Her lips parted, eyes shining, and for a heartbeat, she looked ready to spit fire back, but it broke into a sob instead. She pressed her fist against her mouth, shaking hard and dropping to the ground.
“I can’t do this. I thought I was strong enough, but I’m not. He’s gone, Jay. Caleb’s... gone.”
And like that, the fire burned out.
My knees gave way, and I lowered myself beside her against the wall. For a long moment, I didn’t touch her because my own hands weren’t steady.
“I never cried for him,” I admitted, staring at the gravel. “Not once. Not even when I pulled his kutte off. I thought if I stayed cold, I could hold it all together. The club. Myself. Everything. But all I did was bury it, same as we buried him.”
Lucy’s head lifted, tears cutting bright tracks down her cheeks. “You loved him.”
“More than I can say.” My throat closed, but it didn’t stop the sting. Didn’t stop the tear that slipped free.
Her hand slid into mine, steadying its shake. “Then you didn’t let him down. You loved him. That’s what matters.”
I squeezed back, harder than I meant to, because if I let go, I’d come apart completely. “Then why does it feel like I lost both of you?”
Her breath hitched, and then she leaned into me, forehead against my chest, and I let her.
We sat there in the dark, two wrecks held together by grief. Her tears soaked into my kutte, and mine fell quietly into her hair.
Not President. Not fire. Just two people gutted by the same ghost.
For the first time since Caleb died, I let myself grieve.
Chapter 11
Lucy
Ihated myself for leaning on him, for letting my guard down, for giving him the one thing I swore I wouldn’t—my weakness. Caleb was gone, and somehow, I’d crumbled against the very man who’d gutted me years ago with words hurtful enough to scar.
My face still felt hot from tears, and my chest ached like I’d been split open. But the moment the clubhouse door came back into view, I shoved it all down deep where no one could touch it.
I followed Jay back to the bar, ignoring the scathing looks from Gage’s and Bishop’s whores, and watched as he poured us two more drinks. I downed mine in one, like he had, but couldn’t stop my face from scrunching up at the bitter, disgusting taste.
Jay smiled, his eyes narrowing for a moment, making my heart flutter, before he slammed a hand down on the bar. “Follow me.” He walked out from behind it, not checking to see if I was following or not.
I shouldn’t be doing this, I told myself. These guys were deadly; I was moving further into the lion’s den, and nobody even knew I was here. Not that I had anybody left who gave a damn anyway.
Jay went through the door at the back of the bar, and despite my reservations, my feet followed.The door slammed shut behind me, causing me to flinch.
I continued to follow Jay through the back hallway of the clubhouse, past a set of stairs, ageing maps, crooked photos of old runs, and the smell of oil and sweat. The deeper I went, the harder my pulse pounded.
It wasn’t fear exactly. It was proximity... to him.
He led me into the meeting room, complete with a round table cluttered with beer bottles, ashtrays, and stacks of handguns someone hadn’t bothered to clean. Faded patches were framed on the walls. A flag with the reaper skull was draped over a safe in the corner.
“Sit,” Jay said.
I did, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood behind his chair at the head of the table.
“You want in?” he asked.
“I said I did.”
He paced, hands on his hips. “This isn’t some Hollywood movie, princess. You don’t get to come in here with your brother’s name and pretend you know what this life costs, what you have to give up to be a part of it.”
“I’m not pretending.”
