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Nearly to Wesley’s back gate, the darkness crowded me as I walked until I froze, hearing my name.
“Killian.”
I stared at the man who had been more like a father to me than Jefferson Quinn ever had. The same man who had chosen someone else to lead his club, someone who faked his own death…
“Simon.”
Hurt didn’t even begin to cover how I felt toward my mentor, my pseudo father. He had trained me for this role. He’d had me under his wing since I was ten years old, and then just like that, he’d replaced me. Without warning, without a conversation first, without any explanation as to why I wasn’t enough for the role. The other members all fell into place, accepting that me, the vice president, wasn’t asked to take over.
No one questioned it. Or if they did, I wasn’t aware of it.
Simon was still sick, and while he’d faked his death, he was still on the brink of it. He walked closer; his leather cut seemingly heavy on his shoulders as he bowed his head. His dark hair was tied back, his white shirt the only color I could make out against the midnight air.
“We need to talk.” He was right in front of me now, flicking a quick glance to the gate a few feet off, then behind me to the kitchen door that had a private entrance.
Anger and hurt warred in my chest, making my jaw ache with how hard I was clenching my teeth. “About what exactly? You choosing Wes over me and embarrassing me in front of the entire club?” Tapering my eyes at him, even in the dark, I stepped closer.
“Or how about we talk about you making me bury you, grieve you…What could you possibly need to say to me?”
Simon’s face didn’t slip into anything other than the same unreadable expression he always held as the leader I knew and grew up with. Not the slightest emotion flitted across his features, and for once, I wished they would. My own father had failed me; I never expected Simon to follow suit.
The wound was so deep, tears burned my eyes. I dipped my face to ensure they’d stay in place. Weakness was the last thing I wanted to show him.
I wasn’t sure what else to say, especially with the tight knot forming in my throat.
He pulled me away from the fence back toward the club. “You need to see something. For the sake of the club, and the longevity of our family, you need to know what’s coming next.”
Simon moved and expected me to move with him. The urgency to discover what exactly he was hiding, or talking about, sat right there at the forefront of my mind, just like club matters always did with him. I never wanted to miss a ride, never wanted to skip a meeting. The club was my life, and he was the person who made it that way.
Glancing back once toward the fence, I let the urge to run to Laura go. Just for one night, I’d let her sleep, and tomorrow, I’d go to her.
I should have realized it then…that regret is just honey-soaked poison.
We consume our choices so easily; they go down with a smile. Good intentions. Only to destroy us with a ticking clock over our heads.
Simon sat me down in his office. The walls were so familiar, but after thinking I’d lost him, it was messing with my mind to see him back in his chair.
“You know it was supposed to be you.” Simon started.
I began shaking my head when he spoke again.
“I knew Wes would bring Callie back. I knew about his house, and his plans…I knew he was planning to leave. Call it a dying man’s wish to have his wrongs corrected but I owed it to both of them to fix what I had a hand in breaking.”
My mouth firmed into a tight line. I had nothing to say to that because it didn’t change anything.
Simon leaned over his desk, catching my gaze.
“I saw you break, Killian. When you were ten. Just a cub abandoned by his parents, and raised by his pack. I saw you reshape, reform. You were always meant to take this club.”
Finally lifting my head, I tilted it back. “Why?”
Because spouting off some bullshit about my childhood trauma wasn’t enough for me.
Simon’s eyes sparked as he smiled.
“Because you’re without weakness, son. Wesley’s was always Callie. He’d do anything for her. You’d do anything for the club. The Stone Riders need you. I am dying, and now that Wes has Callie. You’re up. I need to know if you’re committed to securing the club and protecting it from what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?” I shifted my feet underneath the desk.
