"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"Yes." And I am. Watching her lose pieces of herself because of me is its own kind of torture.
"I need something," she says, pulling her hand back. "I've been thinking about what you said last week. About me and the baby being safer at the clubhouse."
I wait, not wanting to push.
"If I move there—if—I need my own space."
My chest tightens. "Okay."
"A room that locks. Only I have the key. No one else. Not even you."
Everything in me rebels against it. The need to know, to control, to protect rises like bile. But I see her watching, waiting for me to fail this test.
"Okay."
"You hate it."
"Yes."
"But you'll do it?"
"Yes."
She studies me for a long moment. The baby moves between us, visible through her shirt, our son making his presence known.
"I'm not saying yes," she finally says. "Just... considering."
It's not enough. It's everything.
That evening, the DA calls a meeting. Local prosecution, not feds, but still enough weight to crush us all. Tommy and I sitacross from a woman who looks like she eats broken men for breakfast and picks her teeth with their bones.
"The war between your clubs destroyed three businesses, put seven people in the hospital, and turned my city into a battlefield." She slides photos across the table—burned buildings, blood on pavement, everything we've done laid out like evidence at judgment. "Someone takes responsibility, or I prosecute everyone."
"What kind of time we talking?" Tommy asks.
"Three to five for arson. Out in eighteen months with good behavior."
I start to speak, but Tommy cuts me off. "I did it. All of it. Zane tried to stop me, but I was out of control. Grief, you know? Makes a man do stupid things."
"Tommy—"
"It's done." He looks at me, and I see peace there. Acceptance. "You have a family now. I don't. This is my call."
The DA studies us, knowing it's bullshit but not caring as long as someone pays. "Mr. Cooper, you're prepared to plead guilty to these charges?"
"Yes."
"You understand you're looking at three to five years, possibly eighteen months with good behavior?"
"Yes."
She closes the file. "Report for processing Monday morning. Don't make me hunt you down."
After she leaves, I grab Tommy's shoulder. "You don't have to do this."
