Chapter 9: Sister of Shadows and Lies
Chapter 9
The phone’s silence was louder than any gunshot.
Rowe stared at the device lying on the chapel table, her pulse thundering in her ears. That voice—low, edged with smoke and secrets—had sounded like a darker mirror of her own.
A sister.
Flesh and blood she had never known existed.
And now that ghost was reaching out from the darkness with warnings and demands.
Reaper’s hand rested like iron against her waist, anchoring her as the club erupted into motion. Viper was already barking orders for the techs to trace the call. Ghost mobilized teams to fortify the compound.
Every man in the room moved with lethal purpose, but the tension had shifted.
This wasn’t just a war with the Devil’s Disciples anymore.
It was personal.
Familial.
Poisoned from the inside.
"Everyone out," Reaper commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "Double patrols. No one rides alone. If anyone so much as looks suspicious, you bring them to me."
The room cleared quickly.
When the chapel door finally shut, Reaper turned Rowe to face him. His storm-gray eyes searched hers, turbulent with emotions he rarely let anyone see.
"You don’t have to do this alone."
"I know."
She leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounded her.
"But she called me. She knows things about our father. About my mother. I need to hear what she has to say."
Reaper’s arms tightened around her, one hand sliding protectively down her back.
"We do this together. No heroics." His voice dropped. "You’re mine now, Rowan. In every way that matters."
Heat spiraled through her despite the chaos surrounding them.
Memories of their stolen moments together flashed vividly through her mind.
She rose onto her toes and kissed him, slow and searching, pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the embrace.
Reaper answered with a low growl, lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the table before stepping between her knees.
For a few stolen moments, the world narrowed to nothing but them.
His lips traced the curve of her neck.
Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, following the familiar lines of ink and old scars.
The solid warmth of his body against hers reminded her how dangerous it was to find comfort in the man standing at the center of every unanswered question.
Then the phone rang again.
Reaper muttered a curse and pulled back, though one arm remained securely around her waist. He answered on speaker.
"You’ve got one minute before I hunt you down myself."
A woman’s laugh drifted through the speaker.
Bitter.
Knowing.
"Big bad Reaper. Still playing protector after all these years?"
There was a brief pause.
"Put my sister on."
Rowe leaned closer.
"I’m here. Who are you?"
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then—
"Name’s Raven. Mom kept me. Or rather, the people who took her did. Long story. Not for open lines."
Another pause.
"Meet me tomorrow night at the old crossroads shack. Come alone, or the deal’s off."
Her voice hardened.
"And Rowan? Don’t trust the Reapers. Not even him."
A soft laugh.
"Blood lies thicker than leather."
The line went dead.
Reaper slammed his fist against the table, leaving a crack splintering through the wood.
"Trap."
"Probably."
Rowe folded her arms tightly across herself.
"But if there’s even a chance she’s telling the truth..."
Reaper cupped her face, forcing her gaze back to his.
"We set our own terms."
His thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip.
"You don’t go anywhere without me or a full escort."
A beat passed.
"And tonight..." His voice softened. "You stay where I can keep you safe."
The rest of the day passed in grim preparation.
Rowe officially began prospect duties, cleaning bikes, running errands, and learning the club’s hierarchy one rule at a time.
Some members watched her with growing respect.
Others remained openly suspicious.
Lila’s jealousy was impossible to miss, but after a sharp warning from Viper, she wisely kept her distance.
By nightfall, the clubhouse had transformed into a fortress.
Guards rotated in pairs.
Weapons were checked twice.
No one trusted anyone completely anymore.
Later that night, Reaper locked the door to his room behind them.
For the first time all day, silence settled between them.
He gathered her into his arms, holding her as though letting go wasn’t an option.
Neither of them spoke for a long while.
Eventually, Rowe traced the Reaper’s tattoo spread across his chest.
"What if she’s right?"
She looked up at him.
"What if there’s someone in the club we can’t trust?"
Reaper’s hand moved slowly along her back.
"Then I’ll burn this club to the ground myself before I let them touch you."
His voice became almost a whisper.
"I love you, Rowan."
He held her gaze without wavering.
"I’ve loved you for longer than I ever should have."
A faint, sad smile touched his lips.
"We’re ending this war."
"Together."
The words settled over her like both a promise and a warning.
She kissed him softly, unable to trust her voice with everything she wanted to say.
Sleep came only in fragments.
Sometime after midnight, Rowe woke to the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating on the nightstand.
Unknown number.
One text message.
Crossroads. Midnight tomorrow. Come alone, or Raven dies. Bring the original letter from your father. — A friend who knows the blood truth.
Beside her, Reaper stirred.
His eyes scanned the message over her shoulder.
Every trace of sleep vanished from his face.
"They’re watching us," he said quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"Inside the compound."
Rowe looked up at him through the darkness.
The sister she’d never known was somewhere out there.
The club was rotting from within.
And the man she loved carried enough secrets to drown them both.
Outside, motorcycle engines rumbled somewhere beyond the perimeter.
Unknown riders.
Circling.
Waiting.
The ghosts of her bloodline were closing in.
And by midnight tomorrow...
Someone would bleed for the truth.
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