Victorious part 2 the la.., p.1
Victorious: Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC Series Book 6), page 1
K E Osborn
USA Today Bestselling Author
VICTORIOUS: PART 2©
The LA Defiance® MC Series Book 6
K E Osborn®
USA Today Bestselling Author
Copyright 2025 K E Osborn
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations, or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Disclaimer: The material in this book is intended for mature audiences ages 18 and older.
Content and trigger warnings for K E Osborn’s books can be found [Here].
ISBN: 978-1923320222
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Cover model by Hayden
Photography by Emma Jane Photography
Cover Image Copyright 2025
All Rights Reserved
FightMND
There is an amazing man here in Australia. A man who has been fighting for years longer than we all thought possible. That man is Neale Daniher AOM. Diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease in 2013, his fight began, and through his unwavering courage, he brought all of Australia along for the ride. Because of Neale and the spotlight he shone on MND, I have written multiple characters with ‘The Beast’ as he calls it. The life expectancy from diagnosis is two to three years, with a small percentage (5-10%) who will live for ten years or more. Currently, Neale is in his twelfth year at the time of writing this. His courage, strength, and fight have always made me look up to him, and my character, Bella, is an ode to Neale and the fight he will have to inevitably go through.
If you would like to support Neale’s fight to find a cure for ‘The Beast,’ please follow the link to donate:
https://fightmnd.org.au/
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Blurb
Vegas was supposed to be a road trip.
A simple job to get me away from the chaos back home.
But it turned out to be something so much more.
A forbidden connection that could never be stopped.
In the neon-lit shadows of Sin City, Phoenix and I finally give in to what’s been burning between us. With no big brother looming over our every move, we’re free to explore our newfound romance. Phoenix touches me like I’m something sacred, kisses me like he’s been starving for it. Every night in his arms makes me forget the war raging back home—until reality crashes back in.
The club is under siege. Our family is scattered to the wind.
And the enemies we thought we’d defeated are rising stronger than before.
Maverick doesn’t know that Phoenix and I are together, or the secrets we shared in Vegas, including the ones that bind us together. And when we finally make it home, his fury will be devastating. With danger closing in from all sides, I have to choose between the family that raised me and the man who owns my heart.
But maybe the scariest part isn’t heading home. Maybe, when you’re blissfully happy in the City of Sin, and you’re on the run from the Cartel, perhaps the scariest part is, you won’t make it home at all.
From USA Today Bestselling Author K E Osborn comes the highly desired sixth book in the LA Defiance MC Series.
This is a forbidden love, forced proximity, high-stakes romance featuring Vegas heat, family secrets, and a love worth fighting for. This is Part 2 of the explosive Victorious trilogy.
Dedication
We’re halfway there.
And while we started with heartache,
Part 2 offers short-term relief.
Enjoy the budding romance and relish in the revelry that the City of Sin brings.
Because when the chaos inevitably comes, you’re going to be holding your breath…
… or throwing your Kindles!
A Note to the Reader
For your convenience, below is a list of terms used in this book.
Any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the author.
All The Rizz — Slang for charisma or the ability to charm and attract others, especially in a romantic or flirtatious context.
Blue Jay — Code Name for Haven when she was an elite assassin for The Nest.
Chapel —The room where the Defiance club members congregate to have their ‘church’ meetings.
Church —The name of important club business meetings where only patched members can attend.
Cut —Vest with club colors.
Do it for the Plot — To do something regardless of the potential for a negative outcome.
Hummingbird — Code Name for Poppy when she was in training at The Nest.
Low-key — Gen Z term meaning they’re secretly obsessed.
Mija — Can be variants of sweetie, honey, sweetheart, or babe in Spanish.
Nighthawk — Code Name for Cassandra Marshall, an elite assassin who trained under Blue Jay for The Nest.
Pop Off — In the context of social media, when a post or video ‘pops off,’ it means it’s gaining significant attention and engagement, potentially going viral.
Princesa — Princess in Spanish.
Puta — A prostitute or woman who has many casual sexual encounters or relationships. (A derogatory slang Spanish word.)
The Nest — An elite underground establishment of trained female assassins run by The Rojas Cartel in Tijuana, Mexico. The Nest was disbanded, and all junior trainees were sent back to their families.
Watching Your Six – A term that means watch your back.
