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I can’t let this happen.
Dread seizes my heart. The cartel and Control are joining forces to snuff out the other club.
Control won’t care if he uses up half his men to do it.
My vision blurs with tears of rage and sorrow. I have to warn them to rally our forces against this impending storm.
I listen further, committing every detail to memory.
Eventually, they leave, still talking about taking over the Birmingham drug trade.
I give it a long moment to make sure they’re truly gone, then slip out into the main meeting room. Outside the bathroom, I draw a deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. Fear gnaws at the edges of my resolve, but I refuse to succumb.
My jaw tightens, and determination fuels my every move. I won’t let fear dictate my actions.
I need to get out of here.
But first, I have to protect the Burning Heretics from Control’s plan.
And to do that, I need to learn what he knows about The Sons of Gods club.
My stomach twists, and I head back toward his office, hoping I’ll be able to find what I’m looking for in his files.
* * *
In Control’s office, I avoid turning on the light, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention.
I grew up in the clubhouse.
I know Control’s filing system.
If I’m going to protect our own motorcycle club from Control’s plan to go to war with the Sons of Gods, I need to know what he knows about them—about their leader, their members, their role in the Birmingham drug trade that Control so desperately wants to take over.
As I search through the stacks of files in the dark, I hear footsteps approaching. I freeze, holding my breath, and wait for whomever it is to pass. When the footsteps fade away, I resume my search.
I finally find what I’m looking for: a file on the Sons of Gods leader, a man whose club name is Zeus. I pull it out and begin to read, my heart racing with adrenaline.
Zeus is a formidable opponent. He’s smart, ruthless, and highly skilled with weapons. He’s also charismatic, with a loyal following of bikers who will do anything for him. Not only that, but he has direct ties with the Satan’s Raiders MC out in Los Angeles because his brother used to be the president, and now his nephew is the president. My father even has notes on how they are allies with the Reapers Rejects MC and the Skulls Renegade MC. There are mentions of possible alliances with other clubs, but my father has question marks next to their names. God, this is bad. This is really bad.
It’s no wonder that Control sees him as a threat to his own power.
Zeus is a big fish, and if Control can take him down, the rest of the club will fall like dominoes.
I flip through the file, scanning the contents. There are addresses of clubhouses, names of members . . . and photos of Zeus.
I freeze and pull the photo out.
It’s an older photo from when Zeus was in his thirties or forties.
And I’m looking at a dead-ringer for Leon.
What the actual hell?
Why does my new boyfriend look exactly like the leader of the Sons of Gods motorcycle club?
Could this really be a coincidence?
The weight of my responsibilities presses heavily upon me.
