We plan for an hour, all the roles assigned, surveillance points identified, backup plans for the backup plans. Ghost will hack their communications for real-time intel. Koa and Bear will position spotters. Maria coordinates her small team of clean officers. Victoria reaches out to a journalist she trusts from when she trained as a journalist.
Everyone has their piece of the puzzle to play in this intricate web we’re weaving. Everyone has skin in this game.
Finally, the others file out, leaving just Maria and me in the Chapel. The silence stretches, heavy with twenty-four years of loss, pain, and survival.
And finally, we can hash out all this bullshit I have been holding onto since she arrived and turned my world upside down. “I thought you were d-dead.” My voice cracks on the words. “For twenty-four years, I thought you died in thatfuckingdesert.”
Maria’s eyes well with honest tears as she looks at me like my mother used to.
The mother whodidn’tabandon me.
“I’m sorry. Diesel, I’m so, so sorry.”
“You survived. You made something of yourself.” I force the words out past the tightness in my throat. “That’s… that’s good.”
We don’t hug.
It’s too soon, too much history, too many scars that haven’t healed.
But we look at each other with something like understanding.
She survived hell and clawed her way to respectability.
I survived abandonment and built a family from broken men.
We’re both fighters.
Both survivors.
Just on opposite sides of the law.
“After this is over…” I say quietly, “… maybe we can talk.Reallytalk.”
Maria nods, wiping her eyes. “I’d like that.” She exhales, then turns and leaves, and I’m alone in the Chapel with the ghosts of who I used to be. The boy who watched his mother disappear. The teenager who learned to survive on rage and cunning. The man who built an empire on loyalty and blood.
The poker chip is back in my hand before I realize I’ve pulled it out.
I don’t get much time with my thoughts before Victoria appears in the doorway. She looks uncertain, vulnerable—two things I’ve rarely seen on her.
“Sin, I—”
“You lied to me.” The words leave me like ice, cold and sharp. “Aboutevery-damn-thing.”
Her chin snaps up, defiance flashing. “You lied to me too! You knew who I was the whole time.”
“That’s different.” My voice drops to a growl. “I was protecting my club.”
“And I was trying to find out who killed my brother.” Her voice spikes, raw pain breaking through her veneer. “Don’t youdareact like you have the moral high ground here.”
My fists clench, my shoulders square as accusations spit out between us like bullets. Her deception. My manipulation. The nights we both spent in the same bed, playing games with each other’s hearts.
“You knewexactlywhat you were doing, sweetheart,” I snarl. “Coming intomyworld,myclub. Pretending. Reporting back. Every time you smiled at me, it was a fucking lie.”
Her eyes blaze. “And you knewexactlywhat you were doing when you pulled me in. You think I don’t know whatyouarecapable of? You think I don’t know what I walked into?” She steps forward, voice trembling with fury. “You fucked me in your room full of gold, knowing I was a cop, knowing what it would do to me, the impossible position it would put me in, and you expected me to do nothing about it.”
The words slam into me harder than a punch. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in with every breath. “Don’t twist this on me,” I snap back, taking a step toward her. “I didn’t force you into that room. I didn’t force you into my bed. You came to me. Again and again. And you came, again and again and agai—”
Her hands shake as she gestures at me, voice cracking under the weight of her anger. “And every time I did, it tore me apart, Sin! Because I didn’t know what was real anymore. Because I was standing there loving a man whomight have had my brother killed!”
