I exhale and press my fingers into his as our foreheads come together. I realize this is an incredibly intimate position to be in and, to be quite honest, I’m surprised none of the men are stepping in to interrupt it. I close my eyes, too, so that I don’t have to look at any of them.
“You changed me, too,” I tell him, because it’s the truth. Pretty sure the day I walked into that cabin transformed us both in unimaginable ways. I was willing to die to prove a point, to uphold my own version of right and wrong.
“You’ve also given me something that my father’s never had: a hard line.” I can somehow sense that he’s opened his eyes, so I open mine, too, and we stare at each other. “You are my hard line, something that can never be crossed. I have a benchmark for morality, Gidge. You are my benchmark, and I will never hurt you.”
I squeeze his hands with my own, and I believe every word that’s coming out of his mouth—whether I should or not.
Because if I’m Grey’s hard line, then he’s mine, too.
I have to have it, because if I don’t, I’ll end up just like my father. It isn’t just our hair color or our eyes that we share, it’s that ruthless need for power and control. “We’ve always been so alike, you know?” Those weren’t just empty words that Cat spoke to me; it was an admission.
I am Cat’s prodigy in every way that matters.
“When I said that I had your back before, I meant it,” I tell him, swallowing hard. “I was prepared to marry you and rule, Grey. I had accepted that.”
“I know,” he chokes out, and I can see that he, at least, still believes that he loves me. I’m breaking his fucking heart here, and even if he might not believe it, it hurts me as much as it hurts him.
But we can’t have everything we want, not even close. The world only gives up happiness in bits and pieces. Bittersweet is the best we can ask for. A little dark chocolate with our sugar.
“If we don’t figure this out, our families will slaughter each other,” I whisper, but he’s already nodding and pulling back.
“I know.”
I allow Grey to drop his hands, mine still wrapped around them. A creak at the top of the stairs draws both of our attention.
It’s Reba.
“What’s going on down here?” she asks, Fem posed behind her like a fluffy black and white bodyguard. She starts down the steps, her right hand squeaking against the shiny wood of the banister. Knowing Crown the way I do, I bet he polishes it regularly.
“Grey is leaving,” I tell her, and then quickly add, “but you can’t go with him just yet. He has to leave in … an unconventional sort of way.”
Reba’s already got tears in her green eyes, as if she’s aware that this could be the last time we ever see Grey Wolfe.
Because even if he makes it to the perimeter of the compound, even if he gets out and finds his way back to the mafia, then what?
They came for him once, sure. Because what else was that roadblock other than the mafia’s attempt to rescue their heir? But I’ve met Alvise and Giulia Wolfe, and I can tell you this right now: between Grey and me, I am the luckier of the two.
Cat loves me in his own way, enough to choose me over his son.
Grey’s parents don’t feel about him the same way mine do about me.
They might kill him, even if the club doesn’t.
Reba throws her arms around Grey’s neck, and I’m forced to release his hands. I end up stepping back and bumping into Crown. He puts a possessive hand on my shoulder and squeezes as Reba and Grey hug each other tight, holding on for so long that Grainger actually makes a sound of annoyance, and they pull apart.
“Don’t cry for me, little nun,” Grey says, and she gives a weepy laugh.
“Don’t you dare die out there,” she warns him, and he smiles. It’s a non-answer if I’ve ever seen one. Grey reaches down to pick up the bolt cutters and turns back to me and my men.
“How do I get out of here without being seen? There must be eyes all over this place,” he says, and Beast nods, stepping forward.
“Come with me. I’ll get you into the woods. From there, take as straight a path as you can until you reach the chain-link fence. Cut the smallest hole that you can and crawl though. Make sure you take the fucking bolt cutters with you.” Beast gives him a long, hard look. “Once you get out, I’d stick to the woods for a while. Just because you’re off the compound doesn’t mean you’re safe.”
“Understood,” Grey says, looking down at the tool in his hand before he looks back up at me. “I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”
I nod, but I can’t speak. My throat is far too tight with emotion as I watch Grey follow Beast through the living room and down the hall. There’s a back door to the farmhouse that’s almost directly across from the door to Beast’s bedroom.
My husband slips out first and then, after a moment, he motions for Grey to follow him.
“God, please let him be okay,” Reba murmurs, clasping her hands together in prayer and lowering her chin, eyes closed. “Please get him home safely.”
Now … I don’t know if I believe in God, but I sure as hell believe in the devil; I’ve seen him.
Stay safe, Grey, I think, twisting my hands together in the fabric of my shirt.
I wait in silent anticipation for Beast to return.
When he does, I breathe a small sigh of relief. Getting Grey out of here without being seen by any of my father’s spies, that’s not an easy task.
“He’s on his own now,” Beast tells me as he pauses in front of me. “Whatever happens next is up to him.”
“Thank you,” I say, the words a bit breathless. I glance over at the other three men. “All of you.”
Grainger looks furious, Crown frustrated, Sin annoyed. As always, Beast is stoic and silent.
“I’m asking a lot,” I start as Grainger raises a brow.
