The Brotherhood Saga Part: 1 - Book: 3 The Rage of Storm
Author
Jassy Doe
Reads
19.1K
Chapters
53
For Lucas "Storm," life in the Brotherhood MC is simple: protect the club, punish the enemy. But when Josie—the only woman who holds his soul—is violently stolen by a sadistic ghost from her past, Storm doesn't just look for her. He goes on a rampage to tear her back from the edge of hell.
Chapter 1: The City That Broke Me
STORM
As always, we sat out in front of Kings Bar—Duke, Wrath, Ace, Void, King, and me—nursing cold beers while the heat beat down on the asphalt. It was unbearable that day, the kind of heavy, sticky summer air that made your shirt stick to your back. Ever since the lockdown was fully lifted, our community had finally returned to its usual rhythm.
The shops along the strip were open, and our street was a little busier than it had been in months. My tattoo shop, Storm Ink, was slammed with bookings. I’d made a solid name for myself over the years, to the point where people were driving in from other federal states just to get under my needle.
Because of the business we ran, any time we had someone staying in the safehouse, everything was locked down with extreme caution. Whoever we were protecting would be brought straight into the back, and the heavy gate dividing the residential houses from the main street frontage would be slammed shut. No one could get through there unless they belonged to the club.
During the day, the entrance was heavily guarded, and at night, the prospects pulled watch. I often stood guard there myself. It wasn’t just any gate; it was an opaque, reinforced privacy shelter designed to completely cut off the street’s line of sight.
We had initially closed everything down for Ace’s girl, Nora. As a key witness in a massive federal investigation, her life had been in severe danger. But since Ace’s future wife took matters into her own hands and literally beheaded her tormentor, the extreme lockdown wasn’t necessary anymore.
The whole case had been spearheaded by Tom, our close friend in the FBI. We’d been working alongside him for a long time, and when he finally arrested all of Ted’s men and exposed the entire human trafficking ring, it shook the state. The Irvine police chief scandal was plastered all over the news.
With the mountain of undeniable evidence Tom uncovered, he didn’t even need Nora to take the stand in court. Twelve men and three women were arrested—all of them Ted’s loyal henchmen—and they were currently sitting in cells awaiting sentencing. The Monster of Irvine. That’s what the media called Ted, and it was the absolute truth.
He was a monster.
But Nora? She had been legally declared dead a long time ago. Her new identity was locked down, and her real life with my club brother could finally begin. She was a new person with a fresh slate—a life she truly deserved.
I’d spent days tattooing her after she officially became his fiancée, carefully inking her old lady tat. I was almost finished with the custom piece she wanted completed before the wedding.
A wedding. I shook my head, taking a pull from my beer. Personally, I figured I’d never get married. But Ace was so fiercely confident in them that he had already completely renovated his parents’ old house and proposed after only a short time together.
“Look at those lovesick puppies,” Duke grunted, breaking my train of thought. He nodded toward our brothers, who were across the pavement watching their old ladies chat.
“You’re just jealous, Trashboy,” Wrath said, laughing.
I just shook my head, knowing Duke was about to launch into one of his usual rants about love and commitment.
“You guys literally tied yourselves down to one single woman,” Duke scoffed, turning his head to watch a woman walking toward Doc’s clinic. “I mean, why? There are so many women out there just waiting to be conquered.”
“When you finally grow up, you’ll understand, Trashboy,” Ace replied with a smirk.
“Exactly. You’re just too damn immature,” Void added, prompting a loud laugh and a nod from Wrath.
“You two are a special breed of disgrace,” Duke muttered, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “You’ve both been with your old ladies since high school. One wife for life… Jesus Christ.”
“You should watch your mouth, Trashboy. If your sister hears you talkin’ like that, she’ll blow your head clean off,” Wrath warned, making Duke roll his eyes.
“And you definitely shouldn’t tease her right now… She’s pregnant,” King pointed out, and Ace nodded in agreement.
“What the hell happened to you guys?” Duke snorted, looking away to watch another pedestrian. “We used to be cool.”
Cool. It always amused me when Duke used that word to describe our past. I had never been cool. I didn’t even know what the word meant until I found my biker brothers.
The high school years that Duke remembered so fondly had been an absolute living hell for me. My mother had emigrated from Sweden to Laguna Beach, chasing the illusions of the American Dream. She had done it entirely alone.
My biological father was a cold, brutal Swedish national who made it clear he never wanted me—he viewed me as a mistake and an anchor, abandoning us without a second thought.
My mom had arrived in California with a crying child in her arms, a single worn suitcase in her hand, and no one to lean on. I admired her immense courage now, understanding just how brutal the world could be. But back then, as a kid, it was pure torture.
Children are vicious creatures. Throughout my entire childhood, I was the permanent outsider. I don’t know if it was my stark-blond hair, my accent, or my foreign heritage, but I was never liked. I was just the boy who wasn’t wanted.
By the time I hit high school, the bullying intensified. I was a skinny, fragile kid—the perfect, easy target for the massive varsity football players. The boy with zero friends. They beat me regularly, humiliated me in the courtyards, and stole my lunch money.
There were so many nights I lay awake just wanting to die. My life was a complete shitshow, but I knew taking my own life would absolutely kill my mother. So, I swallowed the beatings. I took the humiliation, kept my head down, and counted the days until I could leave Laguna Beach and never look back.
Every single day was psychological warfare, but I refused to burden my mother with it. She was already working herself to the bone. I saw her come home every night, her face pale with exhaustion, stressed and entirely drained from pulling double shifts just to keep a roof over our heads. I couldn’t bring myself to add my problems to her shoulders.
Sometimes I’d hear her crying in her room late at night, her quiet, heavy sobs cutting right through the drywall. It broke me. She was the only person I had in the entire world, and I was entirely helpless to fix her pain. The only thing I could do was mask my own, pretending I was coping perfectly fine at school when the reality was the exact opposite.
If I hadn’t accidentally crashed into Duke one afternoon, I don’t know if I would have survived those years.
