by K. Ryan
"What happened?"
Saul chuckled a little and then grimaced in pain. "She told Wallace she was pregnant."
My eyes just about fell out of my head. "What?"
"Yeah," he laughed again. "You shoulda seen the look on his face. Looked a little like yours right now, too."
Now my head was swimming as I tried to pin down one coherent, logical explanation for everything that happened tonight. I knew she'd lied, but that still didn't explain the bruising on her throat.
"But what about—"
"He walked away, didn't he?" Saul shook his head. "That's all that matters. There aren't many men out there who'll knowingly kill a pregnant woman and I guess Wallace isn't one of them. He must've realized what he was doing before it was too late."
My hands clenched around the towels. That didn't mean shit. That didn't mean I wouldn't find him and make him bleed, make him feel every second of the pain and fear he'd caused her. Theo Wallace needed to die for what he'd done to her.
"Don't do anything stupid, you hear me?" Saul's quiet, pained voice called out to me even as the ambulance sirens roared from outside. "You keep your head and you take care of your wife."
I didn't have time to respond because Isabelle was already letting in the paramedics and gesturing toward the kitchen. How she was even able to move around, let alone talk, was beyond me.
The EMTs moved me aside and it was just as well because two squad cars had already parked out in the lawn. I pulled Isabelle to me and wrapped my arms around her, breathing her in and squeezing my eyes shut for just a moment as the battle raged inside me. I needed to hold her, but I needed to hunt Wallace down and beat him to bloody pulp just as much. I needed to stay calm and level-headed, but every time I looked at her, every time I saw those purple, finger-shaped bruises on her throat, the more what little control I had slipped away and fell into oblivion.
"I put it in my dad's room," she told me. "If anyone finds it, we can just say we didn't know it was there."
I nodded tightly, my eyes darting to the front door to make sure the cops approaching us were still out of earshot. "Tell the cops you didn't see him. Tell them he was wearing a mask or something, but you never saw his face."
Her lips parted in surprise, but that quickly gave way to the reaction I was expecting: disbelief and fear. She saw it in an instant—all the ways I wanted to mutilate Wallace's body, all the blood I wanted to drain from him, all the violence I always knew I was capable of. I could feel it bubbling up and rising to the surface, just begging to be untethered. All I needed was this lie.
"What are you going to do?" she whispered and I felt her tremble in my arms.
"Let me worry about that. Just do it, okay?"
Isabelle's lips curled into a deep frown and her worried eyes never left mine even as the cops approached us with their questions. Given the circumstances, I probably shouldn't have been surprised by what happened next.
She shook her head at me and murmured, "I'm telling them the truth. Deal with it."
All I could do was hold her. All I could do was kiss her hair as the EMTs wheeled Saul out of the house on a gurney. All I could do was listen as she gave the cops her statement, slow and hoarse from the attack she'd suffered, and I felt myself wither and coil at the same time with every word. I stood stiffly next to her, hanging onto every word as she described what happened in my absence—how Wallace was waiting for them, how he pointed a gun at them, how she tried to reason with him, how she fought back, how he almost killed her just five minutes before I got there, and finally, how he simply stood up and walked away.
I should've been there. I never should've let her leave the shop without me tonight. Better yet, I never should've let her leave at all. But then again, I knew Wallace still would've been waiting for us and I knew the outcome would've been very, very different.
In the end, there was no way I was leaving her just yet. Instead, I lifted her into an ambulance and slid in right next to her, never leaving her side as an EMT inspected her injuries all the way to the hospital.
When it was all said and done, after the ER doctor felt good about sending Isabelle home and after Saul safely made it through surgery, I finally pulled out my phone and called my mom.
We traded information and as each new piece of the puzzle slipped into place, my heart plummeted deeper and deeper into my stomach. God, I never imagined it would ever come to this and now, I was torn apart from the inside yet again. Nothing would ever make this right. Nothing would ever erase what happened. And with every passing moment, that low boil on my blood turned up to a simmer.
