MC: The Devil Inside

The courthouse steps felt cold beneath my heels as I paused to look back at the building that had become my second home over the past two years. Another case won, another criminal behind bars, another step closer to the skills I’d need for what really mattered. Justice. Or what I’d convinced myself was justice.

My phone buzzed with a text from my assistant: “Drinks to celebrate the Morrison verdict?”

I typed back quickly, “Rain check, I have something to do.”

Something to do. That was one way to put it. The drive to Riverside Cemetery had become routine over the past four years, though today felt different. Today marked exactly four years since Jake’s murder. Four years since my world had shattered and reformed around a single, burning purpose.

Flashback.

June 1, 2020. I was sitting restless, a feeling in my stomach I could not understand.

“Stay here,” Jake said, the tone of his voice making it perfectly clear he wasn’t joking, and there was no room for argument.

“But—” I started to protest.

“I’m fucking serious, Des. No matter what, do not move.” The anger radiating from him was suffocating. He immediately silenced me, and I sat with my hands in my lap, fidgeting. The car door slammed behind him.

I watched him walk away and disappear into the abandoned warehouse. Time passed as if the hands of the clock were frozen in place.

I knew my brother was taking a chance; he got involved with the wrong people, and to protect his family, he made an agreement with a rival club.

The sound of gunfire cut through the silence; I instantly froze. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach, and when I saw someone exit the building, I slipped down in my seat quickly as they got on the bike and took off. I bolted out of the car to my brother.

I ran into the warehouse and rushed to my brother’s side; he was clenching his stomach, blood pooling all around him.

“Jake, what the fuck?” He looked up at me, his eyes sunken and his features twisted.

“Can you get up?” I could feel the tears rushing to the corners of my eyes as I looked at my brother, helpless and confused.

“I don- don’t think—” His voice was weak. I tried to help him out, but he was too heavy. I started to frantically search my pockets for my phone and realized it was in the car.

“I’m going to get my phone; I will be right back.”

I went to stand up and his hand grabbed my wrist. He looked up at me, the color completely gone from his face. “Reaper.”

He let go, and I rushed out to the car and grabbed my cell phone. I quickly dialed 911 and went back to my brother.

I tried to tell 911 where we were. I looked down at Jake, his body limp and his features softened.

I screamed. I knew he was gone.

Present.

The guilt of that night has invaded me and is the driving force behind my plan.

I parked near the familiar oak tree and walked the path I could navigate in my sleep. Section C, Row 12. The headstone was simple, smooth granite: “Jacob Martin Wells, Beloved Brother.”

I’d fought my parents over the inscription, wanting to add “Taken Too Soon” or “Victim of Senseless Violence,” but they’d insisted on something peaceful.

Peaceful. Jake’s death had been anything but peaceful.

I knelt beside the grave, placing fresh white lilies against the stone.

“Hey, Jake, I know you probably think I’m crazy, but I’m getting close. Really close.”

The wind rustled through the trees, and for a moment I could almost hear his voice: Desiree, let it go. Move on.

But I couldn’t. Not when his killers were still out there, still riding their motorcycles through town like they owned it, still wearing their patches like badges of honor instead of shame.

The Devil Inside Motorcycle Club. Even their name made my stomach turn.

I’d spent the last years learning everything I could about them. Years building my legal practice, specializing in cases that taught me about criminal organizations, violence, and intimidation tactics. Years preparing for the moment when I’d finally be able to bring them down.

“I passed the bar exam with the highest score in the state and took a job at Sterling, Blake & Associates. You’d laugh—remember how I used to say lawyers were all sharks? Turns out being a shark is exactly what I need.”

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Jake had always been the idealistic one, talking about changing the world and making things better. I’d been the practical sister, focused on my marketing degree and landing a corporate job. Now here I was, using the law as a weapon while he lay silent in the ground.

“The police gave up, you know. Detective Rivera still returns my calls, but I can see it in his eyes. They’ve moved on. Cold case. They think whoever killed you is long gone or laying low.”

But I knew better. The Devil Inside was still operating, still visible around town. Their president—a man who went by the ridiculous name “Reaper”—had taken over after the previous leader died in a motorcycle accident. The timing had been convenient. Too convenient.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a photo I’d taken from across the street last week. Reaper, standing outside their clubhouse, talking to other members. Dark hair, broad shoulders, the kind of presence that commanded attention. Everything about him screamed dangerous, from his leather jacket to the way the other men deferred to him.

“I’m going to destroy him, Jake; I’m going to destroy all of them. For what they did to you.”

The plan had been forming for months. Get close to them somehow. I’d been tracking his movements for months. Every Friday night, Reaper frequented Mickey’s Bar on the south side of town. A dive bar where bikers gathered, where conversations flowed as freely as the cheap whiskey, where a lawyer in the right outfit might blend in long enough to make contact.

Tonight was the night.

I stood from Jake’s grave, my plan crystallizing with each step toward my car. Four years of preparation had led to this moment. Not waiting for opportunity to find me, but creating it myself. And I’d be perfectly positioned to make him want me.

“Tonight, Jake, tonight I start making them pay.”