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“We’ll all be more careful.” Pausing, I hated the words I was about to say, but I felt like I owed it to her. “There’s always a chance that something could happen to me, to you, to any of the brothers. If this is too much…If you need to cut things off now, I understand.” She lifted her head, those blue eyes looking at me with fury.

“I’m not going anywhere, and don’t you dare do that again. I can make my own decisions, I don’t need you sacrificing yourself for a future you think might be better for me. Just know, if you get hurt, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Warning received,” I told her, pressing a kiss to her head. She tilted her head back, pushing up to kiss me on the mouth. The kiss was gentle and far too brief before she shifted further away, trying to remove any pressure on my body.

We fell asleep like that. It could have been hours or only a few minutes, but the next time my eyes opened, Bash was there. In the visitor’s chair, his head was tilted back, eyes closed as he pressed the bridge of his nose.

“That bad?” I asked, attempting to whisper so I didn’t wake Lilah. She had been there for almost a week and a half already. I could only imagine how long she had gone without sleeping or eating properly.

“Welcome back to the world of the living. Was starting to get worried.” Lilah had filled me in on everything I’d missed. After the crash, the doctors placed me in a medically induced coma to give my brain a chance to heal. Between the bike wreck and the fights, I’d taken one too many blows to the head, leaving me with a frontal lobe contusion and dangerous swelling. Even after they stopped the sedation, it had taken another two days before I finally woke up.

My leg hadn’t fared much better. I’d fractured my femur, and once the swelling in my brain had stabilized, the surgeons inserted a titanium rod to hold the bone together as it healed. The one upside, according to the doctor, was that I’d be starting physical therapy early. It was going to hurt like hell, but getting me on my feet sooner meant a better recovery. “Bull and Reaper are down the hall. Waiting for all of you to stabilize, then we’ll get you transferred back to the states. Atlas is back at the hotel. He’s in the best shape out of you four. He broke his arm when he crashed and had one hell of a concussion. He’s all stitched up and out of observation. Logan, Fee, Seph, Ma, and Dad are here. Got Dare and Wesson, too. Some of Whiskey’s guys are posted out front. They’re the ones who got you out.”

It was a dangerous spot to be in, split up and weakened. The fact that we needed to pull in brothers from other charters to secure our numbers was a humbling blow.

“Fuck. Tommy,” I said, closing my eyes.

Bash sighed, his hand going to the back of his neck. I had to concentrate on following him. Every time my head started to pound, I’d lose the thread of the conversation and have to piece it back together from whatever he said next.

“Yeah. His body is already back home. Spoke to his sister…She’s not our biggest fan right now, but she’s letting us help with the arrangements.”

“Crow?” I knew the answer, but I needed more. I need to know how we were going to get him back for this.

“He got away. The club is on it, though. Brick has his best trackers following them. We’re regrouping. Once Reaper is out, we’ll start planning. Right now, I have everyone on protective duty. Clubhouse is on full lockdown, and we’ve already started moving brothers around. What’s that saying? ‘Injuries ought to be done all at one time.’ No half measures. No second chances. Next time, we’re not going into battle…We’re ending the war.” For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond.

“Did you just quote Machiavelli to me?” Bash scowled. But there was a faint blush to his cheeks.

“I can read, you know.” I snorted, holding back a laugh at his sullen expression. He looked so much like his infant daughter after one of her tantrums that it was almost impossible to take him seriously.

“Alright, Prez. Whatever you say.” With Reaper injured, Bash would stay as acting President. It would be a strange dynamic, but I knew he was up to the task.

“Anyway, since you and Lilah are looking for a house, are you ready to let go of your room at the clubhouse? If I have my way, we’re gonna need all of them.”

“Yeah. It’s empty.” All the possessions I cared about had already been moved to Lilah’s. None of them mattered compared to her, though. At the end of the day, she was all I needed.

It took almost two full weeks before the doctors finally cleared us to travel. The trip home was long and miserable, even with medical transport. Atlas and I had healed enough to make the journey by car, but Bull and Reaper weren’t nearly as fortunate.

Bull was recovering well. The bullet had torn through his abdominal wall without damaging any internal organs. It had shredded enough muscle and soft tissue that every movement hurt, but the doctors were confident he’d made it past the highest risk of infection, and that was the biggest hurdle.

Reaper was another story. Seph and Cece rarely left his side. Between the pain, the medication, and everything he’d been through, he wasn’t an easy patient. His temper flared at the smallest things, and the outbursts were starting to wear on all of us. The surgeons were already talking about at least one more operation—possibly more.

Until then, he had to use the wheelchair. Riding wasn’t even a possibility for the moment. None of us talked about it, but we all felt the weight of it. I knew it had to be killing Reaper. For as long as I’d known him, there had never been a version of him that wasn’t on a bike. Still, I refused to give up hope that he’d heal. That one day, he’d ride beside us again. No matter what happened, he’d still be our president. Reaper built our club from the ground up. The motorcycles brought us together, but he was the reason we stayed. That wasn’t something an injury could take away.

There was no getting back to normal once we were back. It was one hit after another. Tommy’s funeral was one of the harder moments. The story of a truck taking a turn too wide and crashing into the group of us was easily believed. It didn’t make losing him any easier. He was just a kid, and we were supposed to protect him. It was just him and his sister, Sloane, growing up, their parents long gone from the picture.

Sloane allowed us to pay for the funeral and hold a small reception. An honorary vest and patch hung in the clubhouse, Tommy’s name embroidered on the back. The fact that he hadn’t even been with us long enough to get a road name was another gut punch. An account was opened for Sloane, and Tommy would have earned with the club was put into it every month. We took care of each other, alive or dead. She was his family, and we owed it to her.

As the memorial wound down, we finally held our first Church meeting. We’d had a few informal meetings at Reaper’s house before then, but this was the first time we were all back together in the same room. He sat in his wheelchair at the head of the table, Keys next to him, his hands moving a mile a minute.

“Alright. Let’s get the intros out of the way. We’ve got some new brothers. They’ll be with us for the foreseeable future.” A group of men in various shapes, sizes, ages, and ethnicities sat around the table. Starting with the man closest to Reaper, he nodded to the group.

“Wesson. From the SC charter.”

“Shocks.”

“Rome.”

It continued around the table, including Vin, Zane, Bax, Fury, Hawk, Nitro, Aces, Rook, and Moonpie.