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As soon as I shut the door and lock it, I sag against the wall, my breath tearing out of me. My anger is a ball of knives inside my stomach, and I don’t know how to calm it.
Skye bringing up my father the way she did unlocked something painful inside me, something I’ve tried to bury for years. Her words struck a nerve because I genuinely fear turning into that fucker.
I had to get out of that room before I did or said something I couldn’t take back. That cunt is enough to flip the darkness on. I felt myself losing control, so I did the cowardly thing.
I ran away.
I drag my fingers through my hair. This is exactly why I shouldn’t be near Skye or this baby. My father told me what I was when I was barely five years old, and he continued to feed me that narrative until I left him to die.
It’s so strange how long it’s been since I heard his voice, yet it still rings in my ears. I’ll never forget that rasp and the mad glare in his eyes as he burned me or choked me out.
The devil is in you…
He told me that so many times, I started to believe it, but he was wrong. The devil wasn’t in me until he put it there. Everything I am, everything I have become, was because of him. He created the monster I am. He fed the rage within me until it became an entity of its own.
Ragged breaths tear through me as I have the urge to put my fist through the wall. This situation is a fucking disaster, and there’s no getting around it. I’ve created a shit storm, and I don’t know how the hell to fix it.
Skye Richardson.
Of all the women I could have fucked that night, the universe put the daughter of a man my club is actively trying to kill in front of me. She was practically gifted to me on a silver fucking platter.
I sag against the door, scrubbing a hand over my face. I don’t know what my brothers are thinking. Do they assume I’m working with her? Do they think I’m in Richardson’s camp because I fucked his daughter?
The line I’m walking is so fine that for the first time since I joined the Sons, I feel genuine fear. I’m not scared of dying, though that is a possibility if they believe I’ve betrayed the patch.
What terrifies me most is losing my kutte. This piece of leather might mean nothing to Skye, or to outsiders, but it represents everything I’ve struggled to achieve.
Without my place in the Sons, who am I?
The club operates on trust. If that foundation is rocked, that’s a problem. The men have to believe I will have their backs, and their families’ backs too. Even the slightest hint of doubt will be a death sentence for my time here.
Maybe if I’d been here longer and had time to prove my loyalty to Howler…
But I ain’t earned that in Manchester yet.
I’m not even sure I would be in a better position if this had happened while I was in London.
There’s not a single thing I can think to say to fix this shit storm. I don’t want Skye locked in that room, not when she’s sick, but I’m also aware that her future is in the hands of the club too. If they decide she’s here to collect information, then I don’t know what the fuck will happen. As a rule, the club doesn’t hurt women, but I don’t know if that extends to those who are actively trying to harm us.
I don’t want to, but I need to man up here and face my brothers. I have to explain myself and try to fix this mess. I have to deal with the fallout of what we’ve done and try to do some damage control.
Pushing off the wall, I make my way back to the common room. As soon as I step inside, I’m again pinned by the weight of the entire club—brothers and old ladies. I force myself to cross the room, heading for Howler.
I don’t know what to expect, so I brace in case he decides to lash out. Ravage would have put me on the ground, but that’s not what Howler does.
“I’ve called a doctor.”
Not what I was expecting him to say, so I frown. “Thanks.”
His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t like having her here, but the fact is she is here and she’s clearly sufferin’.”
I catch sight of Pia standing with the other women. She gives me a small smile, and I wonder if she had anything to do with getting Skye help. Pia has a good heart, and she’s also been in a position like this, though when she was taken captive, she was abused by the club that took her. No one will hurt Skye—I won’t allow it.
“She needs food too.”
“She’ll get whatever she needs,” Howler assures me before he lifts his head, addressing the entire room. “Church, now.”
I don’t move. I’m not an officer, so I don’t get an invite to sit around the table. Neither does Hawk. As a former nomad, he hasn’t earned his place here either, so I’m surprised as fuck when Howler turns back to me. “You’re coming too.”
