When I’d joined the MC and immersed myself into “the life,” everything started to spin out of control. My world had been controlled. Every decision I used to make was methodical until I entered the lifestyle.
I had a mission, a true course, and a clear goal when I became a prospect. I’d get patched in, learn the ins and outs of the Sun Devil MC, find enough proof of their illegal activity, and then bring them down.
No one thought I’d climb the ranks, becoming sergeant-at-arms and one of the deciding members of the club.
I had my hands in everything.
When did the line blur? Was there a point where I became just as guilty as those I was trying to ruin?
At what point does a good guy become one of the bad?
I felt lost.
The person keeping tabs on me was James, my handler and best friend. We’d joined the DEA years ago and quickly became friends, leaning on each other in times of need and helping each other stay focused on the future— one without the Sun Devils.
He assured me I was the same man he’d met in training, but I feared he was wrong.
Being away from my friends and family for so long had an effect on me. They were my rock, my world, until I left them all behind.
How could I lead a life filled with violence, crime, and deceit, and still be the same man?
I hadn’t realized how far I’d fallen down the rabbit hole until Bike Week. Sitting around the table with the guys, drinking our beer, watching the ladies, and shootin’ the shit—and then she walked in the door.
When I heard her voice, my heart skipped a beat. Looking into her eyes, I felt the weight of my actions hit me square in the chest. Seeing Izzy was like being hit by a semi at sixty miles an hour and watching it happen in slow motion.
Unable to stop the collision, I tried to contain the damage the best I could. A sledgehammer to the head would have hurt less than seeing my sister, and knowing the danger she was in.
Everything could come tumbling down like a house of cards.
She played along, pretending she didn’t know who I was, and it seemed to work. No one thought anything of it. Rebel was a little too interested in her, eye-fucking her at the table, but I kept my cool and waited for the right time to get her alone.
I’d spent my teen years trying to protect my sister. Seeing men looking at her like she was a piece of ass drove me fucking insane. The jealousy and protective nature were ingrained in me—all Gallo men were born with it. From the time we were little, we protected each other and would give our lives for one another, if necessary.
My only goal when I saw her was getting her the fuck away from the MC and Rebel. Having her near fucked with my head.
It’s hard to describe through words, but she made me ache for something I didn’t have.
My family.
I called the one man I knew would keep my sister safe—James Caldo. He had my back, and I knew he would protect my sister with his life. When she was safely whisked away, I decided I had enough.
It was time.
No more waiting for the perfect moment.
Perfection is one of those bullshit words people use. There would be no right time to do it.
Only the now.
The motherfuckers were going down.
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