Origin

by Ana Jolene

  “I told you, something is wrong.” I was having trouble with my jeans, but once I got them over my knees, everything was easier from there.

  Suddenly, Hastie was blocking my way. “Lucky, you can’t go.”

  “Something’s off. And I’m not waiting until it’s too late to find out what’s happened.”

  “You’re still limping. How the hell do you think you can help her?” I moved towards the door, but Hastie used his massive size to block me.

  My best friend was just amazingly stubborn. If I couldn’t convince him to let me go, I’d be here all evening. “If you had the slightest doubt that something had happened to Indy, you’d brave a motherfucking tornado just to know she was safe, wouldn’t you?” The look of anger on my best friend’s face didn’t ease. “As long as I can still stand, I’m going after her.”

  For a long moment, we simply faced off, neither one willing to back down. While I was thinking of Seven’s well-being, Hastie was no doubt thinking of mine. I couldn’t exactly hate him for that. But if he didn’t move out of my way in the next second, I’d knock him out.

  Hastie’s expression softened as a string of curses flew out of his mouth. “Fine. Then I’m coming with.”

  I shot him a smile to which he rolled his eyes at. “Let’s roll,” he said as we mounted our bikes and took off into the sunset.

  Seven

  “You do not want to mess with me.”

  “You keep saying that but you’re not really going to do anything.”

  “How do you know that?” I could kick ass if I wanted to.

  “Because you would have done it already.” Damn. For an old woman, this lady had some serious attitude to her. And every time I looked at her, I got the sense that I knew her from somewhere.

  Anger boiled through my veins. “Glory MC will scour this entire Ward searching until they find me, dead or alive.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, I don’t plan to kill you.”

  “You’ve taken my phone and won’t let me leave. If you don’t want to kill me, then what do you want?”

  “I just want you.”

  “Come again?”

  Her features softened slightly as she sighed. “I want you back in my life, Isla.”

  I gasped loudly. I felt like she had just punched me in the gut. Or like a bomb had detonated in my chest, rupturing my heart and everything else inside of me. I shook my head. “You must have the wrong girl. My name is Seven.”

  “Sweetheart, we both know that’s not true. You were born as Isla Fionola Douglass.”

  I stepped back from her as if she had slapped me. This had to be some trick. Had Lucky put her up to this? “Who the fuck are you?” And how did she know my real name?

  “You must know who I am, darling. Just think back. Think hard.” My mind was reeling, head spinning like a carousal on crack. She couldn’t be implying what I thought she was. Was that why she seemed so familiar? Was it because I knew her, loved her, for the first years of my life, but erased her from my mind as a child? “No,” I breathed. “No, it can’t be.”

  I was backing away from her as if she were a wild animal set free from her cage. The back of my head knocked against a picture frame hanging on the wall behind me. Turning, I looked into my reflection.

  Only it wasn’t me exactly.

  It was a younger version of me. I was probably five years old in the picture. Maybe six or seven. The early years were often blurry.

  Beside me, my baby sister, Ainsley, sat in a woman’s lap. Her eyes immediately seemed familiar. “No. This can’t be.” My hand unconsciously moved towards my mouth, trying to mask the sound of horror in my voice.

  “It’s true, Isla,” the woman said from behind me. “I’m your mother.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Do We Have a Deal?

  Seven

  “How do I know you’re for real?” Because the thought of my mother coming back into my life had never occurred to me.

  “I don’t think I have to prove much. You saw me and recognized me earlier, didn’t you? You just couldn’t place where. But if you look a little deeper, I’m sure you’ll know who I am.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. I could have seen you on the street. Or maybe our eyes met once and I recognized you from there.” I realized I was grasping at any other viable explanation to all this because my brain didn’t want to believe it.

  “You did once, actually,” she admitted. “At the market. I was sure you’d recognize me then, but when you walked away . . . I don’t know. I feared you’d forgotten all about me.”