I shoved my phone in my back pocket and closed my hands over her shoulders.
"Iz," I told her hoarsely. "Lex was attacked tonight too. Two of them broke into the house and took turns beating her up. My mom said Chloe saw the whole thing."
Isabelle's hand flew up to cover her mouth and her eyes watered with fresh tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, sending a new trail of tears streaming down her face and I wiped them away as best as I could.
"Is she—"
I shook my head tightly. "She won't come to the hospital. Doc's been patching her up."
Those words hung in the air for a few long moments before I took a deep breath. What I had to tell her was something I never thought I'd ever say again, something I never thought I'd ever want again, but here we were.
My grip tightened on her shoulders for strength to finally say the words: "I think we need to go to the clubhouse."
. . .
My hands curled around the steering wheel and I blew out a deep breath, my eyes darting to the building that loomed just a few yards in front of my truck. The last time I'd been on this property I'd thrown my patch down on the table and walked away for good. At least, at the time I'd thought it was for good. Being here right now was just a means to an end because I didn't exactly have the manpower behind me to go after Wallace on my own.
Every time I thought that name, every time I glanced at Isabelle's throat, I wanted to just leap out of my truck and run. Wherever Wallace was hiding, like the fucking coward he was, I would find him even if I had to track him down on foot so I could wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until all the life drained out of him.
"Are we going in or what?"
I almost laughed, but then the sound of her rough, cracked words rang in my ears. Just one more reminder of what he'd done to her. The way he'd hurt her. Hearing her voice only made my hands clench around the steering wheel tighter.
"Maybe you should stay in the truck," I thought out loud. "You should be resting for fuck's sake, not going inside the last place on earth I want to be right now."
Her pained, uneven voice called out to me anyway. "You don't have to go in there either. Maybe we should just go back to my dad's and decide what to do in the morning."
She was good. Real good. Seeing as how she knew me better than I probably knew myself, she probably figured stalling and giving me as many outs as humanly possible would somehow derail the inevitable. It wouldn't work.
"We can't go back there right now even if we wanted to. It's a crime scene, remember?"
Not to mention the fact that Saul's blood, and what I assumed was also Wallace's blood, was all over the kitchen.
Isabelle flinched at the reminder and I pushed out a heavy sigh, reaching for her shoulder. I knew I should be grateful she didn't push me away, she wasn't screaming at me—if she was able to scream—she wasn't threatening to pack up her shit right now and jump on the first plane to New York to put as much distance between herself and this mess as possible.
Something nagged at my mind with that last thought. The last thing I wanted was to be separated from her. If I went inside the clubhouse, if I gave in to all the dark thoughts firing through my mind, that's exactly what I'd be doing.
Then I glanced at my wife, at the finger-shaped marks circling her throat, and I opened the door.
The evidence of the drive-by was mostly cleaned up by now. Shards
of glass and some stray bullets still littered the pavement, but it wasn't like those little pieces of scenery were exactly out of place here. I wrapped an arm around Isabelle's waist to pull her in closer and it was just as much for my benefit as it was hers. She leaned into me and pressed her face against my shoulder as I pushed through the double doors.
I couldn't hesitate. If I took a breath, if I thought about it too much, I'd back down, and I couldn't let that happen. Something tugged at my mind, something just below the surface, and I had to shove it back down again because now, Isabelle and I were standing inside the clubhouse and everyone inside was staring at us.
It wasn't like I'd expected anyone to roll out the red carpet, but in light of what had happened to Isabelle tonight, a little empathy would've been nice. And fucking human too. Instead, Marcus, with his shoulder wrapped up in a bloody bandage, curled his lips into a snarl and turned away from us completely. That seemed to be the litmus test everyone else needed because one by one, they all fell in line and followed suit.
