Erase

ERASE SONS OF GODS MC BOOK 4 ELIZABETH KNOX LONDON KINGSLEY CONTENTS About Erase / Blurb Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 About the Author: Elizabeth About the Author: London Erase This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Erupt. Copyright © 2023 by Elizabeth Knox & London Kingsley. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information, contact E. Knox & L. Kingsley. Editing: Kim Lubbers, Knox Publishing Proofreading: Beth Hale, Magnolia Author Services Formatting: R. Epperson, Knox Publishing Cover Designer: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations Photographer: Wander Aguiar, Wander Aguiar Photography Created with Vellum ABOUT ERASE / BLURB WE’RE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL IN LOVE. Dion Ever since my dad, Zeus, the leader of the Sons of Gods MC, kicked my mom, Risk, out of the club, I’ve been worried that he might see me as somehow less important. Not that I think it’s really likely—but still, that fear sits like a stone in the pit of my stomach. So when I get the chance to prove myself to him by going undercover with our rivals, the Burning Heretics MC, I jump at it just to prove myself. But I’m certain he’ll never approve of me falling for the rival MC leader’s daughter. I never expected to meet a woman like Rebellion, and now I don’t know what to do. The only thing I know for sure? I’m f**ked. Lacey Too proud. Too smart for my own good. And too determined to make my own way in the world. My whole life, those are the things my father’s club members have said about me. It’s why they call me Rebellion. And when I realize that the man I’m falling in love with isn’t who he says he is, I know my only choice is to live up to my nickname. Even if it means they’ll erase me—if they don’t take me out for being a traitor to the club, they’ll at least pretend like I never existed. I’ll lose everything I’ve ever known. Yeah. I’m definitely f**ked. ***Erase is the fourth book in the Sons of Gods MC series by Elizabeth Knox and London Kingsley. The Sons of Gods MC is intended for mature audiences only (18+) and may include triggering subject matter. Please proceed with caution. PROLOGUE Rebellion “Art school! Are you insane?” My father, head of the Burning Heretics motorcycle club in Atlanta, crosses his arms over his burly chest and glares at me from across the desk in his small, cinderblock-walled office. I stand my ground, even though my heart races. “Yes. Art school. There are plenty of things I can do with an art degree these days.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Nothing useful. What are you gonna do? Custom bike paint jobs? Pinstriping? Airbrushing?” I clench my teeth. There’s a reason my father’s club name is Control. He’s president of the club, and he treats everyone in his life as if he owns them—so it’s not just me, but sometimes I think it’s especially me. I inhale deeply, trying to catch my breath to maintain my calm. I’ve spent the last six weeks gathering information about the Atlanta School of Art. Not just what it takes to get in and how much it costs but what I can do with the degree once I have it. I don’t want to spend my life tagging buildings for the club—though, as far as I can tell, that’s the most useful thing Control can think of for me to do for the Burning Heretics. And I know that’s the next question—how will getting an art degree help Control keep his grip on the club? Because that’s what everything comes down to for Control. How can it help him? It doesn’t help him. It might as well not exist. That tendency to think of everything in terms of the club makes him an effective leader—but a shitty father, as far as I’m concerned. I shove down my instant response, which is to fling myself around and leave the room, then go do my own thing. For as long as I can remember, from the time I was just a child running around the clubhouse, I have always been determined to do what I want to do. My father has been equally determined to make sure I did what I was told. To say we have a contentious relationship is putting it mildly. And yet, if I’m going to follow my dream—go to art school, maybe even end up working for one of the big animation studios in Atlanta—I’m going to need his help. So, instead of following my instincts and slamming out of the room, I pull my portfolio out of the case I carry it in. Sitting on top of the artwork is my plan of action. I’ve made it as professional and important looking as I possibly can because I want him to know I’ve considered all the possible ramifications of attending art school. “I’ve worked out a budget for the next four years,” I tell him. “It covers everything—tuition, supplies, housing.” His eyes narrow, and he holds out one hand. “Let me see it.” I take his willingness to even look at it as a good sign. I mean, I’m sure he’ll find something wrong with it—I didn’t inherit his head for numbers, but I’ve gone over it again and again, trying to think of everything Control might object to. As I pass it to him, my hand is shaking, and my acceptance letter slips out of