Helplessness spreads through me and it’s not a feeling I’m used to. My entire life, I’ve always got by on the seat of my pants. I’ve always fudged my way through somehow, but there’s no fudging this. This is the end of the line. It means Lily-May’s chances of survival are diminished significantly. Our only other choice is to transplant from me and risk infection or the transplant not taking, or get her on the national donor register and find an anonymous match, which is going to be tough.

How do I fix the unfixable?

I stagger over to the other chair at the side of the bed and drop into it, my legs feeling unsteady. This is a death knell for her.

“As I told you before the test—immediate family is the best option for a full match, although that’s not guaranteed. A sibling gives a higher chance, but Lily-May is an only child, right?”

“Right,” I murmur back. Numbness is spreading through me. I feel sick.

“We can put her on the national register and see if we hit a full match on there, but that’s all we can do for now.”

All we can do…

His words sound like giving up and I’m not ready to lie down and lose my child. Not yet. Not while I’m still breathing.

“What about a parent?” I demand.

His brow draws together. “We already tested you—”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Lily-May’s father. What if I can get him tested?”

“Sash!” Lucy gasps. “You can’t.”

She knows why I can’t. She knows the hurt in my past that made me walk away from my entire life. She also knows doing this will shatter me.

Doing nothing isn’t an option, though.

My child needs me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this for her—even if it means facing my demons. Even if it means facing a man who all but destroyed me—would have done if it wasn’t for my daughter.

I ignore my best friend. It would hurt to do it, to walk into that clubhouse and demand it, but for my daughter, I would suffer anything. When life got dark, she was the only light in my world. She kept me sane, whole and putting one foot in front of the other. I won’t lose her because I’m afraid. I’ll fight to my last breath for her—even if it means putting myself in the firing line.

The doctor considers it.

“It might help. A father could match more closely than you have, although the chances are still not overly high, but if you can get them here we can do the test.”

“I’ll get him here,” I promise.

I just have to work out which man I’m bringing—Tyler or his brother, James.

3

Sasha

My heart is galloping in my chest as I approach the Untamed Sons compound, but something comes over me as it comes into view. My back straightens, and my lips pull into a snarl as I stride towards the gate.

I’m doing this for Lily-May, and that has me putting one foot in front of the other and moving nearer to the entrance of the compound. It has me pushing all my fears aside because for her I can and I will be strong.

The clubhouse sits at the bottom end of a cul-de-sac, behind a wire fence that spans the perimeter. Behind me, the hustle and bustle of London traffic becomes a dull moan as I move further from the main road. Civilisation is just a stone’s throw away, but it might as well be a mile. This is the Sons’ domain and even if it wasn’t for the huge sign over the doors of the compound declaring that, it’s written in every stone of the road.

I peer through the chain-link fence at the building I once considered my home. Growing up, I spent a lot of time here. Priest, my father, was always at the clubhouse, so I was here as often as I was allowed. Growing up it was just the two of us. Mum didn’t stick around long. Then later, after we started dating, Tyler would bring me. By the time he got made president, I was already deeply embedded in this life. I lived and breathed the Sons, loved the brothers and saw them as family. Losing them was almost as hard as losing Ty.

As I let my eyes roam over the clubhouse, I’m surprised by how little the building has changed in the years I’ve been gone. It doesn’t look any different from the last time I was here, except maybe a little more downtrodden. Ty clearly hasn’t kept up with the housekeeping—something I would have made him do.

The squat structure, which spans one floor, looks more like a commercial unit than the headquarters of a notorious biker club. On the outside of the fence line there are bays for parking, which are filled with Harleys that make my stomach flip with a hint of excitement. I always loved being on the back of Rav’s bike. I loved wrapping my arms around his waist and hitting the open road, just me and him. It’s been too long since I last rode.

My eyes trail to the other side of the gate and the rows of bikes beyond it. The chrome glints in the mid-afternoon sunlight, creating a sea of sparkling lights that line the road to the gate like an airport landing strip. It’s kind of beautiful, which seems at odds with the hardness of the rest of the surroundings.

As I reach the gate, I pause. There’s no bell, no way of letting anyone know I’m here. That’s because coming to the clubhouse is invite only, and I doubt I’m on that list. Knowing these men as I do, they already know I’m here. They probably knew the moment I turned into the street.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” a young guy with dark hair asks, stepping out of a small booth at the side of the gate. He looks maybe eighteen or nineteen, but his swagger tells me he’s been with the Sons for a little while. His gaze rakes over me in a way that would have most women squirming, but I grew up in this life. I’m more than used to the men that live in it, and I know how to handle them.

“Do I look lost?” I raise my eyebrow, holding his eyes. I don’t flatter him like the club pussy would and I see as he narrows his eyes that it unnerves him. A smirk plays across my lips. “I’m looking for Ravage.”

I decide to start with the lesser of two evils. Facing Rav will be easier than facing Sin. I’m not sure I have the strength to see him yet, but I will. For Lily-May, I’ll talk to him.

The prospect’s demeanour changes from playful to on guard in an instant. I see the moment the steel shutters come down and I don’t blame him. It would make anyone in the club edgy if some bitch showed up asking to see their president—especially when that bitch looks like me.

I may have left the biker life behind, but it hasn’t completely left me. I have short black hair that is so dark it looks dyed, but it’s my natural colour. It reaches just past my chin, following the line of my jaw. The leather jacket I’m wearing is beat around the edges, scuffed and marked up from years of use. Beneath the sleeve, it’s just possible to see the tattoo on my wrist of my daughter’s name in a heart. On my other I wear a heap of silver and black bangles. Dark eyeshadow and eyeliner rim my eyes, making them look hard.

The prospect glares at me like I’m a live bomb. “And you are?”

“Aren’t you a good boy, asking all the right questions?”

I don’t see any patches on his kutte and judging from how new the leather looks, I’m guessing he’s a prospect or he’s relatively newly patched in because I don’t recognise him either. He’s definitely not from my generation of bikers.