“For your brothers. For this.” She gestures toward the chapel, the casket, and the world we’re now standing in without a guide. “You need them. And they need you.”
“I need you more,” I say, voice raw.
She leans in, rests her forehead against mine. “I’m not leaving you, Isaiah. I’m just... stepping back a little. So you can become the man your father believed in.”
I study her. Her eyes won’t quite meet mine. Her lips press together like she’s swallowing something heavy. “What aren’t you saying?”
She kisses me instead. Slow. Full of something that tastes like both a promise and a goodbye. Then she pulls back.
“I’ll see you later,” she whispers, standing.
“Aria…”
“Go to them,” she says. “They’re waiting.”
And before I can argue, she turns and walks out of the chapel.
I sit there, surrounded by ghosts and the silence of things left unsaid, watching the woman I love disappear into the night, and not knowing it’ll be the last time for a long time.
After the burial, we gather in the old lot behind the chapel. Not all of them know what this is yet. They think it’s just a moment to breathe. But I asked for the young ones, the next generation, to stay.
A dozen of us stand in the July heat with our jackets unzipped, hair slicked back. Hands twitchy from the need to do something when there’s nothing to fix.
The prospect Killian Drake still has that buzz cut and jittery energy from his military days. Nova and Caine Wild, two other prospects, are twins with too much chaos between them and not enough structure. The final prospect, Zane, with the snake tattoo behind his ear, is watching me like he’s trying to decode something.
August and Collateral Damage, two members who don’t have a rank, lean against their bikes, faces unreadable, arms crossed like a damn guardian.
Crusher, Honor, City, Rampage, Rock, Throttle, Draft, and our newest member, Hurricane, watch me with watery eyes. Dad’s death hit these men the hardest. He helped shape them into the loyal patch members they are today. Men who made this life into a legend.
I step onto the flatbed trailer. The same one we used last year for a fireworks run. Now it’s my stage.
“We laid my father to rest today,” I begin. “And with him, we buried a legacy that can’t be replaced. Tama King built this club out of nothing. He fought tooth and nail to give men like us, outsiders, misfits, war-torn souls, a place to call home.” I pause, letting the wind move through the silence. “But this isn’t the end of Saints Outlaws. It’s the rebirth.Steel-forged.You hear me?”
They nod. A few make sounds low in their throats. Not quiet words. More like a belief beginning to form.
“I’m not here to be him,” I continue. “I’m here to be me. And I’m here to tell you this, from this day forward, we choose protection over pride. Unity over ego. No more lone wolf bullshit. No more grudges over old blood. We ride for each other, or we don’t ride at all.”
Their eyes hold mine. Every last one.
“This world’s going to come for us harder than ever now that they know the General’s gone. But they’ll find out quick, we don’t break! We don’t scatter. We evolve, we expand. We fortify!”
August lifts his chin. “And what do we do if someone breaks rank?”
I look him dead in the eye. “We remind him who we are. And if they can’t ride straight, they don’t ride with us.”
Nova mutters, “Damn right.”
I scan them all, one by one. “You’ve got a choice, all of you. Be the reason this club gets stronger, or be the reason we all fall. But know this…” I take a breath. The first real breath I’ve had all day. “The crown’s heavy. But I wear it for all of us.”
They nod. Not a single one walks away. The torch is passed, and I’ll keep it lit with everything I have.
I don’t find out Aria’s gone until I get home. Her suitcase is missing, and the closet is half empty. Drawers are left open, like she pulled her life out fast, like it burned to touch. No note, no message. Just the ghost of her laugh in the rooms we used to fill, and the scent of us deep in the sheets.
I call her phone. It rings once, then straight to voicemail. I call again and again.
Each silence hits harder than the last. Like she’s not just gone but erased. I stare at the screen until my eyes ache, like maybe I can call her back with want alone.
Nothing.
