She’d never witnessed it back then, but I had. Shotgun had tortured himself for days trying to pick between the two. We both understood how sacred Allegra was, and make no mistake, Allegra had been petrified of losing us. While I’d been worried, I’d not been scared. I knew what Hellfire were capable of when they worked together and what type of men they were. They couldn’t walk away and leave innocents undefended. That wasn’t in them.
Plus, Shotgun was strong when standing beside his brothers. As a club, they were cast iron. Which, I suppose, was at odds with Shotgun’s fear of telling them about us. Human quandaries. Belief in one thing and then doubting it two minutes later. Shotgun trusted Hellfire completely but doubted they’d accept us. He’d been proven wrong. They’d welcomed us both.
Human frailty led us to doubt what we had long taken for granted. A fatal flaw everyone had. It didn’t matter how familiar we were with someone; at one point, we’d think, what if? Doubt was a sneaky, nasty emotion. The past can and does leave scars that pop open at the worst times. Shotgun and I committed this offence with Hellfire. We judged them for judging us, even though they didn’t know about us.
Talk about screwed up.
Shotgun’s knowledge of what the MC had done to the prospect had fucked up his thinking. While none present today were involved, it had created a link between being non-heterosexual and punishment. It didn’t matter if Shotgun knew it wouldn’t happen; his illogical mind was in control. That pesky voice could cause a serious amount of damage. Shotgun believedhe had to prove himself constantly worthy of being a brother because of keeping his sexuality hidden.
The club based itself on letting brothers live how they wanted. But Shotgun wasn’t doing that and felt guilty and wary in case his secret had come out. So, he’d overcompensated. That was natural.
But at all times, two voices argued in his head. One saying that he could tell his brothers and trust them. The other argued that the prospect had died a cruel death and that they should keep quiet. When you’re at war with yourself, you’ll never be whole.
I sighed, my mind still spinning and reminiscing.
Shotgun now had peace.
It had been hard-earned and costly, but he was at ease with himself. That didn’t mean Shotgun wasn’t butt-hurt over Allegra’s actions, and the fact that we had a child out there that we didn’t know. Shotgun was deeply wounded and also blamed himself. Allegra had seen his anger and mistaken it. She thought he meant the words he’d spewed through guilt. Shotgun hadn’t. Instead, he was cursing himself for failing to make her understand, and that frustration had boiled over into a heated fight.
Allegra had reacted the same. Misjudged Shotgun and accused him of being a glory seeker. She was undeniably wrong, but from Allegra’s point of view, that made sense. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Shotgun step back and leave the war alone? Allegra hadn’t known Shotgun long enough to grasp thathe couldn’t. It hadn’t been a case of he wouldn’t; it wascouldn’t.
Allegra had forced Shotgun to choose and had lost. But that wasn’t her fault, although to outsiders it looked like it was. Hellfire had swiftly judged, but not realised the fear behind Allegra’s actions.
I understood.
Allegra’s parents had ignored her all her life and then disowned her as soon as they heard about our triad. Sure, Allegra had her grandparents, brother, and cousins, but the two people who were supposed to love her unconditionally didn’t. My biological parents had abandoned me, too, which was why I recognised Allegra’s raw emotions. Luckily, I had my adoptive parents, and they were fantastic. I’d been loved, and Mom told me every day I was her miracle child. Instead of feeling rejected, I’d grown up knowing I was special because I’d been selected.
Allegra didn’t have that fallback. Nobody had picked her and called her their chosen child. Yeah, Allegra’s grandparents fought to have her weekends and vacations. But Allegra still spent hours with parents who told her in every way possible that she was inadequate. Allegra had rationalised her grandparents’ fighting for her because they were duty-bound to do so. They’d not been unrelated people who’d picked her.
And that’s what she’d needed from Shotgun. To choose her above all the rest. And when he decided to fight, he’d failed her expectations. That might be needy, pathetic, and miserable, but it was real and raw. Hellfire thought she was being a bitch. Allegra hadn’t been. She’d been fighting for love and her future. It made me sad to consider she felt she’d had to do that.
Allegra and Shotgun were two wounded souls who’d discovered love with each other. In the midst of building something beautiful, ugliness had crept in. If we’d had more time, those fights wouldn’t have happened. Like me, Allegra would have understood why Shotgun chose the path he did. But time ran out, and fate intervened.
Despite what outsiders might believe, Shotgun wasn’t a prick. He was a decent guy trying to do the right thing, but he had insecurities and uncertainties. That didn’t paint my man as an asshole, but a human with human flaws and frailties.
The same way it didn’t make Allegra a bitch or weak—as my sisters thought of her. She wrestled with anxieties and self-doubts like everyone else. That made Allegra human. And I don’t care who said what, who called her names, because I understood what Allegra had suffered emotionally. Most old ladies had begged their husbands to stay, and not just in Hellfire. And each situation was unique, with different reasons. I didn’t judge anyone and wouldn’t. It’s regrettable that the words asshole and bitch were used to describe the two people I loved most.
“Fucked up. Twice,” Shotgun said from the doorway.
“Not a surprise. Guessed you’d done something,” I replied as I plated food.
“Allegra was in a crash a week ago because of me.”
I paused and absorbed that before continuing. “Tell me.”
“Confronted Allegra at the hospital about the kid. We fought…”
“Shotgun, I’ve seen the footage. I know what occurred,” I interrupted.
“Well, I upset her, and on the way home, Allegra was in a car accident. Leila found out today,” Shotgun said.
I stiffened and slowly turned my head to look at him. “Is she alive?”
“Yes. But Allegra has retrograde amnesia.”
“What?” I gasped and dropped the pan on the worktop.
“It means—”
