Page 86 of Slaughter
I was going to choose. Deliberately. On my own terms.
And whatever happened next, I would face it with my eyes wide open.
Chapter Thirty
Hope
The raised voices hit me before I even reached the porch.
I paused at the greenhouse door, my hand on the frame, listening to the chaos spilling out through the open windows of the farmhouse. Male voices—angry, overlapping, sharp with frustration. And beneath them, the higher, equally fierce tones of my sisters.
I took a breath, steadying myself, and walked toward the house.
The living room was a war zone.
Balthazar stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, his face dark with fury. Zeke paced near the window, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. Chapman sat on the couch where I had left him hours ago, his face pale and drawn with pain, but his eyes were locked on my brothers with equal quiet defiance. And in the armchair by the window, Reaper sat with his legs crossed, a grin splitting his face as if he were watching the best damn show of his life as Sandman stood behind him.
“—doesn’t matter whatyouthink is acceptable,” Balthazar was saying, his voice low and dangerous. “The Golden Rule exists for a reason. You don’t touch sisters. Period. End of fucking discussion.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Charity snapped from where she stood near the couch, her hands on her hips. “Hope is a grown-ass woman, Balthazar. She doesn’t need your permission to date someone. I sure as hell didn’t when I married Nevil.”
“This isn’t about permission,” our brother growled. “And if I’d been here, that shit would have never happened!”
“Well, thank God you weren’t!” Charity snapped back, sticking her tongue out at him.
“Then what is it about?” Joy cut in, stepping forward from her spot near the doorway. Her voice was sharp, her seventeen-year-old face set with determination. “Because it sounds like you’re trying to control who Hope loves, and that’s bullshit. I got news for you, I’m gonna date whoever the hell I want.”
“Joy.”
“No!” Joy’s eyes flashed. “You don’t get to tell me who I get to love.”
“If my memory is correct,” a soft, tentative voice spoke up from behind, and I whirled around to find Faith standing behind me, glaring at our brothers. “Balthazar, didn’t you sleep with Mia before you disappeared for five years, then came back only to take off again with Ari? Zeke, you left the Golden Skulls and found Joan. But Chapman gets drunk and falls in love with Hope, and suddenly the rules matter again? How is that fair?”
Zeke stopped pacing and turned to face her, his expression tight. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?” Charity demanded. “Because you’re men and Hope’s a woman? Because you get to make choices, but she doesn’t?”
“Because Slaughter is a Golden Skull!” both Balthazar and Ezekiel shouted at the same time.
“So what?” Joy snapped.
“Slaughter is an executioner,” Balthazar said, trying to calm himself. “Because he works in the tomb. Because he’s dangerous—”
“So are you,” I said quietly.
Every head in the room turned toward me.
I stood in the doorway, my hands loose at my sides, my heart steady despite the chaos. Balthazar’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe, or recognition.
“Hope—” he started.
“So are you,” I repeated, stepping into the room. “You are vice president of the Golden Skulls, Balthazar. You’ve killed people. You’ve done things in the name of the club that would make most people sick. And yet Ari chose you anyway. She chose you knowing exactly what you were.”
Balthazar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
I turned to Zeke. “And you. You were an executioner too. You worked in the tomb just like Chapman. You’ve got blood on your hands, Zeke. But Joan chose you. She chose you despite the darkness, despite the danger, despite everything the MC world represents.”
Zeke’s expression cracked, just slightly, and I saw the truth of my words land.