Everyone, of course, except for my mom, who rushed at Isabelle like a bat out of hell and practically threw herself at her, wrapping her in all the motherly warmth I would've expected from her.
Some of their gazes were locked right on Isabelle's neck—Casey, in particular, looked especially stricken at the sight—but none of them moved any closer. None of them stepped up to even ask if she was okay or if Saul was okay and my steps skidded to a halt. I sucked in a harsh breath as I surveyed this room. There were so many memories here, good and bad. So much of my life had been spent here. So much of my life had been wasted here.
This was completely insane. And stupid. And reckless. And fucking dangerous to even be standing in this place right now.
And then my eyes fell to Isabelle, who was staring up at me with watery devastation swimming in her blue eyes. She wasn't afraid of our surroundings, though. She was afraid for me. Terrified of what I wanted to do and the hell that would follow. That coiled rage just waiting to spring loose started to slip away even before Dom stepped around the hallway and stalked toward us.
"Brother," he nodded to me and shifted his gaze to Isabelle, wincing when he got a good look at her throat. "You're okay, right?"
She nodded as the man I used to consider family pulled her into a tight bear hug and murmured something in her ear.
"Lex is my dorm," Dom informed her in a tight voice. "You can go see her if you want."
Isabelle hesitated and I could see the indecision written all over her pale, exhausted face. She wanted to see for herself that Lex was really okay, or at least, as okay as she could be, but she didn't want to leave my side either. It was all there in those eyes: the fear of what I might agree to if she left for even a second.
"I will," she promised, but shook her head. "Just not yet, okay?"
Now I stood in front of the men who I'd grown up with, and who'd also written me off without a second thought, with my anchor at my side.
I didn't know which way I wanted to be pulled.
"What's the plan?" I asked Dom. He was the only one I really wanted to talk to and the only one who had just as much stake in this as I did.
"We're going after them," he told me curtly as if it were already a foregone conclusion.
"You know Iz told the cops Wallace was the one who attacked her, right?"
Dom's demeanor shifted on a dime. His face hardened into a stony mask and any lingering concern he might've had for Isabelle evaporated. A switch flipped and it was all gone now. His cold, menacing glare shifted to Isabelle and he had the balls to actually take an aggressive step toward her.
And that was it.
That last string keeping us tethered together finally unraveled.
"Whoa, Dom," I gritted my teeth and shot my hands out to keep myself in between them. "You get any closer to her like that and we're gonna have some problems. Don't you think she's been through enough already tonight?"
Dom blinked at me and he heaved out a long, tortured sigh. I got it. I really did. I wanted to burn Wallace's body to a crisp and bury the ashes just as much as he did, but wanting to do it and actually doing it were two very different things. I hadn't let myself really think about why Isabelle had stubbornly refused to lie to the cops tonight, but it made sense now. It was the same reason she'd hidden my gun in her dad's room, too.
"I'm sorry, Isabelle," he whispered as he shuffled backward to give us some space. "I didn't mean to—"
I just shook my head. We never should've stepped foot in this place tonight. God, what was I doing?
"She gave them a statement, Dom. Told them everything. They're gonna be looking for him just as much as you are. Maybe you should—"
"I don't give a shit about the cops," Dom snapped. "It doesn't matter anyway. We'll find Wallace long before they ever catch a whiff of him."
"And how are you planning on doing that?"
He threw a look over his shoulder. "Eli's on it."
Right. Of course. Stealth tracking and all that shit. Eli's specialty.
Now that tugging and nagging at my conscience was starting to get the better of me. I didn't even need to hear Dom's plan to know it was a bad one. Given the hard stares leveled our way, I knew I probably wouldn't get too many more details as long as Isabelle was in the room.
To them, she wasn't someone who could be trusted. She was someone who'd run to the cops and potentially blown their one and only chance to put Wallace and the Warlords into the ground. And because of that, my arm just tightened around her waist.