Table of Contents
Grab Your Exclusives
Blurb
Dedication
A Note to the Reader
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author
Chapter One
CLOVER
Screams tear through the darkness, the hoarse sound raw, frenzied, building like continuous gunfire.
First, the pain.
Second, the rage.
And then, it doesn’t end. It’s ripped from them, spine-deep, as if their throats are being carved open.
I just can’t tell if the screams are coming from them or me.
Gunfire pops in stuttering bursts, bullets zipping through muscle, splintering bone. The metallic clink of ricocheting bullets is drowned out by the thud of bodies hitting concrete. Liquor ignites where bottles shatter, fire blooming across the floor as if hell itself has opened beneath the clubhouse.
Alpha’s arm is snapped backward, elbow bending the wrong damn way, while a Rojas soldier laughs.
Haven’s screams splinter into sobs as they drag her by the hair, glass embedding in her back. Maverick’s face is a mask of rage until they crush his kneecap with a crowbar. The sound, oh God, the sound, it makes me gag.
They’re not just being killed.
They’re being unmade.
Fingernails peeled off.
Skin carved into.
Eyes swollen shut from repeated blows.
Loki is nailed to the wall by his palms, the blood dripping slowly and steadily, resembling a clock ticking down, his bloodied and pummeled face trying hard to stay conscious.
To fight.
But the Cartel soldier slams another fist into Loki’s face, forcing his body to fall limp and hang by his confined palms.
It’s a warning.
A promise as a Cartel soldier rips at Bea’s clothing in front of him, pinning her to the floor. Her screams pierce through the clubhouse as she fights frantically to get him off her.
The smell of scorched flesh churns my stomach as a blowtorch h
And the begging turns to silence.
The kind that means another member of my family has just stopped breathing.
And still it rages on.
The Rojas don’t rush their art…
They perfect it.
I run, hearing Maverick scream, my feet taking off as fast as I can up the stairs of the Chapel.
But the Chapel walls aren’t walls anymore.
They’re canvases.
Blood smeared like fucking artwork, dripping, Jackson Pollock style.
Maverick is lashed to the president’s chair, South’s eyes wide, his fingers pressed to my brother’s stomach as Maverick’s intestines slip through South’s fingers while he frantically tries to hold them in.
And over it all, a scream, a plea.
“Clover!” Maverick whimpers, his terrified eyes finding mine.
The metallic tang of blood chokes me. It coats my tongue, my teeth.
It’s a vision.
A nightmare.
A psychic gutting.
But it feels real. So fucking real.
My family. My club. My blood.
All of them are broken.
But I’m the one who left.
Haven’s hand reaches out from behind the Chapel door, her fingers trembling, her skin flayed raw.
“C-Clover,” she whispers, just like our brother before her. Then her lips stop moving. Her eyes vacant, her final breath leaves her, and I choke on a sob.
My body shakes violently, the scream clawing its way up my throat burns like acid.
Like punishment.
I did this.
I let them die.
“Clover!”
My siblings are calling me again.
“Clover!”
Clenching my eyes tighter, I try hard to reach for them, my breathing racing so fast as they move farther and farther from sight.
“Clo!” The voice shatters everything, as rough hands grab me. Their grip is strong, anchoring.
Real.
My eyes snap open, my vision blurs, but I feel it. The weight of Phoenix’s palms cupping my face, the heat of his body crowding mine. “Clover, breathe. Jesus, look at me.” His intense blue eyes meet mine, and somehow, the vision stutters. The reality fractures, and for one awful, soul-tearing second, I don’t know if I’m still trapped in it, or if Phoenix is dead, too, and I’m hallucinating him back to life.
But then I see his eyes—wild, angry, scared.
I gasp, dragging in a much-needed breath that tastes like leather, sweat, and salvation, and suddenly, I’m here.
Not in the Chapel.
Not covered in blood.
But back in the desert at the abandoned waterpark, sitting on the sand.
Phoenix pulls me in, my face crushed to his chest, his heartbeat a drum against my cheek.
But I can’t stop shaking.
Because the images won’t fade.
Because part of me still swears I heard Haven and Maverick die.
And I wasn’t there to stop it.
I clutch Phoenix’s shirt as if it’s my lifeline, fingers curling so tight they ache. The cotton bunches in my fists, damp with sweat or maybe tears.
I can’t tell.
“Hey,” Phoenix murmurs, his voice low but firm, his breath warm against my temple. “You’re here. With me. You hear that?”
