BRANDON’S POV
I slam the door and yank him back.
“Why the hell is she here?” I snarl.
“Do you even know who that bitch is?” My voice comes out higher than I intend.
Adams pulls away from my grip and stares at me for a long, slow second.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but she’s your brother’s old lady.
I think you should accord her some respect.”
”Respect?” I chuckle darkly.
“You must be crazy if you think we’d let that bitch be his old lady.”
”It’s too late.
There’s nothing any of us can do.
Mr.
Warrick already signed the documents before he died.”
”If you’ll excuse me now, Bran,” Adams says, reaching for the door, “I have to leave and catch up with the funeral.”
He walks out and slams the door behind him.
I stand in the sitting room with my mind reeling in a hundred directions.
How’s Ashley Knowles, my brother’s old lady?
How the hell did that bitch get in here?
No matter how I try to make sense of it, it doesn’t add up.
It’s been four years since I last saw her.
And now, she’s suddenly Warrick’s old lady?
That’s never going to happen.
Not on my watch!
She’s a gold digger.
A thieving whore I can’t stand for a second.
Her face brings every bad memory rushing back.
I glance toward the dining-room mirror and catch my reflection—my scarred half-ear, my clenched jaw.
A deeper anger coils in my gut.
The grudge I have carried pulls at my stomach.
A sudden, terrible urge for revenge overwhelms me.
I want her to feel the pain I felt that day and every day after.
After she rammed that electric saw into my ear, my life was ruined.
She fled the city while I was left to pick up the pieces and become the butt of jokes in every setting.
Even if I finally get the chance to shove the saw into her ear in return, it won’t be enough.
Even if I cut both her ears off, it still won’t be enough.
I don’t want a quick, sharp pain,I want a slow one that’ll make her suffer for what she has done to me.
Two months after that incident, when I tried to return to the biker club to continue as a prospect, but they walked me out.
“You’re not worthy to be part of the club, Bran.
You let a girl rip off your damn ear.
Go focus on the papers and be a doctor or a lawyer.
This isn’t for you.”
”Go read your books, boy!
No patch for you.
The president has revoked it.
Go study to be a lawyer so you can help us with cases when the sheriff arrests any of the brothers.”
”And while you’re at it, find the bitch who ripped off your ear.
She’s eligible for a patch here—I’m willing to teach her how to ride.
She’d make a badass biker, the way she did that ear, man!”
I still remember Matt screaming that from the rooftop of the club the night I walked in.
Everyone laughed,even my brother.
That’s why I hate him, and I don’t give two fucks about his death.
He deserves it, at least for not standing up for me.
That bitch Ashley attacked me unarmed.
She’s no stronger than I am, I just didn’t see it coming.
That night turned me into a laughingstock, and it stings more every time I look at my ear and see the scar.
I am not just a joke to the SOC bikers—I am a joke to my family, too.
My sisters mock me and joke about meeting the little girl who had kicked my ass.
I won’t let them know she is standing here today.
I won’t let them see her as a heroine.
She was expelled and fled the state back then, but revenge is best served cold.
For Ashley Knowles—the girl I have hated for years for her guts, sassiness, and intelligence… this is my chance.
It’s pay back time.
She always ruins things for me.
She outperforms me in class without breaking a sweat.
She has personal problems at home that would flatten someone else, yet she keeps dominating.
She comes in swinging and breaks all my records in a single session.
Dammit.
I have always hated that bitch.
But I won’t let her do that to me in my own family.
I have one goal here, to take over my brother’s title and head the club.
And that, I shall do.
The rev of engines snaps me from my thoughts.
I rush out and join the motorcade.
A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the club.
That’s the first place they bring the president’s corpse.
They pay him their last respects there before taking him to the cemetery.
Minutes later,every car stops and everyone disembarks.
Countless bikes line up—not just SOC MC, but a lot of neighboring clubs come to pay respects to the deadliest prez the streets have known.
He has held down these streets for over two decades since he took over from his father.
I watch each biker park and stand outside as the coffin is carried in.
I can’t step down onto the pavement.
I am too nervous.
I don’t want everyone looking at me—at least not yet.
I am not ready for the murmurs and the hard looks.
The sun hangs low.
The air smells faintly of pine and cigarettes.
Adams steps down, rushes to the black Range Rover, opens the door, and helps Ashley out.
He holds her hand and guides her into the club.
My stomach twists.
My chest tightens with every step she takes.
Matt has always joked about wanting her to be a biker—what if it comes true now that she is the old lady?
I shake my head, forcing the thought away.
Mum doesn’t accept her and neither do I, so that marriage certificate is worthless without our acceptance.
They pull the black custom casket from the car.
Four bikers carry it on their shoulders, the SOC logo is etched deep into the polished surface.
Then my eyes finally land on the one person I’ve sworn to prove wrong—Matt.
He turns and our eyes meet–and neither of us looks away.