“I don’t know what you’re talking about, psycho,” the guy yells, his voice croaking.
“Ballistic,” I say cautiously. I don’t use his real name ‘cause the bastard on the floor doesn’t need to know it, if he doesn’t already.
“Fuck off, man,” he replies. “It was my job to protect her, not yours.”
“I’m not here for her, I’m here for you,” I respond. “Did he tell you anything?” I put my gun back in my waistband, find my cigarettes, and tilt my head to light another one. I take a deep breath and walk up to him. “Well, you gave him a good beating. Good job.” My father’s footsteps approach and Asher hisses something that I know will keep him at a distance.
“Well, the whole Vanderberg deal didn’t really work out for you and your friends, did it?” I grin at the man lying underneath Brooks. “So, who do we need to talk to?”
“Like you won’t kill me if I tell you,” the man sobs.
“Uh, yeah, he will, but if you tell us, you know we will punish the bastard who caused your death, won’t you?” I crouch down next to him. “Just tell him and get it over with.”
“All I know is Vanderberg’s name, and I got an address.”
“Spit it.” I open my notes app and, as I type in the address, Brooks leisurely cuts his throat.
As soon as we’re outside, I roar at him, “By yourself, Brooks? You forget what we agreed on?”
He pushes my shoulder and walks past the rest of the club members. “Fuckoff, Ky. She’s my wife.”
“And my mom’s sitting with a boy who lost his mom and whose father gets himself killed because he doesn’t rely on the club. Asshole.” I stomp after him.
He turns around abruptly. “Fuck off. I gotta do this, man.”
“No,” I yell. “No, what you gotta do is go home and talk to that kid. Let him cry and make sure he doesn’t become an orphan. You gotta make sure we go backtogetherto get Jen, that we punish those assholestogether,and we bring her hometogether.” I grasp his chin. “You gotta make sureshedidn’t die for nothing. Mark my words, Jen’s revenge is coming, and you will not be joining her. The muscle twitches and I think my words are affecting him.
At least, I hope so.
Thirty-Three
ThefeelingofRebelin my arms is indescribable. Somewhere deep in my chest, a cold, heavy resignation had taken root—like a stone dropped into a still well, sinking beyond reach. I had accepted, with a pain too vast to name, that I would never hold my daughter again. That she would grow up with Kyler. That he was all she had left. And in the darkest corners of my mind, I clung to that thought like a lifeline: that at the very least, she still had him.
Thank God it turned out that way. But there are no words—nothing even close—to capture what it does to me, holding her again. Feeling her small arms wrapped around my neck, the rise and fall of her breath against my chest, the familiar scent of her hair like a memory I never thought I’d get back. Silent tears slipdown my cheeks as she buries her face into the hollow of my shoulder, as if she never left. I’m on my knees in front of the fire, its soft crackle the only sound in the room, inside Abby and Kai’s home—but in this moment, my whole world is just her and me.
“You’re back,” Rebel whispers in my ear. “I thought…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and I’m glad she doesn’t. “Where’s Brandon’s mom, Mom? Where’s Miss Jen?”
The sob in my throat’s impossible to hold back, and when she looks up at me, I’m sure she can see it in my eyes. I slowly shake my head.
“Oh,” is her only response, and then she turns to Brandon. He’s curled up beside Norah on the couch, knees pulled tight to his chest, eyes fixed on nothing. Small and silent in a world far too big for him. Rebel slips from my arms and pads over without a word. She climbs up beside him, leans in, and gently rests her head on his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. And somehow, that simple touch—the quiet trust of it—makes my heart ache in the softest, sweetest way.
“Mom,” she says softly. “I’m really happy you’re back, but I can’t leave Brandon alone.”
And I swear, at that moment, my heart shatters once more.
I crawl next to them on the couch and say, “Let’s watch a movie. All of us.” I gesture toward the couch so Bel gets the hint to sit down.
I put onPeter Pan, and the room slips into a hush. We watch the screen in silence—some of us following the story, others drifting into the quiet corners of our own thoughts. No one speaks. And for a little while, that’s enough.
Just as Hook is being chased by the crocodile to be eaten, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a little after one in the morning and Rebel is leaning against me. She’s fast asleep. Brandon’s lying with his head on her lap, also asleep.
I stare wide-eyed at the two girls lying on the other couch. Who’s knocking on the door at this hour? My heart leaps to my throat, pounding so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Abby is on her way to the hall.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
She tilts her head and says, “Girl, it’s one of the boys. No one comes here without going through the clubhouse. You’ve gotta go through the gate first. No one… And Crusher’s been sitting in my rocking chair since Ky left.”
