Not exactly a polite thing to say to his son and heir, but I doubt Ark shed a lot of tears over his passing, which he confirms by growling, “I hope he rolls all the way to hell.”
I nod, because Wings has told me enough to know that things have been bad at the club for a few years. Booker grew increasingly paranoid before his death, punishing loyal members for imagined slights and promoting the bootlickers fortelling him what he wanted to hear. He’d patched in members of the Steel Vipers MC while I was still there, but in the last couple of years he started reviving their old business deals, including weapons running, drug dealing, and even trafficking omegas, according to some rumors.
“We've got a lot of healing to do,” Ark says, probably reading the sour expression on my face. “But we’ve got good people on our side now. New blood, who doesn’t give a shit about the old ways.”
I glance at Pitt, who’s watching me with unblinking concentration. “Looks like you’ve made some okay choices.”
“Be still my beating heart,” Pitt murmurs, and I smirk, because his grin is full of savage satisfaction despite my lukewarm praise. But he sobers quickly, his gaze bouncing between me and Wings. “You have to know that if you come back, we’ll look after you.”
I turn to Ark, because as much as Pitt is growing on me, he wasn’t there at the beginning. His reassurances can only go so far. “I spent years waiting to hear those words. Why should I believe them now?”
Ark’s lips tighten, his hand sliding down the bar until it’s an inch from my arm. “Because they’re coming from me. And the only thing I ever wanted was to keep you safe.”
I raise my brows at him. His words have the ring of sincerity, but he said something similar the last time I saw him and look where that got me. “By drugging me and putting me into the hands of strangers?”
He stiffens, his neck flushing under his tattoos. “I left you with your mother. She stayed with you…”
“She was gone,” I correct him, feeling sweat slice down my spine. I can smell my own bitter scent, and Wings shifts uneasily behind me, Pitts’ gaze resting on me like a burn. “When I woke up, they said she wasn’t feeling well and had to head home. Butshe left me a note. Told me to be a good girl for the Director, and she’d try to stop by on my birthday.” There’s no way to hide the angry tears burning their way up my throat, strangling my words. “You could’ve helped Wings hide me instead of throwing me away.”
Wings arm tightens around me, his mouth kissing away the first tear that slides down my cheek. Ark watches it with a blank expression, but his hand clenches into a fist where it rests on the bar. “They already knew,” he rasps. “They’d had eyes on you for weeks, waiting for you to present. I thought… I thought that at least you’d be safe from them. It might be hard at first, but you deserved a chance at a life away from the club.”
I shake my head, dashing away the tears that I can’t hold back. “I never wanted that. I just wanted to stay with Wings.”
“You were seventeen. You didn’t know what you wanted.”
“And you were twenty-five!” I hiss, thumping my anger against the bar. The bartender glances at us, but one look from Pitt and he retreats without a word. “You were a grown-ass man, Ark! You should have seen what was right in front of your face!”
His mouth contorts, regret carving harsh lines at its edges. “I saw. I fucking knew.”
“Really?” I want to blister him with my fury, but my voice comes out small with betrayal. “Then why didn’t you come and get me?”
“Jesus.” He cups his mouth, his teeth grinding behind his hand. “There was talk amongst Booker’s goons. A couple of them had a grudge against your dad, and they said if you stayed, it was free use. Any of them could have you, any time they liked.”
Wings stiffens behind me, a growl building in his throat. Free use is one of those dark myths about club life, from a time when alphas kept harems of omegas chained up in their basements. No agency, No bonds. Just a buffet of broken omegas thatdepraved alphas used and discarded at will. “Bullshit. No one is free use anymore.”
Pitt leans forward on the bar, his eyes glittering dangerously. “That’s what I told them when I kicked their teeth down their fucking throats.”
I shake my head, trying not to think of names or remember faces. How long was I going blissfully about my life, thinking the club had my back, when I was really being stalked by a pack of wolves?
“It was the only way I could protect you,” Ark says softly, his hand finally finding mine. He clutches it, his callouses thicker, his grip harder, but I recognize every swirl of ink on his fingers. I used to stare at them so often, I could picture their exact shape in my sleep. He turns my hand over now, pressing his palm against mine. I don’t know if it’s an apology or a promise, but when he pulls back, my hand convulses, like I’m trying to catch air. “We let you down, Abbie. The whole club, but me most of all.”
It’s a hard confession to accept. I’ve said the same words in my head a hundred times, screaming them into the void. But now I’m standing face-to-face with him, all I feel is confused. If he knew I was in danger, why didn’t he tell my mom or my brother? Why did his plan to save me end up thrusting me from the frying pan into the fire?
“Not everyone.” I lean away from him, back into the shelter of Wings’ arms. “We’re together, same as always, and I don’t give a goddamn if that breaks the Flyers’ precious rules.”
Chapter Six: PITT
Abbie glares at Ark like he just threatened to carve her heart out right there on the bar.
“It won’t,” he says shortly, and I can feel the tension rolling off him as she steps back out of his reach. “Those rules are gone. Everyone is safe in the club. Everyone has a choice.”
Distrust is written all over her face, and who can blame her? The Iron Flyers were supposed to be her family, not a bunch of jackals fighting over her like she was a piece of meat. Maybe one day I can tell her how they begged and sobbed before I ended them, but right now my job is to make sure that Ark doesn’t screw up this chance to get her back.
“Are you really saying we can just walk in there?” Abbie demands, grabbing a napkin off the bar and dashing it over her tear-streaked face. “No claiming bites? No alpha at our backs?”
I stiffen at that question, a protest forming in my chest, but her gaze is rooted on Ark. From what he’s told me, this conversation is a long time coming, and I have to brace myself so I don’t step between them. Ark might be my friend and president, but I’m drawn to Abbie in a way that I can feel deep inmy bones.
Protect her, at all costs.
