My Mafia Brother’s Car Framed Me? Chapter 08

My Mafia Brother’s Car Framed Me? Chapter 08

One month later, Brooklyn.

The Iron Raven Mother Chapter held a disciplinary hearing inside an old church.

The criminal case had already entered Manhattan’s judicial process. What was being decided here was whether the New York chapter even had the right to exist anymore.

When they brought Theo in, he didn’t look like a Prez—he looked like a ghost. His patch was gone.

Hailey stood on the other side, equally gaunt and barely recognizable.

Word was they had been flinging accusations at each other endlessly throughout the investigation. Hailey was later hospitalized and lost the baby, while Theo denied their relationship entirely during his very first official interrogation.

Their so-called true love couldn’t even survive a single month.

After reviewing the recordings and evidence, the Iron Raven Mother Chapter stripped Theo of his Prez title on the spot, revoking his colors permanently.

The Iron Raven MC’s New York chapter was also stripped of its independent charter for systemic safety violations, enabling a president’s abuse of power, and mobbing a patched member.

Everyone involved in blocking the trail, forcing the bike swap, and committing perjury was blacklisted from all affiliated clubs.

In the MC world, colors represented identity, trust, and belonging.

—

Once publicly stripped of them, they could never enter any affiliated club as a “brother” ever again.

Upon hearing the ruling, Theo’s legs gave out.

Before being dragged away, he glared at me past the security detail.

“Vivienne, you ruined my life.”

I looked at him, completely unbothered.

“I didn’t.”

“You ruined yourself the moment you assumed an ordinary woman was an easy target.”

I turned and walked out of the church.

Damian’s car was parked by the curb.

He caught my eye and simply jerked his chin up.

“All wrapped up?”

“All wrapped up.”

At the same time, the Lucchesi family finished their internal audit and rerouted their transport lines. Damian didn’t retaliate against the lower-level members, choosing only to pull all family protection and partnerships from the New York chapter.

Stripped of their charter and credibility, the New York chapter disbanded shortly after.

Of those who had cornered me on the mountain, some left New York, some sold their bikes, and others tried to patch into different clubs—

—

only to find no one willing to take them in.

It wasn’t because they had offended the Don’s sister.

It was because they had already proven they would betray the rules when handed power, and turn into a mob when the other party seemed weak.

On a Sunday morning, I returned to my house in the New York suburbs.

Parked in the garage was a brand-new silver-and-black adventure bike, built with a high-mount exhaust, long-travel suspension, and heavy-duty skid plates—perfect for brutal terrain.

Damian tossed the keys over.

“If you’re gonna tear up the mountains, ride something that won’t snap under you.”

I caught them with a grin.

“Is this the Don’s apology gift?”

“It’s your brother’s.”

After leaving the Iron Raven MC, I founded my own club, naming it the Silver Wing MC.

Every member started as a prospect, regardless of family background, wealth, or gender. Road captains laid out the routes but couldn’t force anyone onto a faulty machine.

If anyone raised a safety concern, the entire pack stopped for an inspection.

—

We still demanded loyalty.

But that loyalty belonged to each other’s lives first, not the ego of a patch title.

For our first official ride, we rolled out of New York and headed north along the Hudson River.

The road captain’s voice came through the comms.

“Silver Wing, all riders set.”

I looked down the highway stretching far into the morning sun.

“Roll out.”

I kicked it into first gear and smoothly rolled on the throttle.

The engine roared to life as the wind rushed past me.

I was no longer chasing anyone’s pack, nor did I need anyone’s permission to be free.

The road ahead finally belonged solely to me.

—

The ride took us through winding mountain passes and along the river’s edge. The autumn leaves blazed in shades of gold and crimson. My new club members rode in formation behind me, their engines a steady, reassuring hum.

At the first rest stop, one of my prospects pulled up beside me.

“Vivienne,” she said, pulling off her helmet. “I just wanted to say—thank you. For giving me a chance.”

I recognized her. She’d been a hang-around with the Iron Raven MC, always on the periphery, always overlooked. She had talent and grit, but she’d never been given a real shot.

“You earned it,” I said. “You showed up. You rode clean. That’s all I needed to see.”

She smiled, and for a moment, I saw something of myself in her.

Later that night, around a campfire, the Silver Wing MC shared stories and laughed. No one was watching over their shoulder. No one was trying to prove anything.

Damian called me. “How’s the first ride?”

“Perfect,” I said.

“Good. The bike holding up?”

“Like a dream.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “I’m proud of you, Vivienne.”

I smiled into the phone. “Thanks, Damian.”

“Now get some rest. You’ve got a long road ahead.”

I hung up and looked at the stars wheeling overhead.

The road ahead was long. But for the first time in a long time, I was excited to see where it would lead.