by Trent Jordan
And sure enough, there was no blowback. Lane just nodded.
“She is kind of hot,” Lane said with a chuckle. “And there’s no better way to piss Lucius off than to make him think a Carter banged his daughter.”
Some laughter filled the room. Even I chuckled at that.
“I get what you mean,” I said. “So what now?”
“Now, we prepare for battle,” Lane said. “And Cole. I want you front and center with me in this.”
“What?” I said.
“You may have fucked up not telling us the truth, but you’re a Carter and an invaluable part of this club,” he said. “No, you’re an invaluable part of this family. You’re always a part of us. Going forward, that’s all I want us to be. A family.”
Wow. Times really have changed.
Apparently, I was not the only one to have undergone a deep shift after that dream.
This change felt different. Yes, we’d said before we’d put aside our differences, but that always meant our differences were lying in wait somewhere, just yearning for the opportunity to cause disruption. Here? No more. Now, we made it so we didn’t have differences, and if we did, they were superficial.
“I like the sound of that,” I said with a smile. “Very well, then.”
“Well, not tonight,” Lane said with a laugh. “You still have to recover. But Cole? Make no mistake. No one’s going home. It’s not safe out there for now. We’re bringing all of our women and friends here. We’re hunkering down. If Lucius is willing to attack you in daylight, he’s willing to do anything. We need to end this here.”
I nodded back.
“Then let’s make this the final battle between the Saints and the Reapers. Between the evil and good of these towns.”
Lilly
My father first tried knocking on the door.
Then he tried banging on the door.
Then he tried kicking the door.
But I was determined to make sure that no matter how far my father went, no matter what steps he took to try and reach me, I would tune him out. If he was going to take away my physical freedom, then I was going to do everything I could to retain the freedom of my mind I desperately had sought.
After the aggressive approach, he tried to reason with me. First, he offered me a meal of my favorite pizza in town if I just came out and spoke. Then he offered me a paid trip to New York City, where he promised not to speak to me for a week if I just came out now.
The only thing he said that made me even consider rising out of my bed was when he said that he would withhold the strike on Cole Carter if I just left my room.
But like everything else that he threw at me, I knew it was either an empty gesture or a lie. I’d heard him boast about ending the Reapers, of killing the man that I had cared enough for to almost lose my virginity to. He wasn’t going to call off an attack now—and if he did, he’d “fail” to do so, knowing full well that it was too late.
So, instead of giving him the time of day, instead of getting up off my bed, I just laid there on the ground, trying to think of what my next step would be.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything other than “wait.” My father would have security around this house at ten times what it was before; there was no way I could possibly escape without a half-dozen Saints tackling me to the ground. Even if a shootout with the Reapers took place, I didn’t see it happening. If I was in jail before, now I was in maximum security lockdown, with escape through physical means less likely than escape through some mystical, superhero means.
Then the pounding stopped. The footsteps became quieter. And I felt I could breathe easier.
Which I did for all of about two minutes before my father came back, unlocked the door with ease, and stepped in, shutting it behind him.
“You didn’t think I wouldn’t have a key to all the rooms in my own house, would you?” he said. “I have tried to give you all the privacy in here you seek, but I cannot let complete insubordination slide.”
“Insubordination?” I sneered. “What am I, your soldier?”
“You know full well what I mean.”
My father grabbed a chair from my desk, turned it around, and faced toward me. Like a bratty teenager…
That was it. I hadn’t really acted this way when I was with Cole or out in Ashton. With the independence of an adult came the temperament and behavior of an adult. With the “grounding” and punishment of a teenager came the attitude of a teenager. Perhaps I was capable of being a functioning member of society if I got that chance.
But for right now, I just rolled over on the side of the bed, refusing to face my father.
Except this time, he didn’t initiate conversation.
He just sat there. I could feel his eyes upon me, waiting for me to turn to him, and though I tried not to face him, it was like being told not to think of a white bear. The active act of trying not to do something made it inevitable that I would.
“What did you do with Cole?” I said.
But he took a page out of my book and did not answer me. Frustrated, I sat up, turned, and looked right at him.
With his silver, almost white beard, slicked-back hair, and soulless eyes, he looked every bit the part of worn-down warrior looking to make a point.
“I did nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You rattled off his address and said that you were going to kill him.”
“I will repeat,” he said. “I did nothing.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“OK, let me ask in a way that gets through that thick skull of yours,” I said. “What did the Fallen Saints do to Cole?”
My father folded his arms, that wicked smirk spreading over his face. Even I, his only offspring, felt a chill to my core whenever I saw that sadistic smile forming. It was impossible not to see those eyes and feel that a deeper evil lay behind them.
“Bombed the place,” he said. “Last I heard, they evacuated the complex. But it should be destroyed.”
