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“Stray and I have been working on a new strategy, a way to move the club toward more legitimate activities,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. His eyebrows lift a bit higher on his forehead, clearly surprised, but he doesn’t interrupt. “We need to evaluate our current partnerships, figure out who’s on the up-and-up and who’s not.”
Ghost nods, understanding flashing in his eyes. He closes his laptop with a snap and stands up, dusting off his jeans. “I can help with that. You know I’ve got a knack for digging up dirt.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, relief washing over me. Ghost’s on board. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I need you on this.”
For the next few hours, Ghost and I pore over our list of partnerships. Ghost taps into his sources, his fingers a blur on his keyboard, while I fill him in on what Stray and I have already uncovered. We argue a bit, we disagree, but mostly, we find a rhythm, a partnership that I didn’t anticipate.
Turns out, more of our partnerships have darker undercurrents than I’d like. “Damn it,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Why can’t anything be simple?”
Ghost chuckles, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Because then life would be boring.”
Despite myself, I smile. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
By the time we wrap up, we’ve got a clearer idea of the mountain we’re about to climb. Ghost is surprisingly optimistic about it all. “We’ve got this, Brick,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Just you wait and see.”
CHAPTER18
Ava
My days flowinto one another like water, each one indistinguishable from the last. It’s been weeks since I left Brick and the Reapers, returning to my old life, my old self.
Alone.
Each morning, I wake to an empty bed, missing the warmth of Brick’s presence. I pull on my scrubs, head to the hospital, and lose myself in the busy hum of saving lives. It’s a routine that’s familiar, comforting in its predictability. Yet, in the silence between moments, I miss the chaos that Brick and his family brought into my life.
I come home to an empty apartment each night, no thunderous roar of bikes or the raucous laughter of the Reapers to greet me. My apartment feels more like a tomb than a home, echoes of a past life ricocheting off the walls. I push myself to fill the silence, cooking meals I’m too tired to eat, watching TV shows that I can’t seem to focus on.
I’d known life before Brick, before the Reapers, a life of routine, of order. I’d thought returning to that life would bring some sort of peace, some liberation from the constant anxiety that came with being tied to the Cascade Reapers. But all it’s brought me is a keen sense of emptiness, a dull monotony that gnaws at me from the inside out.
The absence of Brick and the Reapers weighs heavily on me, leaving an imprint that I can’t seem to erase. I look for them in the sounds of the city, in the roar of a distant bike, in the barked laughter of strangers on the street. They’re gone, but they’re everywhere. Their absence a constant reminder of the void they’ve left behind.
And as I lie in bed each night, the silence deafening, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. I miss them. God, how I miss them. The thrill, the fear, the love. The Cascade Reapers had given me more than just chaos and danger. They’d given me a family, a purpose, a love that I’d never anticipated. And in their absence, all I’m left with is a deep, aching solitude that I can’t seem to escape.
When I was with Brick, the world seemed to have less sharp edges. Despite the inherent danger of his lifestyle, there was an undeniable sense of community at the clubhouse, an unspoken understanding that everyone had each other’s backs. I felt a connection, a sense of belonging that I hadn’t felt since losing Ace.
Being there, being with Brick, made me feel closer to my brother. They had a bond, one forged through shared experiences, shared risks. Being a part of that, even tangentially, allowed me to feel as though I was still connected to Ace in some way. I saw parts of him in the camaraderie of the Reapers, in the raw honesty of their bonds, and in the deep loyalty they had for each other.
But now, alone in my apartment, Ace feels farther away than ever. I’m back to square one, back to feeling his absence with a starkness that is as sharp as it was when I first lost him. The grief that I had managed to dampen with the roar of bikes and the company of the Reapers has resurfaced, flooding me with a renewed sense of loss.
I miss Ace every day, but with Brick, I felt like I was honoring his memory in some strange way. Brick was his friend, his brother in arms, and loving Brick felt like keeping a piece of Ace alive. But now, the echoes of my brother seem to have faded, swallowed up by the hollow silence of my old life.
My heart aches for the connection I’ve lost, not just with Brick and the Reapers, but with the memory of my brother. I yearn for the noise, the chaos, the laughter. But all I have now is the deafening silence, the harsh reminder of what I’ve left behind.
It feels like I’m processing Ace’s loss all over again, from the beginning. And this time, I’m doing it alone. No Brick to hold me when I cry, no Reapers to distract me when the grief becomes too much. Just me, my memories, and the haunting solitude of my old life.
Grief has a way of turning minutes into hours, and nights into a torturous abyss of solitude. As the hours stretch on, I find myself dialing a familiar number—Carol’s.
“Carol, it’s Ava,” I begin, my voice echoing the loneliness seeping into my bones. There’s silence on the other end before her soothing voice responds, “I thought I might hear from you soon, hon.”
We arrange a meet-up at a quiet local café, a neutral ground away from the memories of the club, the roar of bikes, and the shadow of Brick’s presence. The idea of a friendly face, of conversation that doesn’t involve medical charts and patient care, is a beacon in my relentless monotony.
When I walk into the café, I’m taken aback to see Sadie sitting with Carol. Sadie, with her fiery red hair and a spirit to match—Slash’s wife. She looks up from her coffee, giving me a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s a familiarity in her gaze, an unspoken understanding that silently communicates, “I know.”
We settle into an easy rhythm, swapping stories about our lives before the Reapers, the adjustments we had to make, the conflicts, the challenges, and the small moments of joy amidst the chaos. Sadie shares her own experiences, her struggles in merging her life with Slash and the Reapers.
“I won’t sugarcoat it,” Sadie says, her gaze steady. “It’s hard—really fucking hard. But you know what’s harder? Being alone. Being without him.” She sips her coffee, her eyes far away, probably reliving her journey. “It’s a hard road, Ava, but it’s not a lonely one. We have each other.”
Her honesty is refreshing, a stark contrast to the flippant way she usually carries herself around the club. I see a different side of her today, a side that acknowledges the pain and struggles that come with loving a Reaper. It’s comforting, in a strange way, to know that I’m not alone in my experiences, that my worries and fears are shared.