I shake my head, even though I can. I hear everything. His voice. His heart. The groan of the truck as it roars to life behind us from the mechanic bringing her back to life.
But beneath it all, the screams still echo.
“They’re dead,” I whisper. My voice resembles cracked glass. “They’re all dead.”
Phoenix pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. His brows furrow, his jaw tight like he’s holding something back, probably panic of his own. But his hands don’t waver. One stays cradling the back of my head, and the other slides to my jaw, grounding me with his touch.
“You’re spiraling,” he says, hard and certain. “Whatever that was, it’s not real.”
But it felt real.
The blood.
The screams.
“I saw it,” I croak. “Haven… they tortured her. And Mav? Oh God, Mav. They—” My chest caves. The air won’t come fast enough. I blink, and I swear I still see it, her body torn, glass embedded like crystals. Maverick’s intestines are pooling out of his body like some damn carnage you would see at a butcher store.
Phoenix doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t let go. “Breathe,” he commands, his voice cutting through the chaos in my head. “Just breathe with me, Clo.” His thumb traces circles against my cheek, steady and sure, and I try to match his rhythm.
In. Out. In. Out.
But the guilt, the guilt is suffocating.
“I should be there,” I choke out, my fingers digging deeper into his shirt. “I should be fighting with them, not sitting in the middle of nowhere while they—”
“Stop.” Phoenix’s voice resembles steel, uncompromising, unwavering. “You’re exactly where you need to be. Where Maverick told you to be.”
“But what if they need me? What-if—”
“What-if nothing.” His grip tightens, anchoring me to the present. “What-if doesn’t help anyone right now.”
The sound of metal clanging against metal cuts through our moment, and we both turn toward the truck. The mechanic, a weathered man with grease-stained overalls and kind eyes, emerges from under the hood of Phoenix’s truck, wiping his hands on a rag. “She’s all set,” he calls out, his voice carrying across the desert air. I don’t miss his concerned eyes assessing my panic while he continues. “Hose is fixed, coolant’s topped off. Should get you where you’re going without any more trouble.”
Phoenix’s jaw tightens. I feel the tension coil through his body like a live wire.
This is it.
The moment we’ve been dreading.
Getting back on the road means accepting that we might be driving toward nothing. Toward a world where everyone we love is already gone.
“Thank you,” Phoenix calls back, but he doesn’t move.
Neither of us do.
The mechanic approaches, sensing our hesitation. “You folks okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
More like a damn massacre, I think, but can’t say it out loud.
“We’re fine,” Phoenix lies smoothly, finally releasing me to stand. But I catch the tremor in his hands as he reaches for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
I tune out as they exchange their pleasantries, Phoenix counting out bills, as I study his profile. The hard line of his jaw. The way his shoulders carry too much weight. This man, who was supposed to protect me from a distance, is now the only thing standing between me and a complete and utter breakdown.
But he’s falling apart too.
I see it in the way his eyes dart toward his phone every few seconds, willing it to ring with news from home. I see it in the rigid set of his spine, like he’s bracing for impact. I see it in the careful way he’s not looking at me because looking at me means acknowledging that we’re both terrified.
The mechanic pockets the cash and tips his hat. “Drive safe now. And hey…” he pauses, studying us both with the wisdom of someone who’s seen plenty of broken people pass through this long strip of endless desert, “… whatever’s waitin’ for you down the road, you’ll face it together, and that’s worth somethin’.” He dips his hat at me, somehow giving me a small amount of comfort as he turns back for his truck, ducks in, and takes off without another word.
After he drives off, we’re left standing in suffocating silence.
Phoenix runs a hand through his dark hair, the gesture rough and frustrated. “We should go.”
But he doesn’t move toward the truck.
And I don’t either.
Because getting in that truck means making a choice, continue to Vegas like Maverick ordered, or turn around and race back to potentially find everyone we love already buried.
“Phoenix,” I whisper, my voice breaking on his name. “What if we’re making the wrong choice?”
He turns to face me, and the anguish in his blue eyes nearly buckles my knees. This man who always seems so sure, so in control, is just as lost as I am.
“I don’t know,” he admits, the words torn from somewhere deep. “Christ, Clo, I don’t know anything anymore.”
The honesty hits me harder than any lie ever could because Phoenix always knows what to do. He’s the one with the plan, the strategy, the next move mapped out three steps ahead.
