Chapter 152 His original plan
Ryder's POV
The gunshots sounded as if they were so close to the house and I could hear sounds of multiple vehicles and bikes.
Dante's head snapped toward the front of the house, his expression shifting from triumphant to concerned. He gestured sharply at three of his men.
"Go find out what's going on," he ordered. "Report back immediately."
The three men took off running toward the front yard, their weapons drawn. That left only two of Dante's men still pointing guns at me. Those were better odds, but not good enough.
The moment Dante's attention was divided, Sage moved.
She ripped away from where she was standing at the arch and ran back toward Jaxon. Dante reached out to grab her, his hand catching her arm, but she was faster and obviously more desperate.
"Get back here!" Dante tried to hold her and pull her back toward him, but his injuries betrayed him.
He winced, his face contorting in pain. His free hand went to his ribs where I guess Jaxon shot him before. The movement of trying to restrain Sage was too much for his damaged body.
Sage threw his arm off her with a violent jerk. "Don't touch me!"
She stumbled away from him and dropped to her knees beside Jaxon. Her hands immediately went to his stomach wound, pressing down hard to try to stop the bleeding even though it had slowed down.
"I'm here," she said, her voice breaking. "Jaxon, I'm here. Stay with me. Please stay with me."
Jaxon's eyes fluttered. His breathing was so shallow I could barely see his chest moving.
"You're going to be okay," Sage continued, tears streaming down her face. "The feds are coming. They'll get you to a hospital. You just have to hold on a little longer. Can you do that? Hold on for me?"
Jaxon's lips moved but no sound came out.
I stood there, my gun still in my hand, watching Dante. He was pacing now, back and forth across the grass in front of the arch. His hand stayed pressed against his ribs. His face was tight with pain and something else. Worry. Maybe even fear.
He kept looking toward the front of the house where the gunfire was intensifying. Then back at us. Then at the two men he had left behind to guard me.
He was obviously making calculations and running through options in his head. I could see it in the way his jaw worked and the way his eyes darted around.
I guessed in my mind that maybe he was trying to decide whether to kill all three of us right here and run.
The thought made my grip on my gun tighten. If he gave the order, I'd have maybe one second to act and one chance to take down even if it was only one of his men before they put bullets in me.
We heard shouting from the front and the sound of more vehicles.
Dante's pacing got faster and he looked more agitated. His hand kept going to his ribs, pressing against the injury like he could will away the pain.
Then he stopped, shook his head and turned to face Sage. And his expression changed from worry to anger.
"Your brother killed your father!" The words exploded out of him.
Sage's head whipped around to look at him. Her hands were still pressed against Jaxon's wound but her attention was fully on Dante now.
"What?" she breathed.
"Your precious brother," Dante said, his voice dripping with venom. "The one you're trying so desperately to save. He's the one who put three bullets in Vincent Romano's chest."
"I already know that," Sage said, her voice shaking. "He told me. It was self-defense. Dad pulled a gun on him first."
Dante's laugh was harsh, bitter. "Self-defense? Is that what he told you?"
"How do you know anything about it?" Sage demanded. "You weren't there."
"Wasn't I?" Dante's smile was cold. "How do you think that picture got to the clubhouse, Sage? The one showing Jaxon arguing with Vincent right before he died. Who do you think took it?"
Sage's face went pale. "You."
"Me," Dante confirmed. "I was there that night. I saw the whole thing."
"You're lying," Sage said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"I wish I was." Dante moved closer, though he kept his distance from Sage's reach. "I was going to pay Vincent a visit. Of course I could not be seen, so I always came late at night. But I saw the two of them in the parking lot."
"Stop," Sage said.
"I watched them argue," Dante continued, relentless. "I tried to eavesdrop but I couldn't get so close without being discovered.”
"Shut up," Sage's voice rose.
"And I watched Vincent pull out his gun," Dante said. "I was excited, thinking he was going to pull the trigger so I would easily take over from Vincent since his son would be dead. But then Jaxon pulled his gun too and I watched him fire. Three times. Bang. Bang. Bang."
"Stop it!" Sage screamed.
"It was cold-blooded murder, Sage. Your brother executed your father to protect his own ass."
"You're a lunatic!" Sage was shaking now, her whole body trembling. "A fucking lunatic!"
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, my voice hard. "If you saw it happen, why keep quiet?"
Dante turned to me, his expression calculating. "Because I was hoping the club would put the pieces together themselves. I sent the photo to the clubhouse. I thought you would see Jaxon arguing with Vincent and when you realize he was the last person to see Vincent alive, you'd figure out he was the killer."
"And then what?" Sage asked, her voice hollow.
"Then the members would kick him out," Dante said simply. "Maybe kill him themselves. And the Steel Wolves would need new leadership. Someone who wasn't a murderer. Someone who wasn't a snitch."
"You," I said.
"Me," Dante agreed. "I would step up. Take over as president and restore the club's reputation."
He looked at Sage, his expression softening slightly. "And I'd be there to comfort you, Sage. To help you through the grief of losing your father and the betrayal of your brother being his murderer. You would have needed someone to lean on."
"And I'd fall for you," Sage finished, understanding dawning on her face. "You thought I would marry you naturally. Out of gratitude. Out of loneliness."
"Exactly." Dante's smile returned. "But things didn't go according to plan. The club didn't figure it out. You started investigating instead of grieving. And then Jaxon pushed you toward Diego instead of letting you be free."
"So you improvised," I said.
"I adapted," Dante corrected. "And now here we are. One way or another, I'm getting what I want."
Sage stared at him, horror and disgust written across her face. "You're insane."
"I'm ambitious," Dante said. "There's a difference."
There were more gunshots and we heard glass shattering somewhere in the house.
Dante's expression shifted again back to worry. He looked at his two remaining men, then at us, then toward the gunfire.
He was running out of time and he knew it.