Page 94 of Sexting the Bikers
Novikov hangs back, watching, not willing to jump in until he sees which way things are going. He keeps his eyes on Katya and Reaper, waiting for an opening, but the Ravagers hold the line.
Katya stays close to Reaper. He shields her with his body, making sure no one gets near. She doesn’t run or hide, just stands her ground and watches as her family is pushed back, some of them already looking for a way out.
The fight is loud and messy, but the Ravagers have the advantage. Alexy’s men start to falter, pulled down or driven away by the force of the attack. Some drop their weapons and hold up their hands, beaten and exhausted. The rest scramble back, trying to get away from the swinging pipes and fists.
From my spot on the roof, I steady the rifle, crosshairs locked on Novikov’s chest. He’s standing apart from the rest, watching the chaos with a cold, measured look. All it would take is a single squeeze, and it would be over. The urge is strong. I track his every movement, waiting for a sign.
My earpiece crackles with Reaper’s voice, calm but firm. “Not yet.”
I keep the gun aimed, finger tense on the trigger, forcing myself to wait. Novikov stands there, barely blinking, stillthinking he’s in control. I could end it, right now, but I trust Reaper’s call. So I hold back.
But Dog seems to have other ideas. I spot him out of the corner of my eye. He breaks from the line of Ravagers, moving straight for Novikov, ignoring everyone and everything. He barrels into him, knocking him flat against the car. I watch as Dog lays into him, fist after fist, raw and punishing. Novikov barely gets his arms up before Dog’s knuckles split his lip and send his head rocking back. Reaper shouts for Dog to stop, but Dog doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care.
Novikov’s men try to step in, but the Ravagers block their way. I keep my gun trained, tracking every movement, waiting for a reason. The fight turns uglier when Dog lands another hard punch, then grabs Novikov by the collar and hits him again, pure rage in every swing.
Reaper jumps in, grabbing Dog and yanking him back, keeping him from doing real damage, or from catching a bullet himself. I fire off a few warning shots from the roof, the sound ringing out over the yard. Men dive for cover, heads down. My instructions from Reaper are clear—don’t kill anyone, just hold the line. I grit my teeth, frustrated, finger twitching against the trigger.
I don’t know what Reaper is planning, or why he wants Novikov alive, but I trust him.
Well, mostly.
A long, rising wail floats in from somewhere beyond the trees, a thin cry that grows and falls in slow pulses. The sirens slice through the smoke and shouts, a cold note that makes every head lift and every fist pause.
My finger stays resting lightly on the trigger, sights trained on Novikov’s chest, but my ears are tuned entirely to Reaper’s voice. He steps forward, calm as ever, raising his voice just enough to cut through the distant sirens.
“Now here’s the deal, Alexy,” he says. “The ATF is headed here as we speak, and as luck would have it, I’ve got a barn stacked with illegal weapons that Novikov failed to buy off me. Which means anyone standing on my land when they arrive is getting arrested.”
Alexy’s eyes narrow, flicking toward Novikov, who’s wiping blood off his mouth, bruised and furious. Alexy’s men shift uneasily, weapons lowered slightly, uncertainty running through them like an electric current.
The sirens rise again, louder this time, their echo vibrating across the yard.
Reaper’s voice stays steady, commanding the yard effortlessly. “I suggest you and your brotherhood get off my land, and while you’re at it, out of my town and my state. I’ve sent word to every Ravager chapter and every club that matters, that Russians don’t keep their promises. No guns, no drugs, nothing. Your business here is dead.”
The air is heavy, the tension thick enough to choke on. Alexy’s face twists in anger, Novikov’s fists clenched tight at his sides. Around them, the Ravagers slowly step from shadows and hiding places, a small army armed to the teeth and ready. Guns raised, bats balanced on shoulders, faces carved with defiance and purpose. I catch the flash of Dog’s fierce grin, Twitch’s narrowed eyes, Reaper standing tall with Katya by his side, fearless and steady.
Reaper takes another step, voice lowered to something raw and unyielding. “If you’re still here when those sirens arrive, or if you ever show your face here again, we’ll hunt you down and exterminate you.”
Alexy holds Reaper’s stare, testing, weighing the odds. But then the sirens scream again, piercing and insistent, closer now—too close for comfort. That seems to decide it. Alexy glances sharply at Novikov, who’s still simmering with rage.
Slowly, the Bratva lower their weapons, backing away toward their vehicles. Engines ignite, headlights cutting through the yard, wheels turning urgently against gravel.
Alexy takes a long look at Reaper, then at Katya and his own men, weighing the danger all over again. “I’m out of this,” he says, voice tired, cutting through the tension. He turns to his family, eyes lingering on his brother and the older men, the lines of worry clear on their faces.
Novikov steps forward, blood on his mouth, anger sparking in his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Alexy. Remember, I still have your aunt. You walk away now, you may never see her again.”
Alexy doesn’t flinch, but something hardens in his posture. He looks back at Novikov, disgust flickering across his face. “Then I’ll ask my forgiveness from Zaika,” he says, nodding toward Katya. “And let him decide my family’s fate. But I’m not going to be arrested by the fucking cops because you messed up.”
He jerks his chin at his crew, motioning them to start falling back. Some hesitate, caught between loyalty and fear, but when Alexy repeats the order, they begin to move, gathering up what’s left of their pride and their wounded.
Novikov’s glare follows them, but the threat is slipping out of his hands. The Ravagers remain spread through the yard, silent and watchful, making sure no one tries anything foolish. The sirens grow louder, pulsing through the air, impossible to ignore.
Alexy pauses, lingering near the edge of the yard as the others move toward the cars. He looks back at Katya, his face raw, stripped of any bravado. “Come with us, Katya. The family knows they treated you badly. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
Katya just snorts, arms folded tight. “Get out of here, Alexy. You’re not my family anymore.”
For a moment, he stands there, regret written plain across his features. “I’m sorry about what happened,” he says, voice quiet, the words barely carrying in the night air.
Katya doesn’t reply, her face cold and unreadable. Alexy hesitates, as if he might say more, then finally turns and follows the others, fading into the dark.
