Page 185 of Savage Hearts

He was sleeping in his bed, but judging from the frown that marred his face, I’d say his sleep was anything but peaceful.

I shook his shoulder, and he gasped, his eyes bursting open as he reached under his pillow for the knife he had placed there.

I pushed his wrist away before he could hurt me, or worse, hurt himself.

It took him a moment to see me there. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Get dressed. And put your shoes on.”

He opened his mouth, obviously wanting to ask more questions. I shook my head and made my eyes hard. He shut up and listened to me, for once.

Two minutes later, we were back in my room.

Maverick was still there, but I knew he’d left for his room, because by his feet was a duffel bag he had prepared months before, in case our old man ever went on a rampage and decided to kill us all.

I looked at the bag, then at him.

“Get dressed,” he said, throwing an old shirt hanging on the back of the chair at me.

I did so without protest, and once we were ready, he led us down to the main level of the house and under the staircase, which was built to look like a closed one, but there was a secret passage door in the corner. Maverick opened it and ushered Silas and me inside before he followed.

“What’s happening?” Silas asked.

“There are men on the property. I recognized the Heartless Saints cut some of them wore,” Maverick answered, sharing a look with me.

The Heartless Saints was a local MC that had been giving us trouble recently. They’d gotten big, too, which was why we couldn’t afford a direct attack on the club, but still, to do something like this?

It would be an all-out war—if we survived, that was.

There were guards around the house, but was it enough? And the MC had the element of surprise on their side.

What was our father doing now?

Probably had his nose high up in drugs and whores.

He would never see them coming, which was probably what they were counting on.

We stayed where we were, waiting with bated breath for signs of the first attack. None of us even thought to warn our father.

Whatever they wanted to do to him was less than what he deserved, but this empire?

This was ours, and I had a feeling the president of the MC would soon take it away before we had the chance to rule over it.

My fists clenched by my side, and Silas moved closer to me, though he didn’t try to seek my protection or comfort.

I didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like hours or mere seconds. It didn’t matter because the boom that knocked off our front door still came unexpectedly.

Silas flinched, and I grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in my own to ensure he wouldn’t make a single noise.

Not that he would have been heard.

Not over the noise of the gunshots and the screaming of men as they were being slaughtered.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do, but Declan Tiernan and his three sons are mine to deal with,” a gruff voice shouted over the noise. The voice belonged to Daniel Hayes, the president of the Heartless Saints MC.

“Yes, prez,” another voice answered.

My grip on Silas’ hand tightened.

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