Silas could barely think straight for the first few hours after the Spawns threw the Knells off their tails. The assholes had been too ingenious, leading the Knells to a fork in the road and forcing the Knells to split up or take a gamble.

 

Silas took a gamble. They’d been moving too quickly, and Silas thought he knew where Jessa was between the two groups. And if any fight broke out, he’d need all his men behind him.

 

But he’d fucked up. He chose wrong. And the Spawn pod he’d followed had led them right back into town. A dead end.

 

The only consolation prize Silas could conceive of was the fact that sooner or later, the Spawns would know their clubhouse had burnt down. He almost wished he could orchestrate the big reveal, like the way some people threw surprise parties. What he wouldn’t give to see their bastard president cry like a baby. After Silas got done beating him to a pulp, of course.

 

He and the club brothers were parked at a gas station on the outskirts of town. Time was slipping away, but he had no idea where to go from here. The wrong choice and it could cost them Jessa’s life. But if he continued making no choice, it was as bad as making the wrong one.

 

“Boss.” Tiny sent him a worried look as he propped his elbows up on his handlebars. “We need to hit the road, one way or the other. It’s getting dark soon.”

 

Silas ran a hand over his head, anxiety wrenching his insides. They’d come so far, it seemed stupid to go home. Enough brothers were back at the clubhouse, they could keep watch.

 

“We need to stay here,” he finally said, “or at least nearby.” His gut had been in a constant state of upheaval since discovering Jessa had been kidnapped. Somewhere between the flu and the worst hangover of his life.

 

“I saw a motel a few miles back,” Butch offered. “Wanna crash there?”

 

Silas nodded, and the group headed out. The evening air was rapidly turning dusky, a little chill biting at his forearms. Silas drew deep breaths, trying to keep his mind from imagining the worst. From being realistic about what those Spawn assholes would do to his Jessa.

 

Up ahead, the motel sat squat and unimposing. Blue siding had faded to a color not found in any Crayola box. Silas and the brothers formed a long row with their bikes. While Tiny went inside to talk to reception, Silas leaned against his bike, sighing heavily.

 

“I can’t believe I let them get away,” Silas muttered, voicing the thought that had been repeating itself nearly a billion times in his headspace.

 

“We’ll find her,” Butch said quietly, squeezing his shoulder. “We got this far; we ain’t going home without her.”

 

Silas’ throat squeezed as an unsavory thought butted its way into his head: Hopefully she comes home with us alive.

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. The county road the motel sat on was somewhere deep in Spawn territory, but a part of their county Silas didn’t know well. The Spawn had used this to their advantage. They had the upper hand here, and now that Silas was lost he didn’t even know which way made the most sense from here. Every direction was fair game when the Spawn had carried Jessa to an unknown destination.

 

Worries made sick swirls inside him. Only when he heard the rumbling of a bike did he look up.

 

It wasn’t one of their bikes, but rather, someone zooming down the road toward the motel. Silas perked up, breath sticking in his throat as the bike sped past, leather kutte plain as day, even in the waning sunset.

 

“That was Spawn,” Silas said, his voice a croak as he fumbled to swing his leg over his bike.

 

Butch immediately climbed on his own bike. Silas peeled out of the gravel parking lot in a cloud of dust, his racing heart setting a fast pace as he gunned it after the disappearing bike.

 

He didn’t know where he’d end up, but he’d follow that motherfucker until he couldn’t anymore. If it weren’t for these Spawn assholes acting up, he’d be sitting with Jessa at home right now. Maybe on the couch, or in bed already, massaging her legs, or tugging playfully at her panties. Maybe making her chicken noodle soup – if she was still sick.

 

The thought made him ride harder. They weren’t taking her away from him, not for much longer. Not when he’d managed to find the one sweet, pure thing in his life. A love, against all odds.

 

His eyes burned with unshed tears as he caught up with the Spawn. A lone rider. The Spawn had noticed him by now, and his driving became erratic. Weaving across the road, like escaping imaginary obstacles, passing traffic on both sides.

