Raised voices sound nearby, waking me from my semiconscious state. Feeling pain throughout my body, I groan and struggle to open my swollen eyes. As I manage to open one, everything comes flooding back to me, hitting me like a Mack truck and panic surges through me as I fear for Cobra’s little girl.

“Skylar,” I shout against the darkness.

No one responds, but the hollering that woke me comes to a pause. Knowing I have that cocksucker Rush’s attention or at least the attention of his goons, I ball my chained fists, slam them against the chair they’re bound to and deliver a warning.

“You’re a dead man, motherfucker. Forget me, if you think Parrish will let you get away with taking Cobra’s girl you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

I strain my ears to listen for a response but all I hear are Skylar’s cries. Helpless and fearing the worst, I release a stream of curses as I try to break free. I push my weight forward and the legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floorboards, moving me a couple of inches from where I was.

It’s no use.

My hands are tied, my ankles shackled. Even if I make it to the door, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

I can’t save Skylar. I can only pray her father does. It’s almost comical to think a man who sits at Satan’s table is asking God for a favor. About to send up an amen, I hear the bitch who caused this whole fucking nightmare scream. Anger boils in my veins as she continues to shoot off at the mouth. Resolving that I don’t give a fuck what she’s crying about, that she’s probably begging for poison, I ignore her and divert my eyes away from the door. 

Light streams from behind me, temporarily blinding me. Listening closely, I notice there are no sounds of the city surrounding me and it’s safe to assume the light streaming toward the window is radiating off the headlights of a car.

My eyes adjust to the light and I glance around the room, trying to make out where this fucking bastard is holding us. I don’t get to look at much as my entire body freezes when my gaze locks on the wall in front of me. Lined with newspaper clippings and photographs, the entire wall is a shrine to one face.

One pair of soulless eyes.

Eyes that call to the darkest part of my soul, the part I thought died the day Chelsea did.

Realizing the crazy bastard is obsessed with Ally, I concede she isn’t just some club whore and focus on the drawing centered on the wall. A younger version of the girl with blue eyes, an unscarred version stares back at me.

She was pretty.

Real fucking pretty for a kid, and her smile, her smile was unforgettable.

Alongside the drawing of the young girl is another one. The woman portrayed in charcoal was meant to resemble the one screaming in the next room, but life had played her dirty. A shame too because judging by the sketch, Ally could’ve been a knockout if she hadn’t become a fuck up.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, trying to make sense of it all. My head hollers for me to mind my business, to forget the bitch who ran her mouth and put me in these chains. I tell myself she’s not my concern, she’s just a troll who isn’t worth my spit. But my conscious wages a war, daring me to read beyond the black and white lines and uncover the gray areas everyone seemed to ignore. Curiously, I silence the voice in my head and allow myself to wonder what happened to the young girl in the drawing. Peeling my gaze away from the photographs, I read the headlines.

Twin missing: Gone without a trace.

Fourteen-year-old girl abducted outside a pizzeria.

Family offers reward.

NYPD closes case on Alexandria Richardson.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head and look back at the drawings. Cobra’s voice sounds in my head as my mind flashes back to the day he revealed his truth to the club. Remembering the grief that poured from his eyes and the desperation laced with his words as he relived his past, sharing the tragedy that took his twin sister from him and left his family destroyed.

My thoughts are interrupted as a loud crash sounds from beyond the door.

Ally screams.

Glass shatters.

Skylar cries.

Another crash.

I can hear shouting and the familiar voices of my brothers. For a moment, I wonder if God truly exists and why he took pity on me and answered my prayer. Then I forget about the almighty Father as I hear Jack threaten to blow off Ally’s head.

In a single moment, the wind doesn’t just change, the whole fucking world turns on its axis.

“Where’s the baby?” Jack shouts. “Tell me where the baby is or I’ll splatter your fucking brains across these walls.”

“Let her go, or the baby dies!” Rush hollers back.

Fuck.

To Jack Parrish and his men, Ally is nothing but a whore.

She’s nothing but a menace in the game of mayhem.

She’s not the lost girl.

She’s not the sister Cobra’s been searching twelve years for.

She’s nothing.

To Parrish, Ally is better off dead.

“It’s over Rush. Put the fucking gun down before I blow your whore’s head off her body,” Jack barks.

