Page 73 of Devil in Disguise

“This changes things,” I muttered, rubbing my temples as if that could somehow ease the growing tension in my head. “With the Federation gearing up for war, we can’t afford to keep everyone in the dark any longer. Everyone needs to know the truth about Jane Craven and the threat she poses.”

Nav nodded, his face grim, and I knew he understood the gravity of the situation.

“We’ll have to move carefully, though,” I continued. “Involving the Golden Skulls is tricky. Reaper’s temper alone is dangerous, but even I know they are our best chance at taking down Craven. But it also puts a target on their backs. We can’t underestimate her; she’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”

“What about Emma?” Nav asked, his voice tight. “With the Federation on the move, she’s even more vulnerable. We have to find her before they do.”

I shook my head, frustrated. “Logic is good at what he does; he’ll keep her safe. Our priority now is to prepare for the coming storm. We need to gather our forces, strengthen our defenses, and be ready for whatever Craven throws our way. This is a war we can’t afford to lose.”

Nav’s jaw clenched and I could see the weight of our decision resting on his shoulders. “I’ll talk to King,” he said. “He’ll want to know about this. He can call Reaper and get the Golden Skulls involved, but we’ll need to be careful. This could be our only chance to take down Craven and end this shit once and for all.”

As Nav and I continued to strategize, the weight of our responsibility felt heavy. I knew that involving more clubs in the conflict with Jane Craven was a risky move, but it might be our best chance at defeating her. The tension in the air was palpable as we weighed the lives of our brothers against the potential for a decisive victory. The coming days would be crucial, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap.

About an hour or so later, Haizley walked into the house all smiles. “How are you feeling today, Danny?” she asked, trying to get down to business. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” I replied, then narrowed my eyes. The lie tasted like bitter disappointment. “I’m still tired and things are still a bit fuzzy, but my head is clearer. And before I forget, under no circumstance is Bane allowed to drug me again. Whatever he gave me took hours to wear off. I didn’t like how it made me feel.” The words felt hollow, a pathetic shield against the crushing weight of my actions.

The woman smirked. “I’ll make a note in your chart. No more drugs. So, let’s talk about what happened last night.”

“Let’s not and say we did.” I grinned, my bravado a thin veneer over the gnawing fear inside. The truth felt like a venomous snake coiled in my gut, ready to strike.

“Nice try, Danny.” Haizley sat up straighter in her chair. “You had a manic episode and I, for one, would like to know what set it off. Why don’t you tell me?”

Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck. The gesture was automatic, a nervous tic I couldn’t control. “I was showering last night and I couldn’t shake this feeling of dread. Like something bad was about to happen. Something I caused.”

I hated the way my mind worked, its relentless focus on my culpability.

“It kind of took hold of me. It scared me.” My admission felt weak, inadequate. It didn’t even touch the horrifying truth.

“Fear can do that,” Haizley replied, her tone neutral. But I knew she saw through my carefully constructed façade.

“Anyway,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper, “while I was trying to make sense of why I was feeling frightened, Dante jumped in the shower with me, and when I looked into his eyes, I remembered everything. All of it, until the building blew. In fact, I think I remember hearing the explosions.” The memory of the blast, the screams, the searing heat, sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

“Why would looking into Dante’s eyes cause you to remember?” Haizley pressed her gaze unwavering.

“Because she has his eyes,” I mumbled, the words catching in my throat.

The lie—the terrible, self-serving lie—felt like a brand on my soul.

“Who does?”

“His sister.” My admission felt like a poisoned dart in my heart.

“I see,” Haizley said, leaning forward. “And is she the one you were talking about last night? The one you needed to make sure was safe?”

“Yeah.” The single syllable felt heavy with guilt. I had failed her, betrayed her, condemned her. And for what? To protect Dante? Or to protect myself from the consequences of my own actions?

“Why would you think she wouldn’t be safe, Danny?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through my carefully constructed defenses.

“Because... because I gave her up to save Dante.” The confession ripped through me, leaving a raw, bleeding wound.

“You did what?!” Dante shouted, jumping to his feet, his face a mask of disbelief and rage.

Hunching over, I nodded, my shame burning my cheeks. “I’m not proud of myself, okay? I fucked up, but I told you I will do anything to protect you. I meant that.” My words were a desperate plea, a fragile attempt to justify the inexcusable.

“So that bitch knows where my sister is?” Dante’s voice was dangerously low.

“Not necessarily,” I lied again, the lie smoother, more practiced this time. But even I could hear the tremor in my voice.

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