 

Silas kept pace, weighing his options. The road petered out to mostly woods and the occasional semi after a while. He glanced behind him – saw just Butch and one other Knell trailing him. Silas unsheathed his pistol, keeping it low at his side as the Spawn continued to race ahead of him.

 

Shooting the fucker’s tires out might be the only chance he had. Even if this were a wild goose chase – taking one Spawn down would do a hell of a lot more for morale than wringing his hands all night in the motel.

 

The waning daylight made it hard to keep focused on both the curving road and the lines of the Spawn’s motorcycle. But Silas lined up the shot. Pop. He missed, the bullet glancing off the side of the bike’s fender.

 

But the Spawn was on to him now. He started driving more erratically. Silas couldn’t focus the shot and keep himself upright at the same time. He cursed, and then took a shot. And another. Both misses.

 

From behind, Butch gave it a go. His bullet missed entirely. Silas gripped the handlebars tightly, the leather gloves suctioning to his knuckles. There was no fucking up this time. He had to get that Spawn.

 

He lined up the gun and took the shot. The bullet hit the back tire. Success. The tire popped loudly, rubber deflating and reduced to a flapping, useless mess. Silas quickly caught up with him and shot his front tire for good measure.

 

Butch and another club brother, PJ, flanked the Spawn; the four of them guided him off the side of the road, and before he could do much of anything, Silas had him by the collar of his jacket. Somehow Silas managed to park his own bike and not let the bastard Spawn escape. He yanked him off the bike while Butch and PJ oversaw with their arms crossed.

 

“Where are you going, friend?” Silas punched him in the gut, pleased as he groaned and doubled over.

 

“Nowhere,” he gasped out.

 

“Then how about you tell me your name?”

 

“Fuck you,” the Spawn muttered.

 

Silas socked him in the gut again, and this time the Spawn coughed.

 

“Now I’ll ask you again. Where are you going?”

 

“Nowhere,” the Spawn insisted.

 

Silas sighed, tightening his grip on the neck of his jacket. “I don’t like being lied to. And more than that, I don’t like being stolen from. Or cheated.” Silas reached for the gun stuck in the waist of his jeans. “But what I really hate, above all that…” He released the trigger of the gun, bringing it up to the Spawn’s temple. “What I hate more than all of that is when Spawn motherfuckers kidnap my old lady.”

 

Silas pressed the barrel of the gun harder to the Spawn’s head.

 

Fear flashed across the other man’s face, and he wilted a bit. “I don’t know anything, man,” he said.

 

“Bullshit. You were on your way there now. Where else could you be going?”

 

“Headquarters.”

 

“And more bullshit. The place is torched, and you know it.” Silas kneed him between the legs.

 

The Spawn doubled over, his dark hair matted to his forehead from sweat. While he was bent over, Silas pushed him to the ground, pinning him there with a knee to his chest.

 

“I don’t want to have to kill you,” Silas lied. “I just want to make you suffer, like my girl is suffering.”

 

“I swear I don’t know anything about your girl.” The Spawn’s chest was heaving, looking up at Silas with pleading eyes.

 

Silas looked up as the headlights of a semi crested the road. He leaned back a bit until the truck passed, then realized they needed to take this party elsewhere. He couldn’t properly deal with this asshole the way he needed to on the side of the road.

 

Silas forced him to stand, jamming his gun into the small of his back to lead him toward the trees lining the road. Butch and PJ followed closely behind, faces expressionless as Silas pushed the guy into the woods.

 

The Spawn broke into a run suddenly, gunning for an escape. Silas shot him in the foot without even thinking. The second Spawn that day to come down from a gunshot wound in the foot. As the Spawn lay writhing on the ground, Silas strutted up to him, grinning.

 

“Now.” He knelt down beside the Spawn, patting the kutte and the pockets of his jeans as he looked for a wallet or phone. “How about we call your president?”

 

The Spawn shook his head, trying to jerk away from Silas’ wandering hands. But the Spawn couldn’t ease his aching foot and wriggle away from Silas at the same time. Silas finally found his wallet and phone buried in the same pocket. He fished them out, signaling for Butch and PJ to come hold him down.

