It’s probably just stress.
Everything about today feels like too much for my body to handle.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face again, but these feel different. These tears carry something besides grief—they carry gratitude, love, and the overwhelming realization that Hurricane’s family extends far beyond our little circle.
As our car passes, the bikers rev their engines in synchronized tribute, the sound rolling like thunder across the morning air. It’s loud, powerful, and completely perfect, because Hurricane was loud, powerful, and perfect in his own chaotic way.
“Daddy’s friends,” Immy says with satisfaction, as if this makes perfect sense to her.
“Yeah, baby,” I manage through my tears. “All of Daddy’s friends came to say goodbye.”
The sight gives me strength I didn’t know I had. Hurricane touched so many lives, meant so much to so many people, and I now realize I’m not the only one who lost him. This entire community, this brotherhood he helped build, they’re all grieving too.
And today, we’ll grieve together.
Today, we’ll celebrate the man who loved fiercely, lived boldly, and died a hero.
Today, we’ll say goodbye to Hurricane.
The prospect driving us slows as we pass through the formation, and I see some of the brothers clearly now. City, who’s been trying to hold everything together since Hurricane died. He never wanted to rise to the presidency this way. Bayou, Hurricane’s twin, standing tall but hollow-eyed beside his bike. Even through the window, I see how much weight he’s lost, how the grief has carved new lines into his face. He was always adamant he never wanted a position of power, but with Hurricane gone, and the Ladet lineage fading from the NOLA legacy, he felt it was his duty to finally stand up and take on his role as VP of the club.
There are faces I recognize from other chapters, brothers who have visited the clubhouse over the years. Men who respected Hurricane, who called him a friend, who understood what he meant to this entire community we’re a part of.
And then, as we round the final curve toward the ceremony site, I see something that makes my heart stop completely.
More bikers.
But these ones are different.
Hawaiian patches.
Oahu Defiance.
“No fucking way,” I whisper, and Lani turns to follow my gaze. Tears instantly flood my eyes, then fall rapidly down my cheeks.
“Is that?”
“Pono,” I whisper, recognizing the massive frame of the Oahu president even from a distance. “And Mauka. They actually came.”
My chest feels like it might cave in from the emotion flooding through me. Hurricane and I spent our honeymoon with them just months ago. We became family in those few short days. Pono promised that Oahu would always be in Hurricane’s debt for helping rescue Nalani from The Ministry.
But Ineverexpected this.
I never anticipated they’d fly thousands of miles to honor a fallen brother.
As our car comes to a stop, I see them more clearly. Not just Pono and Mauka, but Wipeout, Chopsticks, and Koa. Even Aunty Malia and Nalani are here, their warm smiles visible even through my tears. They’re dressed in traditional Hawaiian clothing beneath their cuts, and they’ve brought…
… something.
I can’t quite make out what it is from the car, but they’ve clearly prepared some kind of ceremony.
Another sharp pain grips my abdomen, this one strong enough to make me gasp softly.
Lani’s hand immediately finds mine. “You okay?” she asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
It’s just the stress.It has to be.