I was afraid to ask the follow-up question. But I was afraid even more of what I would do or think if I did not ask the question.
“And did the club kill him?”
My father arched an eyebrow at me.
“I have no idea, to be totally frank with you,” he said. “The Carters have proved more elusive and more troubling than I had ever hoped. But I sure hope so, for both of our sakes.”
“Both of our sakes,” I repeated.
“Yes. My sake because I am tired of fighting them. Your sake, because if you want happiness and peace, you would do well to not have him as an option.”
He scooted the chair forward, close enough that he could lean his elbows on the bed. I scooted away, but I had run out of space. I could no longer retreat any further.
“Tell me, daughter,” he said. “What happened between you two?”
I turned away, biting my lip.
“There is no point in trying to hide the truth, dear,” he said. “I am going to try and kill him one way or another. Whether or not you slept with him makes no difference to me. I suppose the only real difference it will make will be if I kill him or his brother first. Tell me the truth.”
God, is this really happening? How did I wind up in the middle of this war like this?
“The truth?”
My father nodded. The smile had faded. He looked like he was about to interrogate an enemy soldier. I almost felt forced to tell the truth without actually being tortured, because my father’s presence was torture enough.
“I never slept with Cole, but I cared for him a great deal,” I said. “If we were still together in Ashton and I didn’t worry about you…”
“Then what?”
God, those words were so icy they could freeze a beach. The chill went deeper than my spine; it was almost like it froze my heartbeat for a couple of seconds.
“We’d still be building a relationship.”
My father groaned, pushing his chair back with his feet on my bedshe
ets. It was gross, but what was I going to do, argue with him?
“That hurts,” he said. “That really, really hurts.”
“Truth hurts, huh?”
“Did you love him?”
I could not say that.
“We were getting there.”
My father doubled over, as if having gotten stabbed in the gut, and put his head in his hands. He sighed a couple of times, looked up at me, and then buried his head again in his hands. I fought to feel nothing but contempt for him for all that he’d done, but the truth was, for as much as I sometimes hated him and wished he would leave me alone, my reaction was not so simple.
“I tried to raise you right and protect you from this dark world, Lilly,” he said. The way he said my name... it was like a doting father would. “I grew up believing life was war. Grandpa Rusty had damn good reason to believe that. In my lifetime, I have never been able to escape violence. But I had hoped that by protecting you, I would keep you away from the worst of this world.”
I’d heard similar spiels like this before, but never ones laced with such emotion. My father’s voice even shook a few times. Was this what it was like to have to realize your biggest goal in life had become a failure?
“Instead, it seems that it has only made you rebel and seek out the worst of humanity even more.”
“The worst?” I snapped. “Cole treated me right, Dad. I will not speak for whatever drama you have with them, but Cole Carter treated me well.”
“Sure, anyone can treat anyone well for a week or two. But what do you think would have happened over a few months? Once the initial magic wore off?”
He shook his head and looked away. I even thought he sniffled at one point, but I might have confused an emotional, tearful one for just a general one. Still, I had never seen my father so... genuine.
He really did love me. He might have fucked up in how he showed it and he might have felt the need to carry on a certain way, but…
Wow.
“Why didn’t you think I ever wanted to be raised normal, Dad?”
“What?” he said.
I spoke cautiously. I knew in the back of my mind this emotional façade could change at the drop of a hat.
“All I’ve ever known my life is pleasure and material goods,” I said. “You give me whatever I want, and yet in doing so, you’ve dulled that reward system. I don’t know what it’s like to suffer and strive for something. I say I want something, and I have it. I know it sounds weird, but I want some struggle in my life. I want some difficulty. You know?”
But my father did not know. He looked so baffled, so confused.
“Why would you want that?” he said. “Do you listen when I speak about your grandfather and me? You do realize we are not exaggerating when we say war has affected our lives permanently, right? Do you want to live with these scars and this suffering? Because I can assure you, Lilly, that the scars are not just external.”
“No, I’m not saying send me to war. I’m just saying send me to life. I can handle a little heartbreak and hard times. There’s a big difference between losing a relationship and losing a friend in battle.”
I had to hope I was speaking the same vernacular as my father. The very fact that I couldn’t even be sure of that said it all.
“But how can I ever experience those things if I don’t have the freedom to? I’m in my twenties and not only do I still live with you, if you had it your way, I’d be this way until my thirties. And you will die someday. How am I supposed to survive when you do and I’ve never experienced things on my own?”
My father stood up, walked past me, and went to the balcony from my room. He looked at me for the briefest of moments before turning his gaze back to the evening sky outside.
“Maybe I did fail you.”
What?
“Dad?”
In a million fucking years, I never would have thought those words would come out of my father’s mouth. As the shock wore off, though, I began to feel so much sorrow for my father. How much pain was he in that he finally had to say that?