 

Silas flipped through the wallet, squinting to read the small print on the ID. His legal name was Jack. Silas laughed, tossing the wallet down onto the ground beside him.

 

“Well, Jack.” Silas opened the phone, swiping through contacts, trying to find something that looked like the president, Klay. The entry ‘Prez’ looked promising. Something niggled at the back of his mind. He opened up Jack’s messages – saw the most recent message received was from ‘Prez’. Twenty minutes ago. An address and a name: Old Pine Motel.

 

Silas tamped down the excitement. That had to be where they’d taken Jessa. It had to be where Jack was racing off to. With a furtive glance to his brothers, Silas grinned down at Jack as he initiated a video call. “Time to talk to your president.”

 

The video call picked up on the second ring. Klay’s gruff voice sounded annoyed. “Yeah.”

 

Aiming the camera down at himself from above Silas ground his heel into Jack’s wounded foot. Jack’s wail pierced the night air.

 

“I need to talk to you, Klay.” Silas focused the camera on himself. “I need you to let Jessa go.”

 

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line. Some swearing.

 

“Like hell I am.” Klay’s bloated, scowling face filled the screen. “You got my boy? Fine. You ain’t never getting your girl.”

 

“Wow. Such loyalty.” Silas faced the camera toward Jack. “You hear that, Jack? Your president doesn’t give a shit if you die.”

 

Jack let a low moan, sounding feral.

 

“If that’s the case, might as well just put him out of his misery.” Silas brought the camera lens his way. His fingers twitched with the urge to hop on his bike and head right for the address in Jack’s messages. “Right?”

 

“I might think twice if I were you.” Klay gestured off camera. A moment later, Jessa was thrust into view. She looked haggard and timid. His heart sunk all the way to his feet. What had they done to her?

 

A cold fear slithered through him. “Jessa!” He couldn’t keep himself from calling out to her. The break in his façade made Klay sneer.

 

“She’s been mighty nice to us,” Klay said, forcing her to sit down on his lap. Jessa struggled to free herself from his grip, but Klay held on, locked tight. Rage bubbled in Silas’ chest. His jaw ground as he watched Klay sling an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Don’t you touch her,” Silas warned.

 

“And why shouldn’t I? I told you: she’d fit in real nice with some buddies of mine. That’s where we’re taking her.” Klay’s hand snaked down between her breasts.

 

Silas squeezed the phone so tight he thought it might snap in half. “Klay, you motherfucker—”

 

“In fact, maybe you should watch this.” Klay let a sick chuckle, handing the phone to someone else to hold. There was a rustling at the phone, and a moment later he got a full view of Klay and Jessa. She had her eyes pinched shut, body wracked with silent sobs.

 

“You lay a hand on her,” Silas said, his voice raw, “and he dies right now.” He held his gun up, aimed between Jack’s eyes, even though Klay couldn’t see it. “Klay! I’m warning you!” His voice was pitching up, but his anger was well past controlling now.

 

On the video call, Klay made a display of cutting Jessa’s shirt down the middle with a long knife. She let a strangled sob, turning away from him, but he yanked her into place.

 

“Say hi to your sweetie for me,” he stage-whispered. The evil gleam in his eye pierced Silas all the way through, worse than a gunshot wound.

 

“Silas, stop this.” Butch yanked the phone from his grip, ending the call. “You can’t watch that shit. You’re playing right into it.”

 

Silas drew a deep breath, unable to erase the images from his mind. But the address from Jack’s phone pulsed inside him like a forgotten promise. He had a plan. Jessa was within arm’s reach. He could save her.

 

He turned to look at Jack. Silas shook his head slowly, sent up a prayer, and put a bullet between the Spawn’s eyes. A tight knot inside him unraveled slightly. It wasn’t the person that mattered most, but it was a start to taking down all the Wicked Spawn until none remained.

 

“Let’s hit the road.” Silas strode back to the bike, stuffing the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “I found an address on that phone. I think it’ll take us to Jessa. PJ, call the rest. We’ll need back up.”