Page 242 of Sins of the Hidden

He quirked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

"It's club business, Vic." Grim stood from the barstool. "Not your concern."

Victoria's hand shot out, grabbing his cut. "When it's about him it's my fucking business."

He smirked down at her because he was a foot taller than she was. Her copper colored hair matched the fire in her eyes. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Victoria's face twisted with rage. "You know why."

Grim grabbed her wrist, making her fingers let go of his leather. "You’re not a patched member."

Victoria's fist slammed into the bar, sending bottles tumbling. Her chest heaved, fury radiating from every inch of her frame. "If you useless bastards can't even hunt right I'll do it my fucking self," she snarled, her voice cutting through the sudden silence. "And when I find him, I want my fucking patch."

His grin spread slow and dangerous as he stepped forward, like he was waiting for her to lose her temper. "Whatever you want, Vicious."

"I'll show you fucking vicious when I rip your dick off and shove it down your fucking throat." Victoria took Tyrant's whiskey from his hand and downed it while looking Grim in the eye. "Assuming you've got enough dick to choke on."

"Ask Nyla," he laughed, not threatened at all. "I'm sure she'd tell you I do."

I heard whimpering, Callista shaking and folding in visibility on herself as Tyrant gave her a sad look, but not leaving her side. He must’ve felt my stare, turning his attention to me briefly.

"I'm sorry about your bat," Tyrant said when his eyes flicked to me. “I know you loved that thing.”

My fingers curled into a fist. Hard to explain what that bat meant. Not just a weapon. Part of me. An extension of every fucked up impulse I'd ever had. The only thing I could trust when my inability to feel pain meant I couldn't even trust my own body.

Oakley appeared from the hallway, hair loose around her shoulders, catching copper highlights from the setting sun. Her hands behind her back, hiding something. A long, wrapped package emerged. Held out toward me like an offering.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

My fingers tore at the wrapping, revealing what was inside. My lungs forgot how to work.

A new bat.

Perfectly weighted, the handle intricately carved with subtle etchings—our story together, embedded in wood and metal. As dark as a starless night. Beautiful as a broken bone. I ran my thumb over the engravings: an infinity symbol, a small bakery,the club's emblem. Along the barrel, two names stood out in stark relief against the wood: Oakley and Summer.

She watched me, eyes hopeful, terrified that somehow this wouldn't be enough. But this was everything—my past, my redemption, carved by her hand. It was more than a replacement. It was resurrection.

Oakley gently traced the bat's carvings.

No one had ever replaced something I'd lost. Always just left me with the aftermath.

"I can't wait to make people bleed with this."

Her laughter broke the tension, gentle and familiar.

From somewhere in the clubhouse, the sound of glass breaking, followed by raucous laughter. Knight's voice booming over the others, telling some bullshit story.

“We’re gonna figure out what to do with Chet’s body today.”

Oakley’s bottom lip jutted out, jade turning to glass. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.” I tilted my head at her, waiting for her to explain why. She took a deep breath before explaining, “Chet had kids.”

I almost dropped my new bat. She reached in her pocket, pulling out a rustic pocket watch, opening it to reveal Chet with two kids. “Rurik. He told me to give this to Rurik… maybe once we find them, they can decide what to do with his body.”

“We’ll find him.” I took it from her. Chet’s shit eating grin constricting my blood flow. Fucking bastard. “And we’ll find Daphne.” She slammed her eyes shut when she heard that bitches name and I tried to shake off the weird feeling I got. I had my fucking chance to kill her.

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