Chapter 79 79
DAISY POV
Raven didn’t flinch at my tears. If anything, they made her eyes burn brighter with contempt. She didn’t offer a hand to help me up. Instead, she reached into her back pocket and whipped out her phone, tapping the screen aggressively before shoving it inches from my nose.
"You think I'm being mean?" she hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and adrenaline. "Look at this. Look at it!"
I blinked, trying to clear the blur in my eyes. The screen was bright, displaying a grainy but clear photo of me from the night at the alley. Below it, a number was highlighted in bold, red text.
$500,000. Dead or Alive.
"That’s you," Raven snarled, her shadow looming over me on the hallway floor. "That’s the price of the 'mess' you brought into our home. Every man downstairs just saw that update. They weren't looking at you because you’re pretty. They were looking at you because you’re a payday that could buy them a new life. And you should understand that every single soul right there might be a loyal brother now, but they all had a dream of becoming Boss one day—and that price on your head can fulfill their dream."
I stared at the screen, the breath leaving my lungs. Just when I thought my life might finally make some sense, seeing it quantified in numbers made the hallway feel like it was spinning.
"Diesel is out there right now risking his life to hunt down the person who put this up," Raven continued, leaning down until we were eye to eye. "He’s chasing ghosts while we’re stuck here guarding a target. He hasn't called. He hasn't checked in. God knows where the fuck he is."
She stood back up, tucking the phone away, her expression shifting from rage to something cold and final.
“Just so you know, if you had stayed in the fucking room, everything would be under control. But now?” she said.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. My voice was broken, barely audible over the thump of the music below. "I'm so sorry."
I looked up at her from the floor. My tears were uncontrollable now, hot and thick, and my nose was running. I felt disgusting, small, and terrified. Raven turned to leave, her boots already pivoting on the wood.
"What should I do?" I called out, my voice trembling. "Is—is there—"
Before I could even finish the sentence, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. Her face was like stone.
"Disappear," she said. "The only favor you can do for Diesel, for my brothers, and for this club is to leave with no trace."
I stayed on the floor, my chest heaving, the air in the hallway feeling thinner by the second. Raven looked down at me one last time, her eyes trailing to the end of the hall.
"The backyard has a service corridor," she said, her voice dropping to a cold murmur. "It leads out past the main gate sensors. You can make use of that and never return."
She started to walk away, but then she paused, her back still turned to me.
"I'm sorry, but I hate blood," she said. "And if you stay here, there’s going to be a lot of it."
She didn't look back again. She walked toward the stairs, leaving me shivering and sitting in that ridiculous, oversized gown. I looked at the dark hallway leading toward the backyard.
Raven is right. I was a poison to this place. I was a death sentence for Diesel.
The tears wouldn't stop, but I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs shaking. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door of the room that had been my only shelter. I didn’t even realize I had made a choice until my feet began to move.
I found myself dragging my body toward the direction Raven had pointed out. My legs felt like lead, and the oversized, nun-like gown swished against my ankles, heavy and suffocating. I reached the end of the hallway where a narrow, dim stairwell led downward. I clutched the railing, my vision still swimming from the crying.
Disappear. The word echoed in my head with every step.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and found a heavy metal door. I pushed it open slowly and stepped out into the backyard. It was dark, lit only by the moon and the distant glow of the clubhouse lights. To my left was the service corridor Raven mentioned—a narrow path between a high concrete wall and the back of the garage.
I walked into the gap, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I looked back one last time at the towering silhouette of the house. I kept waiting for Diesel to burst through the door, to grab my arm and tell me to stay. But the yard remained empty.
The more I think about it, I know Raven was right. If I stayed, people would die. I turned away and began to run. I didn't have shoes. I didn't have money.
I was alone again. Just like I had always been.
Raven stood in the dark parking lot, her heart racing. She had just hung up with a Russian contact who worked for the Donald crew.
His words still echoed in her mind: “I haven't seen him Diesel, Raven.”
"Dammit, Diesel," she hissed.
She called him again, but there was no answer. She checked her messages and saw a text from Hawk, one of the other brothers. It made her blood boil: "Diesel will be fine. Stop calling. I have ass and boobs to deal with right now."
She gripped her phone so hard her knuckles turned white. To the world, Raven was a cold female biker, but Diesel was the man who had saved her years ago. She had feelings for him that he never noticed. To him, she was a sister in arms. To her, he was everything.
For a split second, a flash of Daisy’s face crossed her mind—the way the girl had looked sitting on the floor, crying and asking why she was so mean. A small pang of guilt hit Raven’s chest, but she quickly pushed it away. It’s for the club, she told herself. She had to go.
She couldn't sit still while he was missing. She shoved her helmet on and kicked her motorcycle to life. But just as she prepared to leave, bright headlights cut through the dark.
A bike screamed into the lot. The rider didn't slow down until the last second, sliding across the gravel in a cloud of dust. Only one man rode with that kind of dangerous skill.
"Diesel!" Raven shouted.
She killed her engine and ran to him, ripping her helmet off. As Diesel sat there, his chest heaving and covered in the dirt of a long night, Raven felt an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him and hold him tight. She wanted to feel his heartbeat and know he was truly alive. But she caught herself. She held back, stiffening her shoulders and masking her relief with a look of anger.
“Diesel, where the hell have you been?” she demanded, her voice tight.
Diesel didn't even look at her. He didn't see the worry in her eyes or the way her hands were shaking. His gaze snapped instantly to the upper window of the clubhouse—to his bedroom.
“Daisy,” he rasped, his voice raw and dry. “Is she safe?”
The mention of the girl's name felt like a slap to Raven’s face. She had spent the night terrified for him, but all he cared about was the girl upstairs. The girl she had just chased away. Raven swallowed the bitterness in her throat. She looked at the dark window, then back at his bloodshot eyes.
"Diesel," Raven said, her voice turning cold. "She's gone. She ran."