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Her words hit me harder than any blow from the Serpents. Ava, who stood by me, who saw beyond the exterior and understood the man underneath, couldn’t bear to stay. Her note, simple and heartbreaking, tears through my triumph, leaving behind a gaping emptiness.
The room, empty of her, seems to close in on me. Her absence is louder, more devastating than the violent battle we just won.
I’ve won a war only to lose a piece of myself. The hope for a better future, for a life with Ava by my side, feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
In the end, it’s a bittersweet victory, a triumph overshadowed by a profound loss. The joy of the win is tainted by the bitter aftertaste of Ava’s departure. As I stand alone in her empty room, the cold truth settles in. I won the battle but lost Ava. I must face the consequences of my actions. The aftermath awaits.
As the emptiness of the room sinks in, a silent confrontation begins within me. Ava’s absence is a jarring contrast to the triumph that still echoes in my veins, a stark reminder of what my victory cost.
Her absence from the room, from the club, from my life, leaves a hollow void that no victory, no sense of vengeance or justice could fill. I had held onto the hope of a future with her, a future where she would be my pillar of strength, my sanctuary in this world of chaos. Now, that dream feels as distant as a waning star. The sight of her empty room brings the harsh reality crashing down: Ava’s gone, and it’s because of my choices.
My hands clench, crumpling the goodbye note. I feel a surge of anger, frustration, but beneath all that, a deep-rooted fear. Fear of losing Ava for good, fear of facing the consequences of my actions. But then, the anger fades, leaving behind a crushing weight of sorrow and regret.
I’ve spent my life living on the edge, always ready for a fight, for the next challenge. But this? This is a battle I never prepared for, a loss I never anticipated. Ava’s departure is a blow that shakes me to my core.
Her absence is a bitter pill, a necessary consequence of the path I’ve chosen. I’ve pushed her away with my relentless pursuit of a dangerous vendetta.
The celebration outside the room and the victorious cheers of my brothers all seem distant, like echoes from another life. Inside this empty room, it’s just me.
CHAPTER16
Ava
I step inside my apartment,a box of my belongings clutched tightly in my arms. The familiar scent of home and routine hits me as I close the door behind me, a stark contrast to the leather, oil, and smoke of the Reapers’ clubhouse. I thought that coming back here would be a release, a chance to reclaim my peace and sanity.
Setting the box down, I look around the apartment. Everything is as I left it—the comfy couch, the tidy bookshelf, the coffee table with the half-finished puzzle that Ace and I had been working on. Memories of laughter, arguments, and quiet evenings fill the room, comforting and painful at the same time. I remind myself that this was my sanctuary once, and it can be again. This is where I belonged, away from the reckless risks and violence.
In the following days, I dive into my routine with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. Work, grocery shopping, catching up on TV shows I’ve missed—a desperate attempt to find normalcy. I convince myself that this is liberation, that this is what peace feels like.
But despite my efforts, my mind is never still. Worry for Brick gnaws at me, relentless and unforgiving. I find myself reaching for my phone, yearning to call, to check in, to hear his voice. I resist, reminding myself of the reason I left. But the emptiness refuses to abate, instead settling deep within me, a constant reminder of what I left behind.
Brick’s face haunts my dreams. His laughter, his tenderness, his courage, his obstinacy—they echo through the silence of my apartment. The roar of his bike, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the strength of his arms around me, they all feel as if they are imprinted into my very soul.
And with every passing day, the distance between us feels more like a punishment than liberation. Instead of relief, I feel a misery I hadn’t anticipated. It’s an oppressive silence, a loneliness that engulfs me. The missing piece isn’t just Brick, but the entire Reapers family—their camaraderie, their resilience, their loyalty. I’ve never felt more alone.
I’d thought that the danger that came with Brick was the problem. But now, in the quiet safety of my old life, I realize that fear for his safety, the constant worry, and the emotional toll it takes are just as paralyzing. I might have left the club, but I’m far from leaving Brick behind. I realize, with a sinking heart, that I may have misjudged what true liberation means.
* * *
In search of some semblance of peace, I reach out to the one person I think might understand—Brick’s mom. We’d shared a heart-to-heart at the clubhouse once. There’s a wisdom about her, a warmth that feels comforting.
Dialing her number, I bite my lip nervously as the phone rings. When she picks up, her voice, surprised yet welcoming, soothes my anxiety a little. I pour out my fears, my doubts, my loneliness. She listens quietly, her silence providing the space I need to let it all out.
When I finally finish, she doesn’t immediately reply. The silence stretches out, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. But then she speaks. Her voice is soft, understanding, yet there’s a sadness in her tone that tugs at my heart.
“Ava,” she begins, her voice laced with a deep sigh. “I understand why you left. It’s a dangerous life. And you love my boy, so I know you worry. I worried every day for Brick’s dad, and I still do for Brick.”
There’s a pause, heavy with the weight of years of fear and loss.
“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “There were times I wished I’d walked away, saved myself the heartache. But if I had, I would’ve missed out on the love of my life. I wouldn’t have had Brick. And despite everything, despite all the danger and chaos, I wouldn’t trade those years with him for anything.”
Her confession leaves me speechless. I hadn’t expected this. I’d thought she’d reassure me, tell me I’d made the right choice, that I’d be better off. But instead, she’s opened a window into her heart, showing me the bittersweet nature of loving someone who lives on the edge.
The weight of her words settles over me, heavy and profound. It’s a perspective I hadn’t considered, the power of love despite the danger and chaos. It’s a notion that challenges my decision, and as we say our goodbyes, I’m left in the silence of my apartment, with nothing but the echo of Brick’s mom’s words for company.
I realize that her love for Brick’s dad wasn’t about the risk he took but about the man he was. Despite the fear, the danger, the heartache, her love had been stronger, more potent. She’d chosen love over safety, depth of feeling over peace of mind.
As I end the call, I stare blankly at the phone in my hand. Brick’s mom’s words ring in my ears, triggering a painful realization that threatens to consume me. I left to escape the danger, the chaos. But in doing so, have I also left behind a love that might be worth it all?
