Page 99 of Priest

“I didn’t grow up learnin’ how to be a kid,” I say finally. My voice comes out rougher than I meant it to. “I learned how to stay alive.”

She doesn’t interrupt.

“My old man,” I continue, eyes on her feet, “he’s president of Dead Man’s Hand. Joker.” The name tastes bitter, sour enough to burn the back of my throat. “He didn’t want sons. He wanted proof. Extensions of himself. Soldiers to do his bidding.”

I pause. Swallow.

“He picked women on purpose. Ones no one would miss. Kept ’em around just long enough to raise the kids to school age.” My jaw tightens. “Then he made sure the lesson stuck.”

Blue shifts slightly, but she stays with me.

“My mom was… soft,” I say, and the word feels too fragile for my mouth. “She didn’t belong there. She loved me though, despite what the club tried to take from her.” My breath catches, just a hair. “When I was old enough to remember her, he killed her in front of me.”

I don’t look at Blue when I say it. I can’t. My focus stays on my hands and the reality of her skin under my palms.

“He wanted me to learn women were disposable. Something to use, then throw away. Love was weakness. Love was nothing.” A short huff of air leaves me, empty of humor. “Guess he thought it’d make me more like him. Wanted it to make me more like him.”

Blue’s hand finds my forearm. She doesn’t grip. She just stays there.

“There wasn’t any childhood after that,” I go on. “Just work. Tests. Violence. Sex in the clubhouse before I knew what it was. Drugs. Blood.” I lift my eyes for a second, then drop them again. “You learned real fast how to read a room or a dark corner. How to disappear.”

I finally glance up at her.

“I learned control early,” I admit. “Because losin’ it got people hurt.”

Her eyes hold mine. They don’t flinch.

That almost hurts more than if they had.

“My brother reacted different,” I say. “Ace leaned into it. Became what Joker wanted. I threatened him.” A beat passes, hard and old. “Not because I was violent. Because I wasn’t. I wasn’t fitting into the mold they wanted me carved from.”

My hands slow. I force them to keep moving.

“There was a man,” I say. “Cain. He saw me. Tried to teach me how to be better instead of harder.” My throat tightens. “Joker realized what he was doin’. Joker killed him too. Made sure I understood why.”

My hands keep moving when I say her name again. That’s deliberate. If I freeze, I’ll lock up.

“There’s somethin’ else you need to know,” I say. “About Sadie.”

Blue exhales softly, like she’s grounding herself so I don’t have to.

“She was Cain’s daughter,” I start. “That mattered. Still does.” I breathe out slowly. “After Cain was killed, she didn’t have anyone lookin’ out for her. The clubhouse chews girls up, especially ones without protection. We were already datin’ when Joker killed her dad. The club thought it was club business. Sadie thought it was club business.”

My jaw tightens.

“I thought I could protect her. Thought maybe if I loved her hard enough, I could keep her from becomin’ another casualty.” I let the honesty sit there between us. “I was wrong.”

My thumb moves over the curve of Blue’s ankle once before I keep going.

“My brother, Ace, was already bein’ groomed by Joker. Power mattered to him more than people ever did.” A beat passes. “He wanted everything. Including what was mine.”

The memory settles heavy.

“The night he was patched in as VP, the clubhouse was celebratin’. Chaos everywhere. I was walkin’ down the officer hallway toward Joker’s office when I passed Ace’s door.” I shake my head once. “It was open.”

I stop there for a second, letting the truth land clean.

“Sadie didn’t see me,” I say quietly. “She never knew I was there. Not then.”