be. He’s been dead years now, but his memory still lingers. I miss him every day. Had he still been alive, none of this would have happened. He would have been the one to take care of me when Ty was on that run, not Sin.

I push those thoughts aside. Dwelling on the what ifs doesn’t do any good.

As I peer around the room, I see most of the brothers are here, as are a few of the club bunnies. I ignore those skanks and focus on the lads.

“Good to see you back where you belong, Sasha,” Titch says, raising a pint glass in my direction.

“You sticking around then?” Daimon asks, and I nod, but my attention goes to the corner of the room, where Fury is sitting alone, twisting a blade between his hands.

I don’t even think. I cross the room, intending to throw my arms around him and thank him for saving my daughter’s life, but fingers on my bicep pull me up short.

I glance back at Tyler who shakes his head at me. “Fury ain’t going to appreciate you touching him, Sash.”

Right. He doesn’t like that.

“I forgot.”

He runs his fingers over his beard and grabs my hand. “Come on.”

We head over to Fury’s table and Ty pulls up two stools. I take one, he takes the other.

Fury peers up at us. His knife, which he had been sticking in the tabletop, pauses, and I see the confusion in his face.

“Prez?”

Tyler leans forward, clasping his hands together on the tabletop.

“The doc gave us the results of the test. You matched.”

Fury’s brows draw together. “I matched?”

“Yeah, brother.”

He mulls this over for a moment before he says, “Good.”

“You going to be okay with the procedures?” Tyler asks. “There’s going to be needles.”

He stares at the knife in his hand, then his eyes rise to meet mine. “For that little girl, yeah.”

I blink back my tears. He’s never even met her, but because she’s mine, he’s embraced her as family.

“I can’t thank you enough, Fury.”

He grunts, then glances at Tyler. “When?”

“As soon as they have an available spot for you to do the blood test. Whizz might be able to take them instead.”

That would probably be safer for everyone involved. Fury might want to help, but his fear of needles isn’t going to go away.

“What you’re doing will save Lily-May’s life,” I say, swiping at my eyes. “Thank you.”

I watch as Fury twists the knife in his hands, his brow drawing down. “I’ve never saved someone before.”

That thought makes a shiver crawl up my spine. I know these men are not saints. I’ve been around the club for long enough to know that. I know they sometimes do terrible things, that they are all swimming in the blood of people they’ve hurt and killed over the years, but I don’t care. Fury is family and in this life that counts for something. Family always comes first, which makes what Sin did to me worse. He not only shit on Priest’s memory by touching his daughter, but he shit all over his brother by betraying his trust in the worst possible way.

Fury might be cracked, but he’s still family, and that means something.

I don’t care if he slaughtered ten people, hell a thousand people. He’s going to save my daughter’s life. His past means nothing to me.

23

Ravage

I leave Sasha in the common room to attend church, our club meeting. No one but patched brothers and prospects—if they’re invited—attend, and what is talked about never leaves the four walls. It’s where we conduct our business and decide on the direction the club is heading in. Today, there’s only one topic on the agenda—my shithead brother.

“Tell me someone has good fucking news,” I growl out from my place at the head of the table. As my new VP, Nox sits at my right-hand side, Fury, my sergeant-at-arms to my left.

“Little fucker is slippery,” Nox says.

“I did get a bead on him moving into Devils territory,” Daimon adds from further down the table. “I asked Maverick to keep an eye out, but so far no one’s seen shit.”

The Devil’s Dogs are another London-based club we have a tenuous alliance with. I don’t think the Devils would hide my brother and risk pissing us off, not after recovering from their own spat with the Northampton Reapers not that long ago.

I bang my fist on the table and lean across it. “I want that cunt found,” I hiss.

“Do you want to tell us why you’re so hell-bent on finding him?” Titch asks with a hint of steel in his voice.

I know the lads are getting restless, that they can feel something brewing. I know it because I can feel it too. A storm is coming, and I don’t know when, but I know it’s going to destroy everything it touches when it lands. Finding my brother before it starts is the key to keeping bloodshed to a minimum.

“It ain’t my story to tell, but just know he did something he can’t come back from. I want his fucking colours and I want his life.”

“Does this have anything to do with Sash being back in town?” Daimon presses, flicking his ash into the ashtray on the tabletop before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

When he gives me his eyes, I see the hardness there—not for me, but for the thought something might have happened to Sasha. Their loyalty to her is a relief to see, especially after I spent the past few years talking her down.

“Just fucking find Sin, yeah?” I snap out. “Let me worry about Sash.” I drag my fingers through my hair, which is loose of the tie. “He shouldn’t be this fucking hard to pin down.”

“The bloke is resourceful,” Levi says, “I’ll give him that.”

Too resourceful. How is he managing to evade us when we have everyone looking? I can’t stop the rage from roaring through me. I shove my feet and kick the chair back out of the way before slamming a hand on the table so hard the pain reverberates up my arm.

“Widen the search. Put out a reward for information on him,” I yell. “I want him fucking found!”

“We’ll find him,” Nox says, his voice low, trying to calm my anger. It doesn’t work. I’m too fired up.

“He’s a fucking risk to Sasha and my daughter! So, you find him and you fucking find him fast. I don’t care if we have to tear London apart to get him. Anyone hiding him is fucking dead. Anyone helping him is fucking dead. Do you hear me?”