She turned to face me. “And they agreed?”
“They voted on it.” I met her eyes. “But yes. They agreed.”
“Why?”
“Because I told them I’d rather be voted out than keep lying to you.” I paused. “And because Glitch pointed out that if you were going to betray us, you would have done it already. When you caught me with Crystal, you could have gone to the cops with stuff you’ve seen and heard. You didn’t.”
Something flickered in her expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition.
“I’m telling you this because you deserve the truth,” I continued. “And because I trust you. If you can’t handle this world—if knowing who I really am and what I do is too much—I understand. I won’t blame you for walking away.” I paused. “But you deserve to make that choice with real information. Not lies.”
She was quiet again, processing. I waited, giving her space.
“You run guns,” she said finally. “Rival gangs—”
“MCs.”
″—rival MCs are threatening me to get to you.” She shook her head slowly. “This is not what I signed up for, Jacob.”
“I know.”
“You’re telling me that my life involves violent criminals and people taking photos of me to use as leverage.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve known this the whole time. This is the world you’ve always lived in, and I was just... floating on the surface of it. Thinking I understood who you were.”
“You understood who I was. You just didn’t know what I did.”
She laughed bitterly. “That’s quite a distinction.”
“It is, though.” I leaned forward. “I’m the same man who burned that mattress, who destroyed that desk, who’s trying to become someone worthy of you. The gun running doesn’t change that. It’s just... the context I exist in.”
“The context that’s threatening my life.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t deny it. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that loving me puts you in danger. I’m sorry that the life I’ve built has consequences that touch you. But I’m not sorry for telling you the truth, even if it means you decide to leave.”
Indira walked to the couch and sat down, not next to me but on the far end. Her eyes were fixed on the leather box.
“You risked your position in the club,” she said slowly. “You told them you’d rather be voted out than lie to me?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you were right.” I shifted to face her more fully. “When you confronted me about keeping secrets, you said my first instinct was to control rather than trust. And you were right. When things got hard, I fell back into old patterns. I decided what you could and couldn’t handle instead of letting you decide for yourself.” I paused. “That’s not the man I want to be. That’s not the partner you deserve.”
She was quiet, her fingers tracing the edge of the box with the cuts in it.
“So you’re choosing honesty,” she said. “Even though it could cost you everything.”
“I’m choosing you.” I met her eyes. “I’m choosing to be the man who trusts you with the truth, even when the truth is ugly. Because if I can’t do that, then everything I did doesn’t mean anything. It’s just window dressing on the same broken foundation.”
She opened the box and looked at both cuts.
“I’m angry,” she said quietly. “I’m angry that you waited until I confronted you to tell me this. I’m angry that your first instinct was to protect me by lying. I’m angry that the world you live in is so dangerous that loving you means constantly looking over my shoulder.”
I waited, barely breathing.
