Page 58 of Eight Bikers' Heir

“I’m pretty sure I tried the hardest. I tried to make it seem like I didn’t even want her here, but… that didn’t work,” he replied. “I was a goner from the start.”

Gradually, the others nodded.

“I’m terrified of losing her. This all just brings me back to when I lost Hailey… how devastated I was to not be able to hold her in my arms again. I can’t lose Aisling too,” Cameron murmured as he lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I thought I’d never fall in love again until I met her.”

Chris gripped Cameron’s shoulder, letting him know that he was there for support.

“I think her coming into our lives was meant to be. I mean, you met her for a reason, Kai,” Claude pointed out. “So that we could all find each other. Have the family we’ve all wanted.”

Chris and Lincoln nodded in agreement.

The original tension in the room died down only slightly. I could feel the warmth and emotion from everyone as they all let their walls crumble, showing the most vulnerable sides of them. We had always known that we wanted a happy family life. Now that we finally had it within arm’s reach, the woman we loved had been stolen away from us.

We had to remedy that. Quickly. I didn’t know what the Hornets had in store for her, but I knew that they cared more about the baby she was carrying than her. If she gave birth while in their captivity, they would take the baby, but what would they do with her afterward?

Even just the thought made me sick to my stomach.

Auden turned to me with no traces of playfulness in his expression like usual.

“We’re on the same boat as you. Now, what are we going to do to get our girl back?” he asked.

That was the million-dollar question. I didn’t know exactly how we were going to break Aisling free, but I knew that it started with a plan and a lot of pent-up anger.

One out of two wasn’t a bad place to begin.

Chapter20

Aisling

Alightheaded feeling struck me the moment the hood was ripped off my head, my vision blurring for a second before finally focusing on what looked like a cluttered, dimly lit basement. Panic thumped through my body like a heartbeat, thundering in my head as I grounded myself to reality.

No, to this nightmare that I was somehow trapped in.

“No, no… please,” I cried to myself as I tugged on the ropes that bound my wrists to the arms of the wooden chair that I had been put in.

My head jerked up at the sound of a door opening, my eyes lifting as a man walked down a small flight of stairs in front of me. Ice blue eyes. Dark buzz cut. Tall, muscular body. He was daunting and huge as he loomed over me, shooting me a glare that told me to shut up.

“Quit your crying,” he gritted out.

“Why am I here? Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as level as possible. Telling from his leather jacket and the threat radiating from him, I had to guess that he was part of the Hornets.

“Name’s Ghoul. I’m the President of the Hornets, and the new father of the baby you’re carrying,” he said as he gestured to my stomach with a smirk on his face.

In an instant, anger burned through my fear as I glared up at him, pulling harder on the ropes and wishing that I could break free to slap him for saying something like that to me.

“Fuck. Off,” I spat, able to channel the anger I knew that the guys would feel flowing through me.

Ghoul clicked his tongue at me.

“I see they’ve rubbed off on you,” he commented.

“I naturally have a visceral reaction to assholes,” I sneered at him, unwilling to show him that I was afraid. He would only use that to his advantage.

Ghoul laughed.

“That’s adorable, but I hope you know that the motorcycle club world isn’t for you, sweetheart,” he told me in a patronizing manner that made me clench my jaw so hard that my teeth ached. “All you are is a pawn in their game. Their weak effort to outdo me and my club.”

I told myself not to listen to his harsh words, knowing that he was trying to break my spirit. He was trying to get back at the guys, and I refused to just roll over and let him bully me. I had to stand up for myself and for my son, who couldn’t fight for himself yet.