“Let her go, Parrish, or I’ll fucking kill you and the kid.”

I gotta get out of here.

I gotta tell him who she is.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Ally soothes. “We’re just playing a game.”

Jesus, fuck. She doesn’t even realize that kid she’s playing house with is her fucking niece.

“Game’s over, bitch,” Jack growls.

I scream but my voice is muted against the gunshots blaring outside the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Chaos.

Ally screams again.

Mayhem.

Skylar cries louder.

Hell.

The door flies off the hinges and Bas’ large frame fills the doorway.

“I got him,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Is she okay?”

“The kid’s fine,” he assures me as he lowers his gun and unwinds the chains wrapped around my ankles.

“What about Ally?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he asks, quirking a brow as he lifts his gaze to me. “You realize she’s the bitch that got your ass tied to this fucking chair.”

Ignoring him, I kick the chains away from me as he moves to free my hands.

“Did you know who she was all this time?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks, freeing my right hand. “Did Rush shoot you up too?”

“Look around the room,” I grind out.

I watch as his eyes sweep the room. Judging by the dumb fucked expression on his face, it’s clear he has no fucking clue Ally was kidnapped or that she’s Cobra’s sister.

“Put this whore out of her misery,” Jack orders.

Following the sounds of Ally’s cries, I force my numb legs to move and charge out of the room. I don’t stop until I see her. Hunched over Rush’s dead body, she stares up at the barrel of Blackie’s gun and waits for him to pull the trigger. Done with the torment, wanting out of this life, she begs for it.

She craves death like she craves poison.

“Don’t shoot her,” I shout.

I feel their eyes burn into me as mine land on Ally.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Riggs asks.

“Why the fuck shouldn’t I?” Blackie growls.

Lifting her head, her blue eyes lock with mine and it’s in that moment I know beyond a shadow of doubt, with every fiber of my being, I am fucked because those fucking eyes are my undoing.

Hooked on a sea of blue, drowning in her unshed tears, I say the words that free her from the nightmare she’s been living.

“Because you’d be killing Cobra’s sister,” I rasp.

Alexandria Richardson, the girl who was once lost is now found.

Tearing my eyes away from hers, I glance around at my brothers as they all fire questions at me, but before I can explain Bas shoves the articles into their hands and displays the proof.  Shock and confusion register on each of their faces, but it’s Ally’s expression that strikes a chord with me.

I don’t know if she is incoherent or simply ignoring the revelation, but it’s almost as if she doesn’t want to be found. While none of us may know the details of what happened to her, we know the man she’s crying over, the man she’s distraught over, is the man who has kept her from her life for all these years.

I’m not the only one who recognizes the pain in her eyes.

Jack does too, and he hands Skylar to Bas before he kneels next to Ally. A minute ago he was going to decorate the walls with her brains, now he tries to comfort her, assuring her she’s okay.

And she will be fine because now she’s property of Parrish.

Ain’t that some shit.

Taking her into his arms, he tears Ally off Rush’s dead body and orders us to move, reiterating time isn’t on our side—it never is.

We make our way out of the cabin and I spot the bodies lying in the grass. My ribs ache making it hard to walk, but Riggs throws his arm over my shoulder and ushers me toward the Suburban. To my left, Blackie carries a sleeping Skylar, stepping over one of the bodies. I move closer and pause, recognizing the motherfucker as one of the men who grabbed Skylar from me. Ignoring my bruised ribs, I straighten my shoulders and grimace before I spit in his face.

Fuck you.

“Let’s go,” Riggs grunts, pulling me away. Wolf takes Skylar from Blackie and secures her into a car seat as Ally fights with Jack, begging him not to take her. It dawns on me then that Cobra isn’t here which is probably a blessing in disguise. He gave up half his life avenging her disappearance, and in the beginning he hoped he’d find her and bring her home. I’m sure somewhere in his mind he has dreamt of a perfect reunion, not one where his sister screams and cries for death. In his absence, he gets to hold onto the dream and is spared anymore heartache.

Keeping my eyes pinned to the dark night, I struggle not to glance behind me and watch as Jack struggles to get her in the truck. Part of me wonders if she put up this much of a fight when she was first kidnapped, but I keep that to myself as she finally gives up and Jack slams the door. Instantly, Wolf slams his finger down on the side of the door, securing the locks so she can’t escape and shifts the truck into drive. My eyes shift to the side-view mirror, spotting the cabin I watch it slowly fade from my view as he drives.

