Page 28 of Saint’s Revenge

"You did make the right choice."

"Maybe. But that didn't stop me from second-guessing myself every day." He leans back against the couch, grimacing as his spine protests. "Eventually I settled in one place long enough to get my EMT certification. Then paramedic training. Told myself if I couldn't save you and Daniel, at least I could save other people."

My throat tightens. "Lucas—"

"I know how that sounds," he interrupts. "Like I was trying to make up for leaving. And maybe I was. But it also felt right. Felt like something good I could do with my life instead of just... existing."

"How did you end up here?"

"Heard about the Iron Phoenix through someone I worked with. Former paramedic who mentioned he used to know people in the MC world. He told me about Phoenix. About how he'd just left the Vipers and started something different out here."

Something clicks in my memory. "Phoenix… I remember him from the Vipers' clubhouse, I think. Him and his brother Carter. They were around sometimes but never really close with anyone."

Lucas nods. "Yeah. They were there when Daniel and I were patched in. But Phoenix kept his distance even then. Daniel never trusted him."

"Daniel didn't trust anyone who didn't worship the ground he walked on," I say, “He always complained about people not being loyal.”

"Phoenix understood loyalty just fine. He just wasn't loyal to something that was rotting from the inside." Lucas meets my eyes. "Three years ago, after a big fight he took his brother and left. Started the Iron Phoenix. Built something based on protection instead of exploitation."

"And you came looking for him."

"Yeah, as soon as I heard about it, I found the clubhouse. Asked to prospect." He pauses. "Phoenix recognized me immediately. Knew exactly who I was and what I was running from."

"Did he hold it against you? Being Daniel's brother?"

"No. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't bringing trouble with me." Lucas's voice is rough. "Made me prospect for six months. Wanted to be certain I was serious. That I wouldn't change my mind and run back to Daniel the first time things got hard."

"But he gave you a chance."

"Yeah. Eventually patched me in. Gave me a place where I could be someone other than Demon's little brother." He looks around the medical room. "And I've been the club's medic ever since. Handle everything short of major surgery. Gunshot wounds, broken bones, stab wounds, concussions. Keep people alive when they shouldn't be."

I stare at him. At this man who left our hometown and became someone who saves lives. Who found a club that actually cares about protecting people. Who built a medical room that rivals some hospitals.

"Were you happy? These last three years. Before the war started. Were you happy here?"

He considers that for a long moment. "I was... content. Had purpose. Had brothers who had my back. Had the medical skills to help when people got hurt." He pauses. "But there was always something missing. Something I couldn't name but felt anyway."

"What was it?"

"You." The word is quiet. Honest. "I wondered what you were doing. If you were safe. If Daniel was treating you right or if you were paying the price for my choices."

My throat tightens. "I made my own choices, Lucas."

"I know. But that didn't stop me from worrying." He stands, starts pacing. Restless energy that needs somewhere to go. "Every time I heard about the Vipers, every bit of news that filtered through, I was terrified I'd hear something had happened to you."

"You never tried to contact me."

"No." His voice is rough. "Because if I had, Daniel would have known. Would have used it against you. The only way to keep you safe was to stay gone completely."

"So you stayed gone and became a medic for an MC."

"Yeah." He stops pacing. Looks at me. "Built this room. Stocked it. Made sure the club would never have to risk a hospital visit if something went wrong. And told myself every day that I'd made the right choice even though it felt like I'd ripped my own heart out."

We stare at each other across the small room. Five years of silence and guilt and choices we can't take back.

"You saved a lot of people," I say. "In those two years as a paramedic. And here, with the club. You've probably saved more lives than you can count."

"Doesn't change the fact that I left you behind."