“You sure as hell are,” he says, shaking his head. “Are you fucking positive that you’re not in love with that fucker?” He grits his teeth as he asks the question, but it’s a fair one. Especially after what he just saw.
“I’m positive,” I say, looking up at my husband’s face. “I love Grey, but I’m not in love with him; there’s a difference.” Reba stands silently behind me, listening in on the conversation with a conflicted expression on her face. Second-guessing her decision to become a nun? Or is what I’m saying making it an even easier choice?
“It’s a lot,” Beast agrees finally, working his jaw as he looks down at me, but then he reaches up and cups the side of my face in a huge, warm hand. “But you’re worth it.” He slides his thumb over my lips and then moves around me to head toward the kitchen.
The other three watch me in silence, but nobody argues with that.
“Get some sleep,” Crown tells me finally, pushing up off the wall. “You’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
“I’ll tag along,” Sin suggests, receiving a harsh look from his VP. “What? I can handle office work at the very least.”
“You,” Crown says, pointing at Grainger. “Get your ass back in bed.”
“I’ll go if Gidge goes with,” he offers up, but I’m already shaking my head.
“You can’t be trusted,” I tell him, giving him a look that clearly says I’m thinking of the night before last. He meets my eyes, frowning hard. “Take it easy, so that when the call comes in, we can tackle this together.”
“You think you’re leaving this compound before the war is over? Fat chance. I’m not taking a pregnant woman into the field.”
I stare at Grainger as Sin makes a low, dark laugh and shakes his head, reaching out to slap a hand over his brother’s shoulder.
“Dude, have you met Gidget? You should feel lucky that she even wants to continue with this pregnancy. Don’t push it.” Sin offers me up a wink and moves up the stairs two at a time just to prove that he isn’t an invalid that needs coddling.
Cade, on the other hand …
“You can’t keep me like a doll on a shelf
, Cade. If you try that, I will leave.” I look him dead in the face so that he can understand how serious I am about this. “Grey offered me something I never thought I’d get: a chance at being a fair and equal partner. I could’ve been the queen of the mafia with him by my side.”
Grainger clenches his jaw, like he’s about to launch into a frustrated tirade, but I cut him off by stepping forward and putting my arms around his neck.
“I chose to be here: don’t make me regret that.”
“You’re pregnant, Gidge,” he reiterates, as if that should be reason enough for me to sit on my ass and do nothing.
“So what?” I retort, feeling my skin get hot and tight and achy with annoyance. “I’m not going to waddle around with my Magnum at like, eight months along or some shit. But right now? I’m fine, Cade.”
“Fine—until you get shot. Until you get the shit kicked out of you. Until you’re dead,” he hisses, reaching down to push my arms away. He storms off down the hall toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Whether he left to regroup and get his thoughts together or because he’s given up, I’m not sure.
I look back at Crown.
He’s frowning, too, but I think he’s starting to figure this out.
They are not in charge: I am.
I love the four of them so much that when I think too hard about it, it scares the shit out of me. Like I said, I loved like this once before. I loved my sisters more than my own life, and I lost them.
But even though I care for these men, I know that I have to love myself just as much. I know what will and will not make me happy.
Sitting around with the other club wives is not a future that I want; I swore to myself that I would never let myself become my mother, a brute’s bride and nothing more.
“Do you want to argue with me, too?” I ask, but Crown just gives a slow, easy shake of his head.
“You know how I feel about this.” He reaches out to touch the side of my face as I wet my lips. “If I could, I’d keep you locked up in here and safe from the world. But that would only make me happy.” Crown drops his hand and offers up a bit of a smirk. “Besides, if this baby isn’t biologically mine, we’ll be having another one in the future. Which means …” He steps close to me again, but he doesn’t touch me this time. There’s a pain in that, each of us holding back. It creates this tension that I just know will be all the more satisfying later when it snaps, and we give into our wants and needs. “That once we’re ready for that, I’ll get you all to myself. Bareback fucking with me and me alone. However long it takes to get you pregnant, you’ll be in my bed, satisfying your end of the deal.”
I go to slam my palm into his chest, but he snatches my wrist before I can make contact, twisting my arm and turning me around so that he can pull my back to his front.
“Beast might be the hand-to-hand combat expert, but I’m not bad either.” Crown licks the side of my neck and makes me squirm. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting years to do this. Touch you freely. Hold you whenever I wanted.” Crown shudders and squeezes me even more tightly against him.
“I know you didn’t get everything you were hoping for—” I start, but he just laughs, his breath stirring my hair. I look over to see that Reba’s disappeared. Probably mourning Grey. I should go find her, see if she needs to talk things out before I climb into bed.
“I’ve been thinking about it anyway,” Crown says, his voice taking on a hint of wretchedness. “This life is hard. It’s dangerous. I figure if one of us dies, at least you won’t be alone.” And with that beautiful gem, he releases me suddenly and turns that VP look on me. “Go to bed,” he repeats. “It’s getting late and your ass is going to be up at the crack of dawn.”
He heads outside before I can stop him, and I curse up a bit of a storm as I ascend the stairs, pausing when I find Reba waiting for me at the top.
“I want to help,” she declares, standing in front of me and taking in a deep breath, her hands curled into fists at her sides. “This is my calling: to help women and children.”