“When your mother died, it became so difficult. I did what I thought was best, but... I failed you, Lilly, and for that, I am so sorry. I should have…”
He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say, but he didn’t need to. I felt my eyes water.
“It’s OK, Dad.”
I tried my hardest not to break. My father had, after all, still sent a hit squad after the man that I…
I couldn’t say “loved” but the word felt a lot more natural and easier than it had before.
“It’s not,” he said. “But we have no choice in the matter. We must move forward.”
His tone, as he spoke, shifted from sorrowful and grieving to determined and rigid again. I felt a great unease returning, like I’d gotten my thirty seconds with my true father, and now it was time for him to return to the deepest parts of a prison of his own making. Now, instead of my real father, I would get this man masquerading as a security guard, who would do everything to protect me and his true self from any kind of hurt.
“Dad?”
“A great battle is coming, Lilly,” he said. “The Reapers will not stand for having one of their own attacked in the privacy of their home. The violence will be even greater if it turns out we killed Cole Carter. It will be a great victory, but not one without consequences.”
He turned to me, the empathetic eyes replaced by the soulless ones, ones hellbent on winning a battle at all costs.
“The plan is still to send you to Oregon. Unfortunately, I cannot protect you here any longer.”
“Dad!”
“The Reapers will be coming here to exact their revenge, and I must be here to meet them. But do not fear, Lilly. I will join you in a couple of days. You have my promise.”
“Dad! Stop!”
My father shook his head.
“I would love nothing more than to stop,” he said. “I would love nothing more than to know peace in this world. But so long as the Carters are around, that will never be the case. And for that reason, you cannot stay here.”
I pursed my lips, all too aware that I had no say in the matter.
“Pack your bags,” he said. “You leave here within the hour. I will join you when things have settled down here. I will not come with any Saints.”
Why…
But before I could ask that, my father left, shutting the door gently behind him. I sunk into my bed, feeling so disappointed and defeated. For the briefest of moments, I had had a real father, one who listened to me and wanted to do right by me.
And now?
That father was buried once more, deep within the heart of his own bars.
But why would he be coming alone? Why was he not bringing any bodyguards? Anytime we went anywhere, he always had at least one person with us to provide security and protection. If not…
He thinks they’re going to get wiped out tonight. He’s just staying to make sure they don’t flee.
He’s going to make sure everything burns down before he runs so there’s no trace of him.
The thought was horrifying. It was also, unfortunately, far too in character with my father.
And there didn’t feel like there was anything I could do to stop him.
Cole
“Before we get started, Cole has requested to say something.”
Lane ceded the floor at our church meeting to me. All of the officers, as well as some of the more veteran club members, filled the church hall of the Black Reapers’ clubhouse. There was no distinguishing Gray from Black anymore; questions of roles and official names would take over at some point, but for now, we were all just Reapers.
“Some of you might have been wondering why the Saints chose to attack me, as opposed to any of you,” I said. “Many of you have conjectured that I was an easier Carter to target than Lane. And perhaps that is true. But you all need to know the truth. Phoenix knows this, and Patriot knows this, because they were with me when this h
appened. I found Lilly, Lucius’ daughter. And I took her home.”
We were all old enough and mature enough to not cheer or engage in silly, adolescent cheering or snickering. Plus, the situation was far too serious for us to just fall into that. And yet—and yet—I still feared some condescending remarks.
None came.
“I sheltered her at first to try and get some information out of her, hoping that she could give us some dirt on the Sartor house. But I would be lying if I said I felt no attraction to her. Eventually, this culminated not in intimacy, but absolutely in a sense of affection and romance. But she is in Albuquerque now. She is far away. I am here to take the fight to the Fallen Saints and to Lucius. So you all deserve to know why I may have seemed distant. And now you do.”
Lane cleared his throat. A few seconds of awkward silence came, perhaps as he waited to see if anyone had any questions.
“Cole, there is one thing you need to know,” he said. “You need to know this before we discuss our plan for tonight. Lilly’s not in Albuquerque.”
What?
“She’s back at her father’s house. Our intel saw her there.”
“Impossible…”
Had she lied to me? Had the whole thing really been one big trick to learn where I lived?
No, that could not have been the case. Just as we knew where the Saints were, they knew where we all lived. We simply understood attacking each other at our homes was grounds for mutually assured destruction. They had just…
They’d found her.
Somehow, someway, they must have found her at Union Station and kidnapped her. How, I had no idea. Maybe Lucius had spies all over. Maybe he had a network that ran deeper than I would have guessed. Maybe there were groups Lucius partnered with we weren’t aware of.
The how didn’t matter as much as the cold truth, though. We had to act accordingly to minimize the risk of her injury or worse.
“I need you, Cole, to reassure us that this will not affect your decision-making tonight. If you see a chance to kill Lucius, you need—”