Always.
Bayou steps up, his shoulders squared but his jaw tight, like every muscle in his body is fighting to hold it together. His voice is rough when he starts, carrying that deep Cajun edge that always made him sound larger than life.
“Hurricane wasn’t just loud and obnoxious,” he says, his mouth twitching into something halfway between a smirk and a grimace. “He was strategically loud. Like when we were kids and I got cornered by those older boys from the next neighborhood over, Hurricane came in yellin’, banging trash can lids, swinging his arms like a wild bastard. Made so much goddamn noise they thought he had half the block behind him. Truth was, it was only him… one crazy son of a bitch making himself sound like an army.”
A few chuckles rumble through the crowd, rough and short-lived.
Bayou swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jerking, but he keeps going, “That was Hurricane. He could make one man sound like twenty when it came to protecting what mattered.”
My throat burns.He’s right.Hurricane could always turn himself into something bigger when the people he loved needed it.
That was his gift.
That was him.
Bayou shifts, dragging a hand over his mouth, his eyes shining, though he won’t let the tears fall. “People always ask what it’s like being a twin. Let me fucking tell you, it’s like having half your soul walking around outside your body. Hurricane wasn’t just my brother… he was my other half. When we were kids and our mom took her shit out on him, he’d come into my room after, bruised and bleeding, and all he’d say was, ‘At least she left you alone.’That was him. Always taking the hit so someone else didn’t have to.”
My chest caves in.
“God, I can see that boy, broken and bleeding, still trying to shield the people he loved. Still trying to shield m-me.” Bayou’s voice cracks, and he looks down, his fists curling tight at his sides before he finds the strength to keep talking, “When we grew up and joined the club, nothing changed. Hurricane took the gavel, and suddenly everyone was looking to him for answers, for protection, for leadership. And he stepped the fuck up every goddamn time. Even when it was breaking him in two, even when he was carrying more weight than one man ever should, he still carried it. For all of us.”
I grip Lani’s hand so tight my knuckles ache. Every word is a blade, sharp and true, but also a reminder of why I fell for him, why I trusted him with my heart.
Bayou drags in a shaky breath. “As president, Hurricane never made decisions lightly. When the Baroness cornered us,wanted us to betray our own brothers, he carried that shit on his shoulders alone before he came to us. I watched him damn near rip himself apart trying to find another way. That was him. He’d bleed himself dry before he’d sacrifice anyone else.”
His gaze lifts, locking with Ingrid’s across the crowd, and I see it, all the pain, all the love, all the hollow places his brother’s death left behind. “And speaking of family…” Bayou says, his voice raw now, his Cajun drawl thickening with the weight of it. “This man, who had every reason to hate mothers, who had every reason to shut his heart off, somehow found the space to love Ingrid with everything he had. When Reaper brought her into our lives, Hurricane could’ve resented her, could’ve shoved her out. Instead, he opened up and gave her the place she deserved… the mother he never h… had.”
Bayou’s voice falters, his lips pressing tight before he forces himself forward. “I watched him move heaven and fuckin’ earth to make sure Ingrid and South could be happy, even when it meant letting her go. And fuck did that kill him. He loved you fierce, Ingrid. That’s the kind of man he was. Hard as hell with his enemies, soft as fuck with the people he loved.”
Ingrid bursts into a sob, and South holds onto her tightly while tears streak down my cheeks before I even realize it. Bayou is painting him perfectly—this larger-than-life man who could terrify with a glare, but would melt when he tucked Immy into bed or kissed me like I was his whole world.
Bayou scrubs a hand over his face, shaking his head like he’s trying to push through the weight crushing him. “And K… Kaia…” His voice wavers when he says my name. “When you came around, Hurricane tried to play it cool, like he didn’t give a shit. But then you brought with you Little Lani, as he called you.” I glance at my sister with a small smile, tears glistening in her eyes. “And you saw straight through him. Lani, you had him wrapped tight around your finger from day one. And Hurricane,this bastard who could stare down Cartel bosses, would cave the second you smiled. Because that was family. That was his heart. The Hawaiian sisters who became his entire world. “
He exhales, hard and jagged, and the silence in the air feels like it’s pressing down on all of us. “As president, Hurricane didn’t just lead, he commanded,” Bayou says, his voice steadying, louder now, his chest heaving. “When he helped Alpha organizeOperation Darkfire, coordinating attacks across multiple cities, multiple chapters, he became the leader Reaper raised us to be. He took every hard lesson our old man drilled into us, carry the weight, protect your brothers, stand fucking firm, and he made it his own.”
Bayou paces once, fists clenching, his eyes wet and furious all at once. “When LA needed him, he didn’t hesitate. When the Bratva came for our crops, when the Cartel threatened our women, Hurricane didn’t back down. Not once. He stood between us and the fire every damn time. Because Defiance wasn’t just a patch to him, it was blood, it was breath, it was family, it was everything.” Bayou stops, his shoulders heaving like the weight of the world is pressing down on him.
His jaw trembles once before he grinds his teeth, forcing the words out low and gravelly. “The man who could clear a room with his mouth alone…” he rasps, shaking his head like he can’t believe it himself, “… was the same bastard who’d sit for hours reading to Immy. The same man who wouldn’t let Kaia lift a finger when she was pregnant. The same brother who made damn sure every man in this club knew he had a place at his table. He fought with everything he had. He loved with everything he had…”
He drags a hand over his face, and when his eyes finally lift, they lock onto mine. The grief in them is raw, unfiltered, and it rips through me like barbed wire. “He lovedyou,K-Kaia,” Bayou says, his voice breaking on my name. “With everythinghe fucking had. My brother, my twin, was a literal hurricane of a man. One minute, he’s a rogue killer, the next he’s a fucking cinnamon roll, and it drove us all insane. We never knew which version of him was going to blow through the door. But with you…”
His chest heaves, and he stabs a finger toward me like he’s daring me not to believe him. “With you, Kaia, wealwaysknew. With you, he was steady. Fierce. Loyal to a goddamn fault. I haveneverseen my brother more in love with anyone, or anything, than he was with you, Immy, and those two little peanuts you’re carrying.”
My vision blurs, tears stinging my eyes, because I know it’s true. I saw it every day in the way he looked at me, in the way he rested his hand on my stomach, like he could already feel our babies kicking from the inside.
I was so damn lucky.
Bayou’s voice drops, jagged, like broken glass in his throat. “He was a man on his fucking knees for you, Kaia. And in the end…” His voice breaks completely, his broad chest hitching as he tries to hold it together. His hands ball into fists at his sides, knuckles bone-white. “In the end, he gave every last piece of himself so the people he loved could keep breathing.”
He bows his head in a show of respect, his shoulders trembling, and for a long moment, he can’t speak. The air is silent except for the sound of his breathing, harsh and ragged, and a gentle breeze that somehow makes me feel like it’s Hurricane, only the more cinnamon roll version of him, letting us know he’s here.
With us, watching the fuss we’re making over him.
And somehow that thought soothes my chaotic mind.
When Bayou finally lifts his face again, his eyes are red, shining with tears he refuses to let fall. “Hurricane was the best brother I could’ve ever asked for,” Bayou says, his voice hoarse,scraped raw. Then he swallows hard, his whole frame quaking like the words are barely holding him up. “And I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to exist in this world without him.”
My heart shatters all over again.