I can’t help it. Even though the moment is a bit dark—I really hope this isn’t the last time I ever see Grey—I smile at her and let out a bit of a laugh.
“You want to see the club in action, huh?” I ask, and then shrug. “Okay then, let’s do it.”
Reba stops me by putting a hand on my arm.
“You’re … going to have the baby?” she asks, and I realize that I haven’t had a chance to sit down and talk this over with her yet. The decision came on me pretty suddenly.
I guess realizing that most of my family was dead made me want to try something new.
I know exactly how to be a good parent: be the antonym of Cat and Nellie. That’s how.
“Yeah, why not?” I say nonchalantly, but this is anything but a nonchalant decision.
I didn’t decide this because I have a problem with abortion (I don’t) or because I feel guilty; I didn’t decide this because it’s obviously what all four men want. I decided this because it’s something that I want to do.
Reba squeals and throws her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek and making me laugh.
“Oh, I’m so excited,” she says, and then pauses, pulling back slightly to give me a look. “You are going to get your GED, right?”
I give her a look right back.
“Are you?” I query. Reba nods, but her stern expression doesn’t fade. “I am. I will. I promise.” I make an X over my chest, crossing my heart and hoping to … well, not to die. Been there, done that. I’m clearly not ready to die yet. Surprised myself with that one, but there it is.
Reba releases me.
“Good,” she says, smoothing her palms down the pretty white blouse with the daisies on it that I have distinct memories of my eldest sister wearing. It makes me happy to see the garment given new life.
I’ve got this, Queenie, I think, offering Reba another smile before slipping into Crown’s room to change into pj’s.
My sister gave her life to protect me.
In return, I’ve decided that I’m going to live a damn good one.
And I will spill as much blood as I need to in order to make sure that happens.
Grainger was right.
He seems to be right a lot of the time which is annoying as fuck.
When I get back to the house the following afternoon, I see a horde of bikes waiting out front and my heart leaps in my throat. I climb off of Sin’s bike as he curses and follows after me.
“Careful, Gidge,” he warns me, grabbing my wrist before I can start up the front steps. I glance back at him and see that there’s a very real fear in his eyes. He’s debating whether or not to let me go inside. Debating whether or not to run.
But if Cat didn’t shoot me when he had the chance, he isn’t going to do so now—not without reason.
“We have nothing to hide,” I tell Sin, and he exhales sharply.
We need to show Cat that we’re not against the club, not by any means.
I’ve been wondering lately why I feel so strongly about that, why I feel this almost blinding desperation to make things right. It’s not for myself, not necessarily. Well, okay, maybe it is a little about me. Mostly, it’s because my men deserve to have that respect back from Cat.
This is their life, their club.
I want to restore what they willingly gave up in order to save me.
“If things go south, you fucking run and you take my bike.” Sin points at it, giving me a dark look that says I better damn well obey. I agreed to it, to defer them as if I were a prospect or something.
Heaving a sigh, I nod, and Sin takes that reluctant acquiescence as good enough, moving ahead of me to lead the way into the house.
We open the door to see the kitchen and sitting room being torn apart.
Crown stands in the center of the sitting room, arms crossed over his chest, face set in a resolute frown. Cat waits nearby, hands locked together in front of him like a bodyguard or something.
He turns his rust-red eyes my way as I move up beside him, planting my hands on my hips.
“What the fuck are you doing to my house?” I demand, and Cat raises both brows in my direction.
“Far as I’m concerned, this is the vice president’s house,” he tells me, but I refuse to stand down, even when some of the men in the room with us snicker. But I won’t be made a fool of. And I won’t allow my men to be made fools of either.
“Yes, well, it’s okay to be mistaken sometimes. The important part is that you can admit when you’re wrong.”
“Girl,” Cat says, gritting his teeth as he gives me a dark look. If I were still ‘just’ his daughter and not Beast’s wife, I have a feeling that he’d have popped me in the mouth for that one. “Don’t make me call your husband to get you under control.”
I laugh at that.
The room goes mostly silent.
I can feel Sin stiffen up behind me. He puts a hand on my shoulder, but I ignore him. I ignore Crown’s look of pleading, too. No amount of admonishment from my men will keep me quiet right now. I can’t allow Cat to hate me forever.
“This is my house,” I repeat, my voice ringing with authority. “I know you don’t give a shit who I’m fucking or what I’m doing on my own time. I feel the same about you.” I point at the mess that the Daybreakers have already made of the room. “You can search this house top to bottom if you want—every nook and cranny. Hell, open up the walls if you need to, but when you’re done, I want it all put back. That’s my right.”
My father’s face is synonymous with thunder, a quiet rumbling that precedes a lightning strike.
I am really testing him right now.
But I’m also not out of line and he knows it. As a club wife, my house is my own. I have every right to demand this sort of thing. It’s written into our culture: the household is the woman’s domain. I’m staking claim here.
“If you were Crown’s wife, I might consider it,” Cat says, sneering down at me. “Since you’re not, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight before my goodwill disappears.”
I stare my father down, unafraid even though I should be.
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