It took an hour to get to Spawn headquarters, but to Silas, it felt like a year. By the time they roared into their seedy neighborhood in the neighboring country, he was ready to drive his bike headfirst into their clubhouse. Guns out. No survivors.

 

Fuck negotiations, fuck civility. The Wicked Spawn had breached every code that ever existed in the history of MCs. This was their last fuckup. The Death Knells would take them down.

 

Silas slowed on the bike, bouncing slightly as he went over jagged potholes and inexplicable missing pieces of road. The whole neighborhood reeked of shadiness. No wonder these creeps had picked this street as their headquarters. The perfect place to head the cesspool that was Wicked Spawn.

 

When the entrance to the clubhouse parking lot came into view, he slowed. Chain-link fencing bordered the small property, weeds growing unchecked from inside cracks in the cement. The trail of club brothers behind him slowed as well.

 

“Let’s block the driveway,” Silas said, jerking his chin toward the entry. “We don’t want these guys getting out.” He parked his bike at the far end of the entrance, his front tire jutting up onto the sidewalk, and the rest of the brothers filed in beside him. They formed a human and metal chain. Silas nodded, swinging his leg over the bike.

 

The clubhouse sat in front of them, the crumbling, white brick and clapboard embarrassment just a hundred feet back from the street. Silas tugged up his jeans, walking toward the front door before he could even make the decision to move. Jessa was in here somewhere. That was all he needed to know.

 

His brothers fanned out behind him, taking up various posts between Silas and their bikes. The property seemed quiet, almost abandoned, like every Spawn in existence was out running an errand. Silas pounded as hard as he could on the front door. Showing up like this, unannounced to a rival’s clubhouse, was one of the biggest no-no’s in club life. You needed either an invitation or urgent bad news. But Wicked Spawn threw out the rulebook when they kidnapped Jessa.

 

The door creaked open a moment later, and Silas grabbed the collar of the guy who appeared. A surprised looking Spawn stared up at him. A young guy, probably a prospect. Of course the cowardly Spawn would send this person to answer their door the day they kidnap the Death Knells’ president’s old lady.

 

“Where is she?” Silas snarled out.

 

The kid looked confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had a kutte on, but without turning him around, Silas couldn’t tell if this was a prospect or not.

 

“Your fucking brothers kidnapped my old lady. Where the fuck is she?”

 

“I don’t know, I swear—”

 

Silas whipped out his gun, held it up the guy’s temple. “Bring her to me, or I will shoot you.”

 

“Silas,” Tiny said from behind, caution in his voice. “Cool it, brother. We’re on their territory.” In a lower voice, he said, “This could be a trap.”

 

Silas’ hand shook with the effort of not pulling the trigger. And then he did anyway, aimed at the prospect’s foot. The blast echoed through the room and Silas watched the back doors carefully for any reaction, any movement. Maybe Tiny was right. Maybe those assholes were drawing him in, provoking him further, waiting for a chance to ambush.

 

The prospect howled in pain, stumbling away, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Silas burst into the front room. “Jessa? Jessa, can you hear me?”

 

The clubhouse was eerily quiet. As he waited for any sort of reaction, minus the continued wails of the prospect, he stepped forward carefully. Tiny and a couple brothers trailed him, the four of them scanning all the doors for movement. The inside of the clubhouse smelled like sweat and hangovers. Empty bottles littered the floor, and one of the doors leading deeper into the clubhouse hung crooked. Dull green shag carpet stared up at them. This clubhouse was a joke. Just like its owners.

 

“Silas!” Butch from outside beckoned him, and Silas headed for the door. Just as he stepped onto the creaking front porch of the clubhouse, the roar of motorcycle engines told him what he needed to know.

 

The scene outside was chaos. Spawn flooded past on their bikes, which explained the empty clubhouse, and leaving the dumb prospect to open the door to a house that was being evacuated. Silas scanned the bikes for any trace of Jessa. The Knells’ brothers watched as the Spawn drove past. Silas held his breath as a bike approached the wall the Knells’ built with their motorcycles.

 

And instead of slowing, the leader barreled ahead. Silas broke out into a run toward their parked bikes when he realized what would happen.

 

The frontline Spawn rammed his bike into the farthest parked bike, causing a domino effect that made the Knells bikes go thud thud thud down onto the sidewalk. Tiny and the others shouted as they ran toward their toppled motorcycles.

 

And the Spawn still made it out somehow. Whether by careful navigating or sheer luck, they maneuvered their way through the toppled wall of bikes and poured out onto the street, one after the other. As Silas ran to pick up his motorcycle and start chasing the Spawns, he caught a glimpse of Jessa.

 

Her arms were wrapped around an asshole Spawn’s body, her big eyes wide and fearful as their gazes locked for a fraction of a second. The bike she was on was buried in the pack, like all the Spawn were guarding her against being rescued. As soon as he spotted her, he lost her again. Anger roared through him, and he pushed his bike up with a growl.

 

All his Knells brothers did the same, grunting and heaving to right their fallen motorcycles. As Silas backed his bike up onto the street, he leaned toward Butch, who was closest.

 

“You stay here,” he shouted over the din of disappearing Spawn bikes. “And torch the place.”

 

The words alone had a calming effect. That, if nothing else, would begin to even the playing field. Let those assholes come home to nothing – because when they fucked with his old lady, Silas would make sure they paid.

