The Biker’s Mafia Princess (Angel and Savage) novel Chapter 2

Rebel POV.

As soon as the words left my mom’s throat, I was up and running to grab my helmet and out in the lift to get to my bike to get to the compound. I needed to see that she was lying to me, that they were ok. No way in hell were my nanna and pop-pop dead. It wasn’t fucking possible. Right, right?

I make it to the parking garage and run to my bike; I turn it on before I even climb on and I’m out of there heading to the Clubhouse compound. She is lying; she is lying. Is all I kept thinking as I dodged through traffic and riding at speed to get to them.

But my heart is telling me something different, my vision blurs with the unshed tears. My gut twists and I know she isn’t lying. She wouldn’t pull something this sick just to get me back there to them. She wouldn’t dare. It would be too fucking cruel, but it would mean her death would come quicker.

I pull into the compound and dismount, unaware that I was being followed. I climb off, rip the helmet from my head and throw it as I run towards the steps, running past Dylan as I go. My head was in one space and one space only, to find out the truth. I burst through the doors of the clubhouse and stop dead in my tracks.

A strangled sob leaves my throat as I see the looks of pity on everyone’s faces.

“Rebel,” I ignore the voices that are calling to me as I make my way towards the clinic that is in the back. When I’m stopped.

“Move, I need to see them.” I say, looking at Ice, but he looks at me with so much pain in his eyes. I shove past him and run to the clinic. I stop in the doorway as I look at the two beds. Two bodies covered in white sheets.

“Rebel, I …” I hold my hand up as I walk towards the bed. My hands shaking as I reach for the top of the sheet and slowly and gently pull it back.

Tears stream down my face as I take in her face. My nanna. I reach for her face and sob as I hug her head to my chest. My hand fisting in her blonde hair.

“Nanna, nanna, no, wake up.” I say even though I know she is gone, the little girl inside of me screaming for her nanna and pop-pop. I won’t admit that they are dead. No. I kiss her head and look at the other bed. I move slowly and repeat the process. Doc is just watching on silently.

“Pop-pop.” I touch his face, his grey beard that is braided, and his long grey hair. I kiss his head and make a solemn, silent vow. I will get the ones who did this. They will die by my hand and anyone who gets in my way.

I cover them back up and leave the room. Only to be confronted by the club. I don’t wipe my tears as I make my way through.

“Rebel.” I look at her, my mom. I have no love for her, and she knows it. The same as she has no love for me.

“What happened?” my voice is low, dangerous, void of emotion. A telltale sign that shit is about to get ugly.

“We came under attack, and they were dumped. Thrown from the SUV.” She says when I step up towards her, when I’m grabbed and held back. I lose it as I lash out, trying to get her to tell me what she knows. But this is a fucking message. A huge fuck up on her and my part.

I’m screaming like a banshee trying to get to her. She is much to blame for this, as I am. If not more!

In my head I need to get to her, to eliminate her, the twisted part of me wanting to see her fucking suffer. Like I have. When I’m stopped and lips slam against mine. My mind stops for a second, only to be flooded with warmth and pleasure. God above. I kiss him back, knowing who it is. Dante, he followed me here. He must have known I would need him.

When he breaks the kiss, I’m in a daze when I’m kissed by someone else. Holy shit, what is going on? I don’t know, but I kiss this person back too. Again, I feel warmth and pleasure. But I know it isn’t Dante. Holy fuck, it’s Dylan.

When we break apart, he pulls me in to a hug. I don’t really hear what he is saying. I just sob into his chest. I only pull away when I hear my dad’s booming, angry voice as I turn to face him.

“I know who it was, it was a message for me …” but I didn’t get to finish when Luna attacks me. Oh fucking great, she wants to go, ok plastic barbie let’s fucking go!

We fight. She isn’t very good, sloppy, weak. So I over power her easily. I was always a fighter, even when I was little. I would scrap to get what I wanted, not have it handed to me on a fucking silver platter. Words are exchanged, but then she blames me. Oh no, not today, miss lady.