Page 54 of Sypher

“Prospect. Boardroom, now.”

I nodded, got to my feet, and followed the club’s enforcer into the hushed inner sanctum, the silence punctuated only by the distant rumble of voices. I heard Montana’s tense question, “Any chance that shit will blow over?”

“No. The press is having a field day with this. They are splashing pictures of Delany’s father all over the pages. The murders are front page now, along with that child killer.”

Ignoring my presence, Malice pushed past me and into the room. “What child killer?”

“There is some fucknut loose in the city, killing homeless kids. Storm’s sister, Robin, is leading the investigation. Fucker has killed four kids already.”

A growl rumbled in Malice’s chest while he reached for his phone, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Seeing me, Montana ordered, “Take a seat, Prospect,” as the entire boardroom looked at me. I had no idea why I was needed or what was going on. From the moment I started prospecting for the club, they rarely included me in anything, only asking for my help when Shame was over his head. I didn’t mind and kept my head down happily doing whatever they asked of me.

“How long have you been prospecting?” Montana asked.

I looked around the table, saying, “Hit the year mark last Monday.”

“Storm, how’s his business?”

Storm reached for his phone just as I stated, “Doubled my net worth three months ago, Prez.”

With a subtle, almost imperceptible movement of his head, Storm confirmed my statement was indeed correct.

“Need a volunteer,” Montana stated, looking around the room when Storm raised his hand.

“It’s my turn.”

“You gonna have time with everything else going on?”

“I can do it.”

“Prospect, you’re off probation. You are now an intern. Anyone got any objections?”

The brothers all shook their heads.

“Good. Hate to throw you into the deep end, kid, but with Shame gone, you are the only other person in the club who runs an investigative service. Gonna need you to comb through Shame’s computers and get yourself caught up on the jobs he was working on. Storm, get with Fury and consolidate Shame’s businesses, sell off what you can, then transfer the funds into the club accounts.”

Holy shit!

I couldn’t believe the weight of the news, my heart pounding in my chest. I had successfully navigated another step in the arduous process of becoming a fully-fledged, patched member of the notorious Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club, bringing me that much closer to my ultimate goal. The constant anxiety, sleepless nights filled with the fear of exposure, and the intense drama had all been worth it. I was, at last, making progress toward uncovering the truth.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Montana snapped, bringing me out of my haze and ordered, “Everyone, get out. Storm, stay.”

I stood up and returned to my new office, the quiet click of the door echoing in the otherwise still space. I sank into the plush cushions, pulled out my phone, and stared at the saved image, a bittersweet ache in my chest. I knew it was a reckless gamble, a secret that could expose me at any moment, but the thought of erasing it broke my heart.

I didn’t lie when I told him about my past.

I just didn’t tell him the entire truth, because if I did, I knew he wouldn’t think twice before going to Reaper and the Golden Skulls, and that was something I didn’t want. The fact was, they ordered me to observe and learn everything I couldabout Montana and his club. To compile a general overview of their personal details and relationships. Honestly, it was a dumb move. The Soulless Sinners were direct and frank, leaving no room for misinterpretation—their words carried a harsh, cutting edge. Their words were as strong as their actions and their meaning was clear.

But that simply wasn’t sufficient. They needed more. They needed an inside man, someone who could meticulously observe their every action and report back. Because of what I already knew about one of the brothers, I was very careful and discreet in my response when Happy first reached out to me, playing my cards close to the vest to protect my interests. To be perfectly honest, I had never actually met the man, so I didn’t know him personally. I knew of him only through secondhand accounts and images, a secondhand experience that did little to give me a complete picture of the man. Consumed by a rising tide of fear, I was deeply concerned that he might somehow identify me and end my life before I could even step across the threshold of the front door. But luck was on my side, because when I applied for the prospect position, the brother didn’t even glance my way, much less acknowledge me. It was extraordinary that the brother seemed to avoid everyone, only occasionally acknowledging the club’s bartender, Silver, with a fleeting glance or mumbled word.

My job was to gather every piece of information I could learn about him and then meticulously report back with my findings. Only I never did that, because the night Danny unexpectedly appeared at my door, his presence heavy with unspoken words, irrevocably altered the course of my life.

I knew it was only a matter of time before they came for me and the club would learn my truth, but until then I still had a job to do. I hated lying to the club and Montana, but I knew they wouldn’t understand. Plus, considering Montana’s volatiletemper and his unpredictable bursts of rage, I wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t just kill me on principle.

With a heavy sigh, I reclined in the chair, allowing my eyelids to fall shut as a wave of weariness washed over me.

God, this whole war was a big clusterfuck. Tensions were high between the clubs, as lies and secrets bound them together in a complicated web of relationships. Yet no one was willing to talk to each other. More importantly, the moment the true mastermind was revealed, I knew with chilling certainty that both sides would unite, unleashing unimaginable chaos and destruction.

---