 

It didn’t matter that they’d married for her protection. It didn’t matter he’d thought that with Jessa it would just be fun until it ended.

 

Now she was his. And nobody fucked with what was his.

 

His bike sputtered, then he zoomed off, his brothers trailing him in hot pursuit of the escaping Spawns.

 

***

 

Jessa pinched her eyes shut against the wind, ducking her head behind the back of the Spawn driving the bike. He’d tied her hands together in front of him, a way to make sure she stayed put. Because God knew she wouldn’t hang on of her own accord.

 

She’d seen Silas and the rest of the Knells by the Spawn headquarters as her kidnapper drove off. Just seeing Silas had given her hope. She imagined looking at his face in her mind’s eye… Saw the rough edges of his cut, the square jaw, the way those ice-blue eyes could drill a hole through her. She swallowed hard, tensing as the Spawn swung out to follow a curve in the road.

 

If she practiced seeing Silas in her mind, maybe the visualization would help make him real. She drew deep breaths, counting to ten over and over again as she imagined his sturdy body, that same fierceness in his eyes as the morning he’d drawn a gun on her in her house when she’d gotten up too early and scared him.

 

He had to save her.

 

Her thoughts drifted to the future, trying to imagine what life would look like after this. Planning for regular life again almost seemed like a joke, but she had to think positively. She imagined telling Silas about the baby; what his reaction would be. She imagined herself nine months pregnant and practically bursting. She imagined holding her baby for the first time, and Silas’ joy. She imagined him being a doting father and an even better husband.

 

The thoughts jarred a strange warmth through her. Did she want to be with Silas long-term?

 

The motorcycle slowed slightly, and she looked up, trying to gauge where they were. Everything looked unfamiliar. Skinny trees lined the road, and the pack of bikes surrounding her had thinned considerably. Behind them, there were no Knells.

 

Her heart in her throat, she craned her neck trying to see where they might have gone. How they could have disappeared? The road dipped and curved more frequently, the air chillier here because of all the shade from the towering birch trees. She turned around, chest rising and falling as she tried to concoct a scenario in which the Spawn could have lost the Knells.

 

So much for visualization. She’d been lost in la-la land so hard she missed the important events around her. She fought tears, panic sinking into her, making her limbs heavy.

 

Seeing Silas and the rest of the Death Knells in hot pursuit had convinced her everything would be fine. Of course Silas would come to her rescue. Of course the bad guys couldn’t win. Not when the Death Knells were the good guys. Not when Silas was so strong, and sure, and commanding.

 

But now, she wasn’t so sure.

 

Klay’s bike slowed again, and he took a hard turn into the parking lot of a little motel. Gravel sprayed behind them as he maneuvered into what looked to be an abandoned motel. Maybe Wicked Spawn owned this spot. Who knew what number of hidden setups they had throughout their territory. Which would make hunting Jessa down all the more difficult for Silas and the brothers.

 

Klay pulled into an empty spot facing the weathered building, each dingy door boasting peeling numbers. When he cut the bike, he turned to Jessa and silenced her with a look.

 

“If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

 

All she could do was stare back at him. His threat had cut deep, and she knew better than to test him. Besides, if she screamed, would anyone hear her? She glanced around. Birch and pine trees lined a lonely highway, with a mostly dark motel; the front desk probably empty, abandoned. This had to be one of their safe spots – Jessa knew all about those growing up in an MC. So, she was about to be off the map. Probably the phones didn’t work inside; they’d be lucky to have plumbing. The perfect spot for the Spawn to do what they wished with her.

 

She swallowed back a tight knot of anxiety. Being alone in yet another tiny room with this man, or any of his club brothers, sparked a desperate, hot fear inside her. She could only imagine the ways they might pass her around. The unspeakable things they’d perform in order to get back at Silas.

 

Tears pressed at her eyes. A few spilled out, but Klay didn’t care. He undid the knot at her wrists but kept her locked under his grip, jerking her off the bike so hard she almost toppled to the ground. He led her toward one of the doors, fishing a key card out of his pocket. He swiped the door open and pushed her inside. She stumbled into the poorly lit hotel room, a musty smell washing over her. She hugged herself as she watched Klay and a few others file in.

 

When the door shut behind them, her stomach turned into an iron fist. Here it was. The moment they finally raped or killed her. Maybe they’d live stream it just for fun, her last moments broadcast to a willing public. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to make peace with it.

 

As long as the baby made it out okay. If she didn’t struggle, it might help the baby survive.

 

Klay spun her around, pushing her toward the bathroom. He flicked on the light and the fan, and then shoved her inside.

 

“Make sure you get ready for us.” He licked his lips and made a display of grabbing the grimy crotch of his jeans. “Because we’re gonna have a lot to give you.”

 

Just as Jessa pulled a face, he slammed the door shut. A scraping from his side of the door told her he’d locked her inside somehow.

 

She stood, chest heaving, staring at the door. Was that it? Would they just leave her here? Oh Lord, if only she could get so lucky. From outside, she could hear the low undertones of voices. An occasional laugh. She sat rigidly on the edge of the bathtub, too anxious and scared to relax. Every minute that passed without assault was a miracle. But it couldn’t last forever.

 

Maybe this was worse than something actually happening to her. The not knowing. The planning and wondering. She balled her hands into fists, every cell of her body stiff and alert.

 

And then she closed her eyes again… and practiced seeing Silas.

 

Her husband. Her lover. Her savior.