My Mafia Brother’s Car Framed Me? Chapter 04

My Mafia Brother’s Car Framed Me? Chapter 04

The pack set off again.

I was sandwiched right in the middle of the formation, while Hailey rode my bike at the very back alongside Theo.

The moment I threw my leg over the black motorcycle, I knew something was wrong.

The clutch engagement point was erratic, the handlebars pulled slightly to the right, and the steering stem felt loose beneath my grip.

Once we hit the downhill slope, the front wheel vibrated violently. The whole frame felt completely unstable.

I yelled into the open comm channel, “Front riders, slow down! This bike has structural damage!”

Theo’s command cut through instantly. “Keep formation. Stop making excuses.”

Less than a mile later, the front tire rolled over a shallow rut.

A loud, sickening crack rang out from the steering head as the front assembly collapsed completely.

Instinct took over. I threw myself clear of the motorcycle and let my heavy armor absorb the impact as I tumbled into the drainage ditch by the side of the road.

The bike flipped twice and slammed into the ditch wall before grinding to a halt.

Agony flared through my right shoulder and flank, while a jagged piece of broken fairing sliced open the side of my thigh.

When the pack pulled up, not a single person asked if I was alive.

Theo rushed over to inspect the shattered frame, with Hailey right on his heels.

The moment her eyes landed on the wrecked motorcycle, her knees buckled.

“Oh god!”

She pointed a trembling finger at me and shrieked:

“That’s Don Lucchesi’s custom bike!”

“It’s worth four hundred and eighty thousand dollars! It’s the only one in the world!”

Dead silence swallowed the trail.

I pushed myself up against the stone wall of the ditch and stood up.

“Didn’t you just tell everyone it was just a regular modified bike?”

“You knew it was worth four hundred and eighty thousand dollars, and you still insisted on swapping with me?”

Hailey’s eyes turned red instantly.

“I kept quiet about the tag so you wouldn’t freak out! The bike was perfectly fine when I gave it to you! How was I supposed to know you’d wreck it?”

Theo immediately stepped in front of her.

“Whoever wrecks the bike pays for it. That’s club rules.”

A cold scoff escaped my lips.

“When I asked to take photos, who blocked me?”

“When I warned everyone the frame was structurally damaged, who ordered me to keep riding?”

“Stop shifting blame,” Theo said, his expression cold and unyielding. “Dozens of eyes saw it. The bike snapped while you were riding it.”

At the sound of “Don Lucchesi,” the very men who had forced me into the swap scrambled backward, desperate to distance themselves.

“Yeah, whoever broke it pays for it.”

“Vivienne, don’t you dare drag the whole club down with you.”

Hailey suddenly found her confidence again.

“Who else could be responsible? You expect me to pay for your crash?”

I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and dialed Damian directly.

“I’m in the Catskills. Come get me.”

He caught the tone in my voice instantly.

“Are you hurt?”

“Minor injuries. I’m sending you my location.”

Forty minutes later, two black cruiser motorcycles leading a fleet of heavy SUVs roared up the mountain road, blocking off both ends of the trail simultaneously.

A black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the very front.

Damian Lucchesi stepped out, followed closely by his second-in-command and a handful of bodyguards.

Dressed in a dark shirt and a long black coat, his calm demeanor commanded immediate silence, forcing every biker to avert their eyes.

A real Don never needed to shout. His presence alone was an absolute threat.

Hailey scrambled forward as if grabbing onto a lifeline.

“Mr. Lucchesi! It was her! Vivienne ruined your bike!”

Damian’s eyes followed her pointed finger straight to me.

The moment he saw my swollen, bruised face and my blood-soaked riding pants, an unsettling stillness took over his entire body.

“Who touched her?”

Theo took a step forward.

“I’m the Prez of the Iron Raven MC’s New York chapter. This was strictly an internal club—”

Damian’s second-in-command cut him off, stepping directly into his path.

“The Don didn’t ask who you were.”

I leaned against the wall of the ditch and limped upward.

“Damian.”

The single word echoed across the trail, plunging the entire mountain into absolute, dead silence.