We ride silently for over an hour until Ally’s cries subside and she falls asleep. I glance over my shoulder at Skylar and Ally, logging the irony of everything.

“You okay, boy?” Wolf asks. “Looks like those bastards did quite the number on you.”

Twisting around, I suck in a breath and run my hand over my ribs.

“Nothing I won’t survive,” I grunt.

“Your face is fucked.”

“Thanks,” I sneer, shaking my head as his lips quirk slightly. Leave it to the crazy bastard to find humor in all of this.

A moment passes between us and I watch as he draws his lips into a straight line and shakes his head slightly. I know the look, seen it a bunch of times over the last few months. It’s the look he gets when he’s desperate to fix shit, when the weight of the club’s problems weigh too heavily on his shoulders. Wolf might not be the leader of this pack but he’s just as invested as Jack.

Just a few weeks ago, the man nearly lost his shit when the doctors tried to discharge Linc, claiming there was nothing more they could do for him. They didn’t care the man had survived an explosion and was left temporarily paralyzed, all they cared about was a paycheck—one that wouldn’t hit their bank accounts since Linc didn’t have insurance. Wolf didn’t take the news too well and raised hell, demanding they continue to treat him. The loyal bastard mortgaged his house, and right before I left for Albany we got word Linc’s last surgery was scheduled.

The point I’m trying to make is Wolf’s wheels are turning again, and he’s fixing for a way out of this mess, one that keeps all the people in his circle breathing. The thing is; we keep adding lives to our circle, we keep on tacking responsibilities to our shoulders. The club has too many balls floating in the air and Wolf is struggling to keep them all from dropping.

He lifts his right hand from the steering wheel and silently makes the sign of the cross before reaching for the cross tucked beneath his shirt. Bringing the gold crucifix to his lips, he kisses Jesus and sends up a prayer.

“Shit,” I hiss.

“What?”

“It’s gotta be bad when the Satan’s Knights are calling on God to save them,” I comment, turning my attention to the road ahead, realizing hours ago I was doing the same—minus the cross kissing and all that.

“I’m worried about Cobra,” he admits. “Our brother is at the end of his rope.”

“Can you blame him? His daughter was kidnapped, that’s enough to send anyone over the edge. Add a missing sister, two dead parents and a fucking gangster we know jack shit about and you’d be just as fucked.”

“None of it makes sense,” he whispers, glancing into the rearview mirror. “How the fuck is this even possible?”

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “Maybe the bounty hunter is wrong, maybe Vlad has nothing to do with this at all. Rush had a shrine to Cobra’s sister in that cabin. I’m talking newspaper articles that dated back to her disappearance. What if he took her?”

“Then where does that leave the connection between him and Vlad? You saw it yourself on those contracts you stole.”

I don’t answer him because he’s right, we’re missing something, a big chunk of the puzzle.

“How did you know where we were?” I ask after a moment.

“Rush’s old lady gave Bas and Needles the location of the cabin. It’s safe to say she won’t be fucking crying over his death.”

“Think she can answer any questions?”

“Nah, I think she sees that girl back there as a side piece who stole her old man’s heart. If she knew Rush had any involvement in her disappearance, she would’ve given Rush up a long time ago.”

My gaze gravitates back to Ally.

“What are we going to do with her?”

“Fuck if I know,” Wolf sighs. “One day at a time, brother. First, we get that little girl back in her mama’s arms before the sun comes up, then we find her fucking father and after the dust settles, we’ll figure out what we do with her.”

“Ally.”

“What?”

“Her name is Ally,” I say, tearing my eyes away from her. “Actually, it’s Alexandria.”

Eying me from the corner of his eye, Wolf raises a brow.

“Thanks for clarifying. You going to supply her blood type too?”

I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t swollen as fuck, but the truth is I have no idea why I felt it necessary for Wolf to refer to Ally by her name.

Maybe it’s because I saw those articles.

Maybe it’s because she didn’t ask for any of this.

Maybe it’s because she’s been no one for the last twelve years.

Maybe it’s because the world forgot Alexandria Richardson.

Maybe it’s because she’s Cobra’s sister.

Or maybe I have a brain bleed.

At least then I’d have an excuse as to why I give a fuck.