Chapter 6- Where's Warrick?

CHAPTER 6.

WHERE’S WARRICK?

                  ~MATT’S POINT OF VIEW~

My hands snap away from her neck instantly. I step back, my eyes shifting from her to Nonna.

The brat collapses to her knees, coughing violently as she struggles to catch her breath.

Nonna rushes to her side. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ash. Please go to the kitchen and get some water.” She helps her up, and I watch the smart-mouthed princess of the Knowles family slip through my fingers again.

But this time, I’m too stunned to speak. My feet refuse to move—I’m rooted in place.

Nonna turns to me, her face flushed with rage. “That was very inappropriate, Matt.”

My lips part, but no words come out,only uneven breaths. I've known Nonna since I was two.

“I could report this to the president—or even to the club,” she says, and my face pales instantly. 

“No one has the right to touch the president’s property.” She snarl.

She pauses, her gaze hardening. “You didn’t just touch her—you almost strangled her to death.”

“For old times’ sake, I’ll pretend this never happened,” she continues. “I won’t say a word to Mr. Warrick.”

She turns to leave, but I stop her.

“What about her? The br—” I cut myself off, swallowing. “The Knowles princess?”

Her brow lifts immediately.

“S-sorry… I mean… her. Won’t she say anything?”

She studies me for a moment. “Her name is Ashley. You can call her Ash. She won’t be a problem—she’s a good kid. I’ll handle it.”

I nod slowly.

With that, she walks away, leaving me leaning back against the wooden railing of the staircase.

My heart pounds in my chest, my mind spinning.

The president is married… to the Knowles princess?

How is that even possible?

Warrick has been the only MC president who refused to remarry after losing his first love in his early twenties they say.

Women have thrown themselves at him for years and he’s turned every single one away.

So why now?

Why her?

Of all people… a murderer?

Then again, I can’t question the president. Not outside the church.

Inside the church, every biker has an equal standing. That’s the only place we can challenge him.

But out here? Only the VP has that right.

My gaze shifts toward the hall where the bikers gathered earlier. Ripper, our vice president, is among them.

I straighten, suddenly remembering why I came down in the first place—but the thought fades quickly.

Turning, I head toward the hall.I push the door open and step inside.

Every head turns toward me.

Silence follows—thick and suffocating.

The air smells of leather, cigarette smoke, and motor oil. It’s familiar… but today, it feels heavier. Like the walls themselves are holding their breath.

About thirty men had filled the room.Some were standing. Some were sitting. Others leaned against the walls.

Every single one of them was wearing the Sons of Chaos cut—skulls and flames blazing across their backs.

But not a single one of them is smiling.

My gaze moves across the room until it lands on Ripper—Vice President of the Sons of Chaos. Six foot four, built like a freight train, with a scar running from his temple down to his jaw.

He stands at the far end, his head slightly lowered.

Something is wrong.

I walk toward him. He doesn’t look up immediately,His eyes stay fixed on the ground.

The silence stretches until I finally break it.

“What happened?” I ask.

Ripper exhales before lifting his gaze. “I don’t know. Adams made an emergency call to the club,Everyone had to come in.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course. It’s always that fucker, Adams.”

“What is it this time?” I mutter.

“I told you—I don’t know,” he says. “All he said was that it’s serious. The president got hit last night…”

My eyes widen. “What? How? Where?”

He shakes his head. “No details. Just that, it happened early this morning and he was brought back here for treatment.”

“You believe that?” I ask, my voice low. “I don’t trust Adams. Not for a second.”

“We don’t have a choice right now,” Ripper replies calmly. “We wait and hear what he has to say.”

I’m about to respond when movement near the door catches my attention.

My words die instantly.

Ashley.

She steps into the room, Nonna right behind her.

They stop just inside the doorway and every single head turns toward her.

No one speaks—but the questions are there, passing silently between them.

Ripper stares at her.Too long. I can’t tell if he’s trying to figure out who she is…or if he’s caught off guard by how innocent and wickedly cute she looks.

Even like this,no effort, simple clothes—she’s still…

Yeah. Cute.

Wickedly cute.

I tear my gaze away and look back at him. “Do you know her?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Who is she? And why is she here?”

“I didn’t know either,” I mutter. “But Nonna just said she’s the prez’s old lady.”

Ripper freezes. Completely still.

“Did he tell you?” I press. “About getting married?”

Seconds pass.Then he shakes his head slowly. “No. He didn't tell me anything.”

His eyes sharpen. “Where did you hear that? Are you sure?”

I nod. “Nonna doesn’t lie. We both know that.”

“I believe her,” I add. “Even if it makes no damn sense right now.”

Ripper’s gaze shifts back to Ashley, narrowing slightly.

Then—The door opens.Everyone straightens instantly.

Adams walks out. He closes the door behind him, stepping forward. His eyes are slightly red—like he’s been holding something back.

My chest tightens.

“What’s going on?” Ripper demands quickly. “Where’s Warrick?”

“He’s inside,” Adams replies quietly. Too quietly.

Ripper steps forward immediately, and the room parts for him.

But Adams blocks his path.“You can’t go in right now.”

A wave of murmurs spreads through the room.

Stopping the VP? That’s practically suicide.

“What do you mean I can’t go in?” Ripper snaps.

“You just said the president is inside,” he continues. “As VP, I need to see him.”

“I’m sorry, Rip,” Adams says. “Not yet.”

Suspicion flashes across Ripper’s face. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m hiding nothing,” Adams replies evenly. “I’m following procedure.”

“What procedure?” Ripper’s voice sharpens.

Adams pauses. Then continue,“His old lady sees him first.”

The room goes dead silent.

“What?” I step forward. “What old lady? The president isn’t married.”

Adams exhales slowly.“He got married yesterday,”

Then he gestures toward Ashley.“That’s his old lady.”

Gasps ripple through the room.Every eye lands on her.

“Please, Ash,” Adams says gently, extending his hand and cutting through the tension.

She hesitates… then takes it.He leads her inside.

And the door shuts in our faces.