Taming The Reaper: My Vengeful Comeback

KNOX POV:

I stood there for a solid ten seconds, just staring at her. Bethany Gibbs. The untouchable princess of the Gibbs family, the woman who had been groomed since birth to sit beside the golden boy of the Redwood Reapers.

I had expected tears. I had expected hysterics. I had fully prepared myself to watch her crumble into a weeping mess on my dirty floor, begging me to help her fix this "terrible mistake."

But there was no panic in her eyes. There was only a cold, terrifying resolve that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She wasn't asking for a favor; she was issuing a command. And for some insane reason, I found myself wanting to obey.

"Alright, princess," I muttered, grabbing my leather cut from the back of a chair and shrugging it on. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Waking up the old dragon at this hour is a death wish."

She didn't flinch. "I'll take my chances."

I led her out of my room and down the long, dimly lit corridors of the clubhouse. The main bar was still raging downstairs, the muffled thumping of heavy metal bass vibrating through the floorboards. A few patched members and prospects loitered in the halls, and every single one of them stopped dead in their tracks when they saw us.

It was a sight that defied all MC logic. Me, the unpredictable, violent wild card of the club, walking side-by-side with the pristine, elegant Bethany Gibbs, who was currently wearing the claiming dress meant for my cousin.

She kept her head high, her posture immaculate. She didn't look at any of the gawking men. She moved with a purpose that demanded respect. I found myself walking a little slower, just to watch the way she carried herself. She was a weapon, and someone had just pulled her pin.

We stepped out into the cool California night air, crossing the compound toward the large, fortified estate where my grandmother, Eleanor Woodward, resided. Eleanor was the true power behind the Reapers. My uncle Preston might wear the VP patch, and my father Arthur might be a senior member, but Eleanor held the strings.

The guards at the gate hesitated when they saw us, but a sharp glare from me had them opening the iron doors.

Ten minutes later, the grand foyer of Eleanor's house was fully illuminated. The silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a combat knife.

Eleanor sat in a high-backed leather chair, a silk robe wrapped tightly around her frail but imposing frame. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes darted between me and Bethany. She looked furious at being woken, but her anger was currently a slow-burning ember, waiting for fuel.

"This is an outrage," Eleanor hissed, her voice raspy but commanding. "A complete mockery of our traditions."

Bethany sat on a velvet sofa opposite the matriarch. She had managed to produce a single, perfect tear that tracked slowly down her pale cheek. It was a masterclass in manipulation. I stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the performance with a mix of awe and amusement. She was playing the victim flawlessly, yet beneath the surface, I could see the shark circling.

My parents, Arthur and Brenda, were the first to arrive, both looking disheveled and confused. My mother shot me a questioning look, which I answered with a shrug. Then came my uncle Preston and his wife, Meredith. Meredith's face was pinched with annoyance, clearly upset that her perfect night had been ruined.

"What is the meaning of this?" Preston demanded, his voice booming. "Why is everyone awake?"

"We are waiting for your son," Eleanor snapped.

Right on cue, the heavy oak doors opened. Jarrett walked in, his face flushed, his clothes slightly rumpled. Clinging to his side was Kia Mason, Bethany's stepsister. Kia looked like a frightened doe, her eyes wide, her hair perfectly messy. Jarrett had his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

The moment they stepped into the light, the truth of the situation became undeniable.

"Well," Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "It seems the golden boy has finally arrived. With his... companion."

Jarrett swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Bethany, then to Eleanor. "Grandmother, I can explain. It was a mistake... the girls were taken to the wrong rooms."

Kia immediately burst into tears, burying her face in Jarrett's chest. "It's all my fault! I was so confused, I didn't know where I was going! Please don't blame Jarrett!"

I scoffed loudly from my corner. "Right. Because a patched VP doesn't know who is in his own bed. Give me a break."

Jarrett shot me a murderous glare, but I just offered him a mocking salute. The tension in the room was a powder keg, and I couldn't wait to see who struck the match.