Property of Fox (Mayhem Makers: Bastard Boilers MC)

31. Asher

ASHER

The air bites at my skin