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I met his glare, refusing to flinch. He wanted fear, but all I had left was rage—cold, patient, old as the rot in the Stones’ bloodline. “And who the fuck said you’re in charge?”

George threw his head back and laughed. “You think just because Popeye saved you from an ass-beating that you have a say,” the man sneered, then leaned toward me and threatened, “Over my dead fucking body. I’m the motherfucking president of this goddamned club and will be until the day I fucking die. I make the goddamn rules. You think you are so fucking smart. That you can take me on and fucking win. Boy, I’ve been playing this game long before you were a thought in your old man’s nutsack.”

I didn’t blink. I didn’t give him the satisfaction. Let him rant, let him posture—he was right about one thing: the Stones had always played their games in shadows, and I’d spent too long letting them move my pieces for me. But I was done with that.

He straightened, letting his gaze sweep the room, as if searching for cracks in armor I refused to show. “Watch yourself, August. You’re not as alone as you think—but you’re not half as smart as you believe.”

George’s words hung in the air, heavy with threat and a chilling reminder of the power the Stones held. I knew he was right about one thing: I wasn’t untouchable. But the thought of backing down, of letting them control me and my family any longer, ignited a fire in my veins. “You think I’m afraid of you?” I snarled, stepping closer, my voice low and dangerous. “You think I care about Montana or your club? You’re all the same—a bunch of sadistic, power-hungry assholes who get off on ruining people’s lives.” George’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting with anger, but I continued, my words a venomous hiss. “You may have had your claws in me once, but that time is over. I’m done being your puppet.”

The older man’s gaze turned icy, his expression hardening into a mask of contempt. “You’ve always been a cocky little shit, August. But let me remind you—your sister isn’t the only one I can touch. That pretty little whore of yours, about to pop with your brat—she’s vulnerable too. Yeah, that’s right, you little shit. I haven’t forgotten about her. One wrong move, and I’ll make you watch as she suffers.”

My blood ran cold, my rage turning to ice in my veins. This was the crux of it—the leverage they held over me. I wanted to strike out, to end this man’s life with my bare hands, but I forced myself to stand firm, my gaze unwavering.

“You won’t lay a finger on her,” I said, each word a promise of violence. “Touch her, and I’ll burn this entire club to the ground. I’ll take everything from you, just like you took from me.”

George’s smile was slow and filled with dark satisfaction. “Big words, August. But we both know you won’t act. You’re aman of your word, and your word means nothing if your family isn’t safe. You’ll do what you’re told, just like always.”

I wanted to deny it, to scream that he was wrong, but the truth of his words hit home.

I was trapped, bound by the chains of my own making.

He was right with his threat, heavy and suffocating: I was trapped, just like I’d been all those years ago when he first sunk his claws into me. But the thought of backing down, of letting him control me again, was like a fire in my veins. “Get the fuck out,” I bit out, each word a struggle. “And if you touch a hair on her head, I’ll make it my life’s mission to destroy everything you’ve fucking built, even taking down this motherfucking club. Because you seem to keep forgetting one thing, asshole. I know where you buried the bodies.” George’s eyes glittered with a mix of triumph and hatred.

“Don’t threaten me, Bane. Or what happened to your sister will pale in comparison to what I do to that cunt you knocked up. You’re nothing but a means to an end, and don’t you ever forget it.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there, my hands curled into fists at my sides.

I knew he was right. He had always been about power and control, and I’d been a fool to think otherwise. The weight of my failure pressed down on me as I thought of her, so close to giving birth, and him, with his fingers on every pulse of the club’s dark underbelly. How could I have been so blind? I sank into my chair, my mind racing, searching for a way out, a way to protect what was mine. But every path I saw led back to the same truth: I was trapped, and he held all the cards.

The silence of my office closed in around me, suffocating and oppressive. I knew I should move, take action, but I felt paralyzed, my mind spinning in circles. The image of the love of my life driving away, the fear in her eyes, haunted me.

I’d failed her, just like I’d failed my sister.

The weight of it all pressed down, threatening to crush me. I had to find a way to fix this, to protect Diana, even if it meant playing the long game.

But this time, I vowed, it would be different.

This time, I’d be the one holding all the cards.

In the early morning hours of the next day, I stood in the middle of the nursery Diana had decorated as I waited for him to arrive. Everywhere I looked, I saw teddy bears staring back at me, knowing they would never see the child they were meant to entertain. I’d watched for hours as she meticulously decorated and placed each item exactly where she wanted it, from the crib to the comfortable rocking chair I almost took a hammer too, and she would never get to use. The dresser full of little clothes my son would never get to wear. Toys he would never get to play with. Books I would never get to read him.

Everything was messed up, wrong.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The walls seemed to close in, each pastel animal and painted moon mocked the fantasy of safety I’d tried to build around her and our child. I promised her safety, and in the end, I couldn’t even save myself.

I ran my trembling hand over the back of the rocking chair, picturing nights spent soothing my son, or Diana humming softly in the dim light. Now, there was only the echo of what could have been, and the bitter taste of regret.

Outside, the sky seemed to swallow the last bit of happiness that lingered in my world. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. She was out there somewhere, alone and scared because of me andmy association to the Soulless Sinners. The emptiness gnawed at me relentlessly.

I stared out the window, watching the city yawn awake as I held a small bear Diana had picked out. I watched faces I didn’t know, untouched by the threats that gripped mine. I wondered briefly what it would feel like to be just another person, unburdened by old debts and fresh fears.

I wanted so much to reach out to my parents, to tell them that Diana was pregnant, that I’d fucked up all those years ago and that George was blackmailing me, forcing me to do shit I didn’t want to do. That he was the cause of all their pain and to blame for my sister’s condition. Yet I kept quiet, complicit, knowing that if I told them, it would destroy them.

It didn’t matter anyway. My parents were long gone, believing they could somehow reverse my sister’s coma. The second she was stable, they moved her out of the country, seeking experts in their field from around the world who might be willing to try to fix what was irrevocably broken. The fact was, my sister would never wake from the coma. I knew it, and I think on some level so did my parents, but they had to try.

Still, with what I knew and the threat hanging over her head, there was only one way to protect her, Diana, and my parents.