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“Sure, there were the good times,” she continues, her gaze unfocused as she revisits her memories, “we were one big family, enjoying the thrill of living life on our own terms. We’d have these huge parties that would last all night. But it wasn’t all fun and games. There were tensions, high-stakes decisions to be made, danger lurking in the shadows. Each club meeting was laced with a sense of underlying anxiety, every decision seeming like life or death.”
Her eyes meet mine, a somber understanding in her gaze. “Brick was raised amidst all this. He saw the love, the unity, but also the danger and sacrifices. It made him who he is, Ava. Loyal to a fault, always ready to protect his own.”
The silence that follows is heavy with the weight of her words, her experiences molding my perception of the club, of Brick, and the life I am getting entwined with.
Listening to Carol’s stories is like being granted a firsthand look into a past that’s shaped the present. It’s a world I’m still trying to adjust to, one that’s foreign yet somehow familiar. Her tales also shed light on Brick’s upbringing, helping me understand his fierce loyalty to the club, his determination to protect his loved ones, and his innate strength.
There’s a quiet strength about Carol that’s both humbling and inspiring. Living in the shadow of the club, enduring its chaos, losing her husband to its perilous lifestyle, and raising Brick amidst it all have made her the resilient woman she is today. I find myself hoping I can muster even a fraction of her courage and determination as I navigate my place in this volatile world.
Her revelations draw me further into the realm of the Cascade Reapers. Despite the danger and the uncertainty, there’s a sense of community, of family, that I find alluring. The connections I’m building here, Brick and now Carol, are anchors in the tumultuous sea that the club’s world represents. And I am keenly aware that these bonds will significantly influence the choices I make in the coming days.
Carol takes a deep breath, her gaze level as she regards me intently. “Ava,” she starts, a note of seriousness creeping into her tone, “I want you to understand something. This life... it’s not for everyone. It’s full of uncertainty, full of danger. You need to prioritize your safety, your peace.”
The intensity of her gaze is almost unsettling. This isn’t a casual conversation anymore; this is a warning. A warning that pierces through my denial, making me face the harsh reality of the life that I’m gradually becoming a part of. I swallow hard, taken aback by her words, her brutal honesty.
“I’m not saying you should leave,” she continues softly, her gaze softening, “but I want you to make this decision with your eyes wide open. Think about it, about what you really want, about what you’re ready to deal with. Because the club will always be a part of Brick. If you choose to be with him, it will be a part of you, too.”
Her words leave me with a flurry of thoughts, spinning in my head. I’ve been so caught up in the exhilaration of my relationship with Brick, the thrill of this new world, that I hadn’t really considered the long-term implications. The danger, the constant uncertainty, the sacrifices. Can I live with that? Can I deal with the constant threat hanging over our heads?
A part of me knows that leaving Brick isn’t an option I can stomach. The mere thought sends a wave of fear and sadness washing over me. But can I live this life, the club life, with its danger and uncertainty?
My mind whirls with questions, my heart heavy with the weight of this impending decision. The tranquility of the room is in stark contrast with the storm of thoughts brewing inside me. As the night settles in, I find myself staring into the darkness, wondering what the hell I’m going to do.
CHAPTER11
Brick
Most of mytime these days, when not dealing with the Serpents shitstorm or spending time with Ava, I spend with Stray. His downward spiral’s been hard to watch, harder still to try and pull him out of it. He’s my brother, not by blood but by something stronger—by loyalty, by shared history, by the Reapers’ bond. It’s my responsibility to keep him from diving too deep into the abyss of guilt that’s threatening to swallow him whole.
Days melt into nights, spent in the dim light of Stray’s small room at the clubhouse, where the smell of stale beer and despair lingers. The silence between us is heavy, weighed down by memories of Ace and the collective guilt we both shoulder. We’re two men lost in the aftermath of a tragic mistake, searching for a way to forgive ourselves.
One day, Stray breaks his self-imposed silence with a revelation. He’s found something—evidence, he says—that Ace’s death might not have been on us. “It’s them, Brick,” he mutters, staring at some pictures spread out on his bed. “The Serpents... they set him up.”
His words hit me like a sucker punch. Not our fault. Not our cross to bear. A torrent of relief washes over me, followed by a surge of anger. The Serpents. Of course. Yet even in my rage, I can’t ignore the release of a burden I’d been shouldering for far too long.
This newfound information lights a spark in both of us. It’s a way out of the guilt that’s been eating at us, a path toward redemption. More than that, it’s a rallying cry, a reminder that we still have a war to fight, a club to protect.
The revelation doesn’t change the fact that Ace is gone, that his laughter will never again echo through the clubhouse, that we lost a brother. But it does change the narrative of our guilt, shifts the blame where it rightfully belongs. It allows us to take a breath—maybe the first breath since he’s been gone.
The Serpents need to pay for what they’ve done. For Ace, and for us.
* * *
Days bleed into each other, defined less by the rising and setting of the sun, but by the moments I spend with Ava. Every shared glance, every touch, every word spoken and unspoken, pulls me deeper into the whirlpool of emotions I’ve for her. I want to maintain my distance, keep my heart guarded like I’ve done all these years. But Ava... she’s different. She makes the impossible seem possible, the impractical feel like the only right thing to do.
We’re two people drawn together by circumstances, yet something else has taken root between us—something deeper, stronger. It’s the shared understanding of loss, the mutual comfort in silence, the unsaid words hanging in the air when our eyes meet. It’s the fear and the courage, the hope and despair, all tangled up in a chaotic dance that somehow makes sense only to us.
As Ava learns more about me, she uncovers layers of my past, my experiences, my pain. I tell her about my father, a man as fierce as he was loving, a Reaper through and through. I tell her about my mother, who watched her world crumble yet never let it break her spirit. I share my own journey within the club, my initiation, my first taste of the freedom and the burden it brings.
Her understanding gaze tells me she’s seeing beyond the tough exterior, the biker, the enforcer, into the man beneath it all—a man shaped by loyalty, responsibility, and a burning desire to protect those he cares about. She’s getting to know the real me, the one few have had the chance to meet.
My past isn’t pretty. It’s a mosaic of highs and lows, joys and losses, victories and defeats. But it’s what made me the man I am today. The man who rides a Harley like an extension of himself, who would go to hell and back for his brothers, who fights with all he has for what he believes in.
Being part of the Reapers isn’t just about the thrill of the ride, the brotherhood, the sense of belonging. It’s about standing for something, bearing the weight of responsibility, of loyalty. It’s about protecting your own, no matter the cost. It’s a life that’s molded me, hardened me, yet also taught me what it means to love and be loved.
And now, Ava is becoming a part of that life. With every passing day, she’s not just in my space, but in my heart, making it harder for me to imagine a life without her in it. This isn’t just a fling, a temporary distraction. It’s something real, something profound. And I’m terrified of how right it feels.
* * *