  I searched my brain, trying to pull that memory from my head. “It was you,” I breathed as the pieces finally clicked together. “You were the presence I felt when I was in the street market that day.” I remembered her now. While the man with the wife was ogling me, he’d walked by a woman wearing a scarf over her head. I thought it odd that she was wearing the thing when it was so hot outside, but it wasn’t meant to keep her warm. It was to hide her face instead. Oh my God. My mother had been there all along and I hadn’t known!

  The woman nodded. “I followed you home that day too.” Okay, so that explained the sense of being watched. I hadn’t been going crazy! Relief almost had me slumping over but I caught myself. That didn’t mean I was safe. Had she been the person who had stopped Trey from breaking into my house?

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she said when I asked. “He clearly didn’t have a key and I had watched you long enough to know that you’d broken up with him. I had no idea if he was trying to hurt you or help you. I stopped him just to be safe.”

  If it weren’t for her, I had no idea what we would’ve encountered if Trey had gotten inside the house. But it also seemed strange to thank her. I owed her nothing.

  “I’ve got to go,” I told her, moving past her towards the door. All this was too much to handle.

  “What? No! You can’t go yet. We’ve just found each other again.”

  What did she want from me? To be a family again? No. After years of trying to deal with the fact that my mother had abandoned me, I wasn’t going to easily accept her barging back in my life once again. “I can’t stay here. I need to go back to Glory MC.” My voice came out frantic and breathless.

  “Why do you need them? I’m your family, Isla.”

  “You abandoned me, remember? Not the other way around.”

  “I saved you from dealing with Trey. Don’t you forget that.”

  My tone turned slicing. “Oh, so that absolves all your sins, does it then? You’re all forgiven for leaving me and Ainsley when we had nothing.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m trying to make it better.”

  “You can’t,” I snapped.

  “But you did enjoy the gifts I sent.”

  “What gifts?” Did she mean the package that contained the chips Lucky had found out front?

  “I see you’ve figured it out.”

  “What about the phone calls? Were you behind those too?”

  She nodded. “I meant to confront you earlier, but something always held me back. I guess I wasn’t ready for you to know I was back.”

  “Yeah, well, I can tell you I’m definitely not ready for this.” I moved to the doors. “Can I go now?”

  “You can’t leave yet.”

  “Nothing has changed. You can’t just barge into my life again after so many years and expect me to embrace all this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because shit like this doesn’t really happen!” She reared back as I finally reached my emotional pinnacle. “Absent mothers don’t just reappear out of the blue like magic! Abandoned children don’t forgive that easily. And I certainly don’t either.” I broke off before my voice could crack. I couldn’t take any more of this.

  “I made a mistake,” she admitted. “A huge one, and I’ve lived with that for years. I never had a chance to know who my daughters were and I know I won’t ever with Ainsley. But I hoped that I could with you.”

  �
�No, you can’t.” Ainsley was already dead. “And you never will with me either.”

  Lucky

  The closer we got to the market, the quicker I realized that something was wrong. Everywhere I looked there was white and red, Phantoms moving in and disrupting order. Immediately, my body went on high alert and I was glad that I’d followed my instincts on this one. “Call in the others,” I said, but Hastie already had his phone in his hand.

  Seven was in there somewhere. And if the Phantoms recognized her, they’d no doubt try to take her. If it was my guess, she’d seen the colors and tried to run or hide, waiting until they left to come home. But if so, why hadn’t she called?

  Hastie and I watched as the Phantoms moved like an army, efficient but brutal in their tactics. They pushed their way into people’s homes, uncaring if they were invited or not, apparently looking for something. “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “I think they’re searching for Vincent.” Hastie pulled his phone from his ear. “Bronson is already on his way.”

  By their grim faces, it was clear that their search was coming up empty. But why search here? Vincent wouldn’t be hidden in their homes. Unless . . . unless they weren’t looking for their leader. “Seven,” I breathed. “They’re looking for Seven.”

  Hastie nodded, seeming to come to the same conclusion. “We need to find her.”

