Zero and Beauty's Breath (A Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club Series Book 3 - 4) novel Chapter 47

Seattle is one place I dread, more than DC. The city brings back a notable amount of memories, bitter ones at most.

I swing my leg off my bike and shove my helmet into my saddle.

The restaurant is a glass-encased feeding hole.

If I am to describe it, I would say its uptight formal taste is too much for me. But not for the man I am meeting today. This set up fits him like a glove.

Since I left Kanla with Beauty and Killer to hunt Lucca, something has played on my mind, bugging me.

It’s insistent.

The last time something nagged my brain this much I ended up taking a bullet in my shoulder and lost three men because one of my men betrayed me on the battlefield. Turning to the enemy.

It was the first time I met a shadow soldier as dangerous as Killer.

But where Killer feels nothing, this soldier felt everything as if he was the one betrayed.

He saved my life that day, taught me that a man without emotion is deadly but a man with too much emotion holds the world in his fingers, for he knows and understands all too well the poison of mankind.

For me that poison is something I can eradicate, his name is Lucca Sanati. He is the leader of the Outfit, and husband to the woman I love.

Just a few months ago he kidnapped Kylie Bray and Beauty, but we got them back. It wasn't in one piece, but they are alive. Barely

That night is one thing I keep replaying in my head. Beauty's body tied to a chair, so fragile, broken like the soul of its owner. The small chance that my brother helped put her there sickens me.

Beauty once told me that I stole the last piece of her, but what she doesn't know, she owns every breath I breathe.

She is my owner, even if she doesn't know it yet, she will.

A testament to that is the reason I am here, instead of going with her and Killer to see Kylie.

The man I am here to see is sitting in the corner with an iPad in his hand, whilst his eyes are engrossed in whatever has got him so unaware of my presence.

“Thorn,” My voice booms, breaking his occupied brain.

His green eyes that are closely identical to mine look up from his iPad.

He doesn't miss a beat as he lifts up his hand to shake mine. I pat his seated form on the back, pull out the silver and black leather chair and seat my ass down.

My brother and I have always been on opposite sides of the world. Today is no different and it got nothing to do with our taste in clothing, but the faults in our character.

Me? I chose a life like my pops. As a kid, growing up I never wanted another life besides the one I was given by my pops. The life of a biker, a Satan Sniper, has always been the path I’d lead.

When I joined as a prospect almost twenty years ago it was as simple as breathing.

The day I joined the military was another thing I never had to think about. I remember I was barely sixteen when I started researching about the different divisions.

One of the happiest times of my teenage life was the day I got my letter.

After two years in the army, I decided to join the navy. It wasn’t long after my training, I got recruited for my first big mission in Iraq, then Namibia.

Got home a few years after that. Met a woman. Almost got myself married but the man upstairs took pity on a fucker like me and killed her before I went down that road.

Thorn, the club and my pops were there to pick my sorry ass up. It wasn’t long after that fuck-fest I got recruited by Rounder to join the Special Ops team.

It was way more than I wanted for myself, even my pops didn’t see that coming. Guess, I surpassed my own expectations.