Page 111 of Diary of a Biker Queen

My mother glared at her. “Carlos Guerra, of course. Her fiancé.”

Violet’s jaw was somewhere near the floor, her mouth hanging open wide. Couldn’t blame her. I hadn’t told anyone about Carlos’s recent pleas for me to marry him.

But clearly, my mother had heard from other sources and had already decided on my behalf that it was happening.

“I’m not marrying Carlos, Mother,” I practically hissed. “I don’t need this fucking wedding dress. Not now. Not ever. And I don’t want it anywhere near me.” I shoved it at her again. “Take it.”

She refused, her gaze narrowing on me. “Girl, do not be stupid! The fact Carlos even still wants you is a miracle in itself. Do not look a gift horse in the mouth! You can’t raise that baby alone. And you have no one left. That Dax boy left you. The bodyguard is in prison. And Luca Guerra…” She made the sign of the cross over her forehead and heart, like Luca’s dead, evil spirit might enter the room just by saying his name.

A little of my resolve crumbled at hearing it, the grief rushing in again, the reminder that I had no one except this baby, who deserved better than I could give alone.

Violet’s fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed fiercely. She glared at my mother. “She does have someone. She has me. Always.”

But Violet, though I loved her with every damn beat of my heart, was not the men I’d lost. She was not this baby’s father.

She wasn’t the family I’d thought I was building with the three of them. She had her own, one I didn’t get to belong to. One she was bringing a new baby home to just days after I would.

My mother stared at me like she knew exactly what I was thinking. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t budge.

My mother had always been able to read me like a book, and she knew she had me. But she pressed in harder, just to really drive the point home. “You are all alone and living at an MC clubhouse, Nyah. You have no job. No prospects, and a baby due any day now. I didn’t raise you to be this weak or this pathetic. I know your wedding is set to go ahead and Carlos Guerra is going to be waiting at the end of the aisle for you on Saturday. He will give you a good life. All the money you could ever need to raise that baby right, to give him the best shot. He’ll go to the best schools, he’ll have the protection he needs, and the name to make people stand up and take notice!”

“He’s not a Guerra, Mom!” I hissed. “Carlos knows that! This baby is not his grandson. Not his heir. He’s nothing to him!”

My mother pinched me so hard I knew it would bruise. She glared at me with all the hate in her eyes I’d always known she felt, even though she tried to hide it. “And Carlos doesn’t care! Don’t you see that, girl? He’s lost his only son—”

“He murdered his only son!”

My mother went on like I hadn’t just screamed in her face. “He wants to believe this baby is his. He wants a second chance to raise him right and to have the heir he’s always hoped for! It doesn’t matter if the baby is his blood or not. He’s not going to check, Nyah! This is exactly what we hoped for!”

This was not what I had hoped for. None of it.

But resignation crept in.

Because somewhere deep inside me, I knew she was right.

My mother saw me break. She saw the resolve leave my body and she doubled down on making sure it wouldn’t return. “Marry Carlos, Nyah. Legitimize his heir. It’s a win-win situation. Give him what he wants and take what you need in return.”

That was what it really came down to, wasn’t it? That I had no other options. That I could take this baby and run and live a life where I constantly looked over my shoulder. We’d have no money, nowhere to live, and no support. We’d have nothing but memories of the men I’d loved.

What good were those when your child was in danger?

Or I could marry Carlos Guerra and have everything I needed and a safe home for my baby to grow up in.

My mother and I both knew there was only one choice.

I took the wedding dress back and gave Violet the keys to the Slayers’ van.

I’d been reminded of my place.

It was no longer in a biker clubhouse.

34

NYAH

Dear Diary,

There was no one coming, and I knew what I needed to do.