"Look, brother," Dom's voice dropped lower and he shot another quick look over his shoulder before pressing on. "We're gonna be moving on Wallace soon and you're welcome to come with us. You have just as much a right to go as I do," he threw a pointed look Isabelle's way before looking to me again. "You should come with us."
About five minutes ago, I was all in. Ready to pounce with guns blazing and ready to unleash the blood-soaked, rage-fueled vengeance Wallace deserved. Now I wasn't so sure. Now I swallowed hard and turned to my wife, whose swimming eyes had never left me, who I'd promised I would never leave again. It all washed over me: the new life we were about to have together, the fresh start I'd always wanted, the family right on the horizon, and then I heard Saul's voice in my head. He was always full of sage advice and I'd brushed this one off nearly two months ago without a second thought. Now they were the only words in my head.
It's not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.
There was no other choice but her. No other fate but her. No other life but with her.
This was the third time being with Isabelle would save my life and it wasn't just getting myself out of the club either. The night of the break-in, if I'd been alone, if she hadn't agreed to stay with me, I probably would've ran down the stairs with my gun in my hand and gotten my stupid ass shot. And if I went with the club, if I gave in, I wouldn't survive the night.
I just shook my head. It was both the easiest and the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
"I can't," I murmured hoarsely. Dom's eyes widened and I heard a strangled sound from Isabelle next to me.
I wanted to. I wanted to hop on my bike, race to wherever Eli had tracked Wallace down with Dom, and drive a knife right into Wallace's heart. I just couldn't.
"What do you mean you can't?" he demanded.
I lifted a shoulder and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the betrayal and the disappointment on his face. I didn't know if I could stand it.
"I need to get Iz out of here," I stated softly despite the murmurs echoing from around the room at my admission. "It's not safe for either of us right now, so we're getting on a plane and we're going to New York."
I peered over Dom's shoulder to find my mom watching this scene play out with tears in her eyes and a hand covering her mouth.
"Mom," I called out to her. "You should come with us."
She gaped at us, her dark eyes darting from me to Isabelle and back to me again bef
ore she shook her head.
"I have to stay with Marcus."
Right. What other choice did she have? Not her son and only real family, of course. By now, Dom had had enough waiting and he unleashed.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he bellowed in my face and all I saw was pure desperation and disbelief.
I got that, too. I knew that desperation. Knew what it felt like to listen to a gunshot through the phone and hear my wife scream. Knew how helpless I'd felt running to my truck, knowing I might not make it time, knowing that offering myself up to Wallace's mercy in Isabelle's place hadn't been enough, and knowing that if she died, it would've been because of me. I just couldn't let it own me anymore.
"He walked away," I pointed out and swallowed hard when Dom's expression contorted into barely-contained fury. "So I'm walking away too."
Dom just shook his head, as if he couldn't make sense of what he was hearing.
"We both know going after him isn't going to undo what happened to Iz and Lex. Hell, it won't make either of us feel better because we'll just end up in the back of a squad car or in a body bag. You've always been smarter than this and it's just not worth it."
Taking Theo Wallace's life wasn't worth losing either of ours. Dom had to see the truth there. Maybe he just wasn't ready to accept it yet.
"So I should just walk away too, huh? That's what you're saying?" Dom sputtered, shaking his head in fractured disbelief and ran a hand through his hair as he laughed bitterly. "How am I supposed to explain that to my wife? How am I supposed to explain to my daughter that I just let the men who beat her mother up in front of her get away with it?"
"You let the cops handle it like I'm going to. Even if that means a trial and everything that goes with it, it's better than the alternative. They're not getting away with anything."
Dom shot me a hard glare. "Isabelle giving Wallace's name tonight doesn't help Lex."
He was right. I couldn't argue against that one and all I could do was nod.
Dom jabbed a finger in my chest with all the animosity I'd never seen in him before and growled, "If you walk out that door, we're done. You might as well be dead to me if you're willing to just pretend what happened to my wife and what happened to your wife doesn't matter."