I see that both Crown and Beast drink their coffee black—little surprise there.
But what about Sin? I wonder how he takes his.
“The club would never give into a demand like that,” I say finally, lifting my gaze up to meet Crown’s. It’s impossible to look at him and not think about the conversation that we had last night. The sex. More so, the cuddling.
I exhale.
He almost smiles but tries to hide it when he takes another sip of his drink.
“Never,” Beast agrees as he looks over at me. “More than that, you know your daddy would never sell you out like that.”
“Not even after …” I don’t want to say it. I hate the way it sounds. I hate it. “Finding out that I’m a traitor.” I make myself drink the coffee, staring at the surface of the table and hurting in ways that I cannot explain, that I don’t want to explain.
I miss Gaz, even though I hated him, even though he was a threat to my safety. Shit, he was a threat to everyone’s safety. Those fifty-plus lives the club lost? Those are on his conscience. I wouldn’t be surprised if, depending on your religious persuasion, he was burning in the fiery pits of hell or if maybe he got reborn as like, a slug who gets salt poured all over its back and shrivels up. Equally fitting punishments.
And yet I can’t help it.
I can’t help missing him.
I can’t help missing … something else, too.
Cat hates me. Cat told me we were alike. Cat … trusted me.
My father trusted me.
Something I’d always wanted, always dreamed of, even if I was far too cynical to admit it to myself let alone out loud. And I ruined that. I ruined all of that.
“Not even,” Crown agrees with a long sigh, tapping his fingers against the sides of his mug. “We don’t give up anyone: wives or daughters or even prospects; we close ranks.” He sounds proud when he says that and, I have to admit, that’s one of the main draws of the club, isn’t it?
Loyalty and community.
And that first one, we have trashed to hell and back.
I want to make it right. The urge rages within me, makes me burn and ache and want. I want to bring Cat bodies. I want to deliver heads. I want to prove to him that I was never out to destroy Death by Daybreak in the first place.
Yet, he still needs to be punished. I have a mental list of people who have to pay for my sisters’ deaths, and his is on it. He even holds blame for my brother’s death—and I don’t mean because he did what was needed and pulled the trigger. Cat raised Gaz; he made that monster.
“What’s the mood amongst the guys like?” I ask, wondering how the wedding day attack was explained away. There were bodies on our side, but no mafia bodies. Did the other club members assume Grey Wolfe Mafia took their dead with them? It happens. “Are people putting pressure on Cat to give me up?”
Crown shakes his head as Beast remains quiet and stoic, as usual.
“Nobody believes we’ll have peace either way, not even if they promise not to target anymore club families in exchange.”
My skin crawls with goose bumps. If that were possible, if that were even remotely true … but it isn’t. There’s no way to guarantee that. I’m not sure I’m that self-sacrificial anyway, but if I were so inclined, it wouldn’t matter. Once the mafia had me, there’d be nothing to keep them from breaking their word.
Never bargain with outlaws, whether they’re the silk tie or snakeskin type. Doesn’t matter either way. Never trust someone who spends their days dressed in blood.
“Sin is being released from the hospital soon,” Crown offers up eventually, setting his mug down and meeting my eyes. “Once he’s back, and Grainger is back, the five of us need to talk.”
Beast chuckles, but doesn’t look at either of us, his gaze focused out the window where the sun is cresting in the distance. It’s that disgusting orange color again, tainted with wildfire.
I glance over at my husband, and his eyes finally swing over to meet mine.
“We do need to talk,” I agree, looking back at Crown. “But that won’t change anything between us. Between me and Beast. Me and you.” I finish my coffee and set the mug down with a sigh. “I haven’t decided what to do about … this.” I gesture at my stomach. “But I’ll tell you one thing: if I do keep this pregnancy, I’m not getting a DNA test, and you assholes are just going to have to get over that.”
I stand up and leave the room, the sound of Beast’s low laughter trailing along behind me.
The work I do for the next few days is tedious and relentless. I meet more club wives and children than I could ever possibly remember. Everybody knows who I am though.
