Saving Sami

Chapter 12 Blood And Thunder

ACE- The walls of the clubhouse were closing in.
Ace sat at the edge of the bar, a cigarette burning between his fingers, untouched. His leg bounced violently beneath the counter as the phone in his hand showed nothing but missed calls, unanswered texts, and a wallpaper photo of her smiling.
Sami.
She’d been gone for three days. No calls. No leads. No ransom. No goddamn trace.
And he was losing his mind.
“Prospect,” Reaper barked, walking in with a scowl and papers in his hand. “You’re no good to her if you’re walking around like a live grenade.”
Ace stood up, jaw locked. “She was taken because of me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that!” he snapped, voice hoarse. “She was fine before I brought her into this f*****g world.”


Grimm leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes had the same edge—grief wrapped in steel—but he wasn’t unraveling. He was calculating. “We found a burner number tied to a message she sent right before she went dark. It pinged off a tower near Dawson Lake.”
Ace’s head jerked up.
“That’s cartel territory,” Reaper added. “Could be connected. Could be a setup.”
“I don’t care,” Ace said, stepping back and throwing his fist into the bar stool beside him. It cracked, skidded across the floor. “I’m going. If they have her—”
“You go in blind, you’re dead before you open your mouth,” Grimm warned.
Ace was already moving. “Then I’ll drag someone down with me.”


SAMI- The room smelled like mildew, old oil, and blood.
She woke up with her wrists burning and the zip ties biting into raw skin. A single bulb overhead flickered, casting long shadows across rusted metal shelves and broken crates. Her mouth was dry. Her stomach churned. But she was alive.
And that meant there was still a chance.
The man they called “Huck” had a twitchy eye and reeked of beer. He was the only one who spoke directly to her.
“You got a pretty face,” he said that morning, crouching in front of her. “Shame you got caught up in the wrong world.”
Sami didn’t respond. She met his gaze, eyes steady even though her hands trembled behind her back.
“I heard your boyfriend’s the Devil’s Sons’ golden boy,” he added. “Think he’s out there tearing the world apart for you?”
She smirked. Just a little. “More than you’ll ever have, asshole.”
He laughed, but his hand came fast—smacking her cheek hard enough to sting. He left the room not long after, slamming the metal door behind him.
She didn’t cry. She waited. Listened.
She’d counted three voices outside. One guy kept coughing like he was sick. One walked heavy. The last one had a southern drawl and talked too much. That was her in.
Sami stared at the pipe bolted to the wall behind her. If she could just get her legs around it…
She moved slowly, twisting, dragging herself inch by inch until her back met cold steel. Her wrists bled as she pulled. But her hands started to slide through.
Freedom was pain. But she took it anyway.


ACE- The gas station off Route 19 was dead. Just a broken soda machine and a flickering sign that said “ICE.”
Ace dragged a guy out from behind the building, blood dripping from the corner of the man’s mouth. He didn’t even care what his name was.
“You said they’d be there,” Ace growled, slamming the guy into the wall again.
“I said I heard they might be!” the guy coughed. “Cartel’s been using the old oil warehouse near the state line. That’s all I know!”
Grimm pulled Ace back. “He’s not lying. That’s the same place we got in a shootout last year with that ex-Vipers crew.”
Ace’s chest heaved.
He felt like a bomb ready to blow. His hands were already bruised from three other guys who hadn’t had the answers. But this one did. Or enough of it.


He looked down at the small bracelet in his pocket—the one Reaper found discarded in a storm drain. Sami’s. He remembered putting it on her wrist after a long ride. She had smiled and called it “cheap but cute.”
His hands closed around it like it was the only thing anchoring him to sanity.
Grimm grabbed his shoulder. “We go tonight. Quiet. With backup.”
“I’m not waiting.”
“You have to. We’re gonna get her back—but not in a f*****g body bag.”
Ace looked at his cousin—and for a split second, the fury gave way to fear.
“She’s alone,” he said, voice cracking. “And I can feel her slipping away.”


ACE- The ride back to the clubhouse was silent except for the roar of engines and the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his ears.
Ace’s knuckles were still bloodied, but he didn’t feel a thing.
Grimm kept glancing over at him from his bike, eyes narrowed, like he was watching for cracks. Ace didn’t have to say anything—he already knew Grimm saw the cracks forming.
By the time they rolled up to the Devil’s Sons’ clubhouse, Reaper was already there, standing on the porch with two other patched members, Crow and Buster.
“Talk,” Reaper said as Ace swung off his bike.
“We got a location. Old oil warehouse near the state line. Same place Vipers used back in the day,” Grimm explained.
Reaper didn’t flinch. “You sure?”
“No,” Grimm admitted. “But the way people clammed up when we asked… they’re hiding something.”
Ace stepped forward. “We go tonight. Quiet. Clean.”
Reaper nodded slowly, then turned to Crow. “You, Buster, and Snake head out now. Eyes only. No contact unless you see her with your own damn eyes.”
Crow gave a quick nod and took off. The plan was in motion.
Reaper turned back. “We strike when we’re sure. No cowboy s**t. If this is a trap, I want to be the one flipping it back on them.”


REAPER- He watched Ace pacing the edge of the clubhouse like a wild dog in a cage.
The kid was smart, dangerous—but unhinged. Reaper respected that kind of fire, but it was a double-edged blade.
Grimm came out, holding a map spread with pins and notes. “They’ve been watching this warehouse. Movement picked up. Three guys in, none out. One truck pulled in earlier and didn’t leave.”
“That could be her,” Ace said instantly.
“Or it could be them baiting the hook,” Reaper replied.
He paused, letting the silence settle. Then he looked Ace dead in the eyes. “You better have your head straight. Because if we go in and it’s a trap, someone dies. And it might not be them.”
Ace nodded, jaw tight. “I’m ready.”
Reaper didn’t believe him—but they were out of time.


The Raid- The night was moonless, clouds hanging low like smoke.
They rode in silent formation, headlights off, tires crunching on gravel. They parked a mile out and approached on foot. Crow signaled from behind a rusted truck, his voice low in the radio.
“Three guards posted. Warehouse’s lit up. One window’s boarded. Saw movement inside—can’t confirm it’s her.”
Reaper gave the nod. “Let’s go get her.”
The team moved in like shadows—silent, swift, controlled. Crow and Grimm flanked left. Ace went with Reaper and Buster.
At the front entrance, Ace kicked in the door. “—GO!”
Guns raised. Shouts erupted.
But the warehouse was… empty.
Just crates. Empty chains. A cot. And a recording phone left blinking on a table.
Ace rushed forward and saw it: a grainy video playing on repeat.
Sami—bound, gagged, bruised. Crying. The timestamp said two days ago.
Then a voice—distorted and slow:
“Wrong place, boys. But thanks for the visit.”
The screen cut out. A gas canister hissed from under the table.
“MOVE!” Reaper bellowed, and they all dove back as the warehouse ignited in a flash of fire and smoke.


SAMI (Brief Glimpse)
Somewhere far from the fire, Sami heard the faint crack of thunder—or was it an explosion?
She opened her swollen eyes and stared at the boarded window across the room.
They were close.
She could feel it.
But the bastards had moved her again. And time was running out.