  We moved as quietly as we could around the Phantoms. Without backup, we weren’t stupid enough to instigate a fight. Plus, if Seven was around, I didn’t want any bullets around her.

  A little boy who looked no older than eight was watching me with wide brown eyes, his gaze swinging between me and the Phantoms who were raiding his home. They widened as I approached him. “What are they doing?”

  He shot me a glare, no doubt associating me with the men who were currently trashing his home. “They’re looking for the girl in the market,” he said. “The one who ran. I already told them she’s not in there.”

  I schooled my expression as I met Hastie’s eyes. So Seven had been seen by the Phantoms then. If they were raiding the apartments in the area, looking for her, that at least meant that she hadn’t been captured. A flood of relief hit me. But it didn’t clear up the problem for this boy’s family.

  His father wasn’t looking too happy about it either. He threw up his hands in anger, pushing one of the Phantoms out his door while shouting. The Phantom didn’t like that one bit and fought back. Beside me, the boy surged forward, uncaring of the fact that he only stood up to the Phantom’s waist. He pushed with all his strength but it didn’t do much at all.

  “Shit.” I could see it happening before the kid did. One moment he was standing. In the next, both he and his father were on the ground, the Phantom looming over them with a pistol aimed at the kid’s head.

  I leveled my own pistol at the Phantom’s head. “Put the gun down.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” His partner’s eyes dropped to the distinguishing patches I wore, advertising my identity. After a beat, Dumbass caught on.

  He jumped for me but before he could, I grabbed a hold of his shoulders, using his momentum to swing him straight into the nearest wall. His partner had barely moved before Hastie dealt him a swift hit in the head. Bam! Just like that, he was unconscious.

  “That was so cool!” the boy yelled in excitement. Yup. That had been my first reaction when I’d seen him do it the first time too.

  As father and son scrambled to their feet, Dumbass did too. He charged for me again, emitting a herculean war cry that impressed me. But as he came trundling towards me like an enraged bull, I gave him an extra push over the railing. His screams echoed below before going silent. From this angle, it almost looked like he jumped off himself. “Come on,” Hastie called out. “We gotta go.”

  As my gaze lifted from the twisted body below, I realized that his screams had alerted the other Phantoms that something was going down. We had only seconds before we’d be surrounded. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. Finding Seven would be impossible now.

  “Go, go,” Hastie chanted as he pushed me down the stairs, the phone up against his ear. There was no doubt that he was calling Glory MC for more backup.

  Shit was getting more fucked up by the minute. My leg was starting to pain me as I ran down the stairs, avoiding the shots being fired at us. The residents in the building slammed their doors shut, no doubt finding shelter within their homes as gunfire broke out.

  The minute my boot hit the bottom step of the stairs, a black figure stepped in front of me. “Fucking hell, Bronson. You scared the shit outta me!”

  “Hey, don’t get snappy with me.” His friendly smile seemed so out of place as he tossed me a rifle. “You’re the one who got us in this shit.” I couldn’t exactly argue with that, could I?

  “Duck!” Hastie called out. All three of us dove for cover just as bullets pierced holes right where our heads had been. “Glory’s been informed. ETA two minutes.”

  The three of us glanced at each other. We could handle two minutes on our own. “Time to dance,” Bronson drawled before we jumped into the melee.

  Shots were fired in all directions. Bodies dropped. We took cover once again and it wasn’t long before the roaring engines of Glory MC signaled their approach. By this point, it was clear we were surrounded. We would’ve been in a great deal of trouble if they hadn’t arrived at the time they did.

  Somehow in that last minute, Hastie received a hit in his arm. The wound was bright red and gushing. My leg was now flaring with pain, feeling like someone had jammed a hot poker into it. Bronson looked the least fussed, no doubt revealing that he was the best fighter out of all of us.

  Suddenly Knuckle’s distinct voice echoed in the streets. “What have we got here?” I shot Hastie a look. My best friend rolled his eyes and shrugged as if he couldn’t explain his father’s sense of humor.

  Splitting up in all directions, I darted left while Hastie went right. Bronson, the fearless bastard, strode straight towards them, looking like a man of steel. The sound of Knuckle’s laughter over the gunfire made the situation seem all the more surreal. Did the man ever take anything seriously?

  Somehow a Phantom managed to creep up on me because a punch I didn’t see coming had me swinging to the side. Regaining balance, I looked up into the eyes of the man who’d hit me. He grinned as I sneered, catching him on the side of the head before he slapped a knife out.

  This was a little unfair. I didn’t have my own damn blade to fight back with. But it was clear he didn’t give a shit as he swiped at my face, nearly cutting off an ear. “Your little girlfriend ran off.” His lips pulled back in a sneer. “But I think she just likes the chase.”

  I decked him hard enough that he almost spun in a full circle. “I don’t think so,” I growled. He dropped to his knees in pain. That was when one of my hands shot out to grab a hold of his shoulder from the back. My other hand went for his wrist. I brought my knee up, snapping his arm at the joint and twisting. He screamed as the blade clattered to the ground. Fucking bastard. With his arm broken now, he wouldn’t be saying those things about my girl again.

  Knuckle’s voice bellowed through the streets. “Your men are outnumbered!” he called out to the Phantoms, sliding out from the shadows. “You can’t win!”

  For a second, I was tempted to drag him away for doing such a stupid thing with no protection, but when my gaze followed to where he was looking, I froze.

  Bronson was on his knees and he was being held down at knifepoint by one of the Phantoms. “That may be true,” the Phantoms behind him drawled, “but I have one of your highest-ranking brothers. Is his life that useless to you that you’d rather see him dead than surrender to the Phantoms?”

  Bronson was one of the most important men in Glory MC. With the alliance still fresh, he was needed to make sure that he could keep his men in line. He was also what kept things civil between Ward Four and Ward Three. Without him, we’d be without men, food, and the means to take t
he Phantoms down.

  Any individual fights that were happening stopped as others noticed the showdown between Knuckle and the Phantom. Beside me, Knuckle had his arms crossed over his chest, a look of pissed off menace twisting his features. At first, he didn’t respond to the Phantom’s words, he only stared. That seemed to put them more on edge. As their weapons lifted up higher, Glory MC mirrored the act.

  “You’re right,” Knuckle admitted. I threw him a surprised look but he wasn’t paying attention to me. He was staring straight at the Phantom who held the knife pressed to Bronson’s throat. “He is valuable to me.” Boldly, Knuckle stepped forward, making himself vulnerable as he stepped away from our protection. “What if I offer you a deal?” Alarm bells clanged inside of my head. What the fuck was he doing? “Let him go, alive and well. And I’ll give you something you’ve been looking for.”

  The Phantom sneered, already looking as if he had made up his mind.

  “I have Vincent,” Knuckle revealed. What the fuck was Knuckle thinking offering Vincent up like that? As much as we needed Bronson to maintain our relationship with Ward Three, giving up the only real lead we had with the Phantoms would be a lethal mistake. One that could kill us all!

  When the Phantom smirked, my body chilled, knowing what he was going to say next. “Prove to me that you have the real Vincent Cavezza and I’ll let him go.”

  “Oh, it’s him,” Knuckle said.

  “Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

  “If I can prove to you that it’s Cavezza, you must hand Bronson over.” Knuckle edged forward, holding out his hand. “Do we have a deal?” No. No! If we did this, we’d be right back where we started—with no hope of ever taking down the Phantoms!

  The Phantom smiled before taking hold of Knuckle’s outreached palm. “Show him to me.”

  I struggled not to burst out in anger. One look in Bronson’s eyes told me that he didn’t agree with the deal Knuckle had just proposed either.

  As the prez of Glory MC turned back around and faced us, the look on his face almost dared us to fight with him on this. Immediately, Hastie was at his side. “What the fuck are you doing?” Knuckle simply brushed by him but his son wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. “You’re giving up the only leverage we have over them! What the hell was going through your head when you proposed that trade?”