I would feel like the man I am when I’m not pretending.
The man with a ticking clock hanging over his head. A man who, in an hour, will see the woman he loves gunned down by a ruthless MC, and who, if he survives that gunbattle, will probably see June just long enough to say goodbye before Midnight puts a bullet in both our heads.
I heave a sigh and remember there’s no time for nostalgia — only for the present and the consequences of my choices.
And the lives that depend on them.
I shove the helmet back up into the closet, and I leave my apartment and step outside into the morning.
Ironwood Falls is lit by a sun that shines cheerily down from a clear blue sky, as if the smiling asshole of a golden orb is unaware of all the shit that’s about to go down. The parking lotis empty except for my bland beige sedan and a couple of other practical cars belonging to other residents in the building.
I climb into the sedan and sit there for a beat, gripping the steering wheel until my fingers ache. The Twisted Devils have every reason to put a bullet in my head. Rabid will want my blood. Claire will want answers, and my blood, too, probably.
And Molly…
Molly might actually pull the trigger herself.
I release the steering wheel. My hands stop shaking. There’s only one move I have left.
To be the man I should’ve been from the start.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Molly
On a barstool at the edge of the bar that I’m no longer allowed behind, I sit, my hands folded so tight my knuckles ache. It’s morning, and my body and heart both hurt from a night spent in the dark, crying until there was nothing left, with a rotating cast of men I call family — Tank, Bones, Reaper, Hammer — standing guard outside my door, all to make sure that I don’t flee from my impending punishment. That night passed, sleepless, the only rest I managed coming from those broken moments between sobbing and hating both Evan and myself. Mostly myself.
I should’ve known better.
Why did I have to love him?
The Noble Fir feels like a courthouse this morning. The men are all in church, while I sit under Alessia’s watchful eyes. There’s a Beretta on the table in front of her next to her espresso. Every so often, sounds of my trial drift out into the lobby; a muffled voice rises, gets clipped off, replaced by another. I can’t make out words. Just tone: anger, disappointment, surprise.
And underneath it, something worse.
Hurt.
My family is hurting because of my choices. My stomach flips, slow and sour.
I stare at the scuffed floorboards as if I look hard enough, I can find a seam and slip through it. Disappear. Spare them having to decide what to do with me. I told them I’d acceptwhatever punishment they laid down, that I’d do whatever it takes to make amends with them, but that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, I feel less like a member of this club and more like some vermin that deserves to be thrown out with the rest of the trash.
It hurts to sit here, being watched like the untrustworthy threat I’ve become, but I don’t move.
Because unlike someone I thought I knew, I’m not running.
Riley is busying herself with unnecessary cleanup work, her eyes downcast, her movements fidgety, but I don’t blame her. It’s her first lockdown. Every so often, she keeps finding reasons to drift closer to me — wiping counters that don’t need wiping, checking the coffee pot behind the bar, polishing silverware. She gives me a worried look every so often.
Finally, on her third time circling me, she sidles up beside me, with her back to Alessia.
“Hey,” she says quietly, stopping near my shoulder and pretending to be focused on wiping down the counter space in front of me while talking to me in a whisper-voice that I’m sure she thinks is sneaky, but is loud enough to be heard halfway across the bar. “You want some coffee?”
“I want a time machine,” I mutter.
Riley pauses a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Me too.” She turns away, then hesitates. “Molly… whatever happens, you know I’ve got you, right?”
“What?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know you’ve helped me out so much. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t have Breaker. So, whatever happens, I love you, and I’ll help you. I just want you to know that.”
