She's maybe sixty, with silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical bun and a face that's weathered but handsome.
She moves with the confidence of someone who's spent decades in this world and survived every bit of it.
"So," she says, her eyes finding me immediately. "You're the one causing all the fuss."
I freeze, dish towel in hand. "I'm sorry?"
"Don't be." She crosses to the coffee pot, pours herself a cup, and leans against the counter to study me. "I'm Loretta. Salvo's ol' lady. Michael, if you're using real names."
Salvo. The former President.
The man who founded the club, who brought Leviathan in, who shaped everything this place has become.
"I'm Ripley," I say, even though she clearly already knows.
"I know who you are." She takes a long sip of coffee, never breaking eye contact. "I know what you've been through. And I know what our President did for you."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know if she's judging me, approving of me, or something else entirely.
"He didn't have to," I manage.
"No. He didn't." Loretta sets down her coffee cup. "Levi's a hard man. Closed off. He's been that way since Michael brought him into the club—all ice and control and walls a mile thick. I've watched him run this organization for years, and I've never once seen him break protocol. Never seen him let emotion guide his decisions."
"Until now."
"Until you." Her gaze sharpens. "You understand what that means? A man like Levi doesn't break his own rules for just anyone. Whatever he sees in you, it's got him sideways. And a President who's sideways is a President who makes mistakes."
The words hit me like a slap. Is she warning me? Blaming me?
"I didn't ask him to?—"
"I know you didn't." Loretta's voice softens, just slightly. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying he sees something in you that matters. And that means you've got power here, whether you want it or not."
"I don't want power."
"Then what do you want?"
The question catches me off guard. I open my mouth, close it, try again.
WhatdoI want?
For three years, I wanted only one thing: to survive.
Everything else—dreams, ambitions, desires—got stripped away, crushed under Cain's heel until I forgot they ever existed.
"I don't know," I admit. "I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I want."
Loretta nods, like this is exactly the answer she expected. "You survived. That's no small thing. But survival isn't the same as living." She pushes off from the counter, pausing beside me on her way out. "You've got a chance to figure out who you are without him. Without the fear. Don't waste it."
She's gone before I can respond, leaving me standing in the kitchen with soapy hands and too many thoughts spinning through my head.
That afternoon, I call my mother.
I've been putting it off for days, finding excuses—I'm too tired, I don't know what to say, she'll hear something wrong in my voice.
But I can't avoid her forever.
She's probably worried sick.
