Pyro squeezes my shoulder again."Go.She needs you."
"I've got blood on me."
"Then clean up first.But go.She's at the clubhouse terrified you're not coming back."
Rush steps forward."She's with the women.They're keeping her calm.But she needs to see you.Needs to know you're alright."
I nod slowly then force my body to move, to turn away from the corpse, to walk toward the door.
At the threshold, I stop and look back.Declan Fahy is dead.Enya's free.Warren's safe.
But I'm terrified.Terrified she'll look at me and see a killer.See violence.See exactly what I am.Terrified I just ruined everything we were building.
"Tank."Rush's voice is gentle."She's not going to blame you.She's going to be relieved."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do.Because I know what it's like to do terrible things for the right reasons.And she'll understand.Trust me."
I want to believe him.Want to think Enya will see this for what it was, protection and necessity.
But doubt eats at me as I walk to my bike and as I clean the blood off my hands with a rag from my saddlebag.Even as I ride back to the clubhouse.
I killed a man tonight.
For her.
And I don't know if she'll forgive me for it.
* * *
The clubhouse is quiet when I pull up.It’s later now.I’m changed and cleaned, needing to be this way as to not scare Enya when I returned.
I sit on my bike for a long moment.Engine off, just staring at the doors.
She's in there, waiting for me, no doubt terrified.
And I have to walk in and tell her Declan's dead.That I killed him.That it's over.
But what if she doesn't see it as over?What if she sees it as the beginning of something worse?What if she looks at me and sees a monster?
What if I lose her because I did the only thing I could do to keep her safe?
My hands shake on the handlebars.
I've faced down men twice my size.Taken beatings that should've killed me.Ridden through storms and violence and chaos without flinching.
But walking through those doors and facing Enya terrifies me more than anything I've ever done.
Because she matters.More than I want to admit.More than I know how to handle.
And I might've just destroyed the best thing that's ever happened to me.
I swing off the bike.Walk toward the doors.Each step feels heavier than the last.
My hand reaches for the handle.
What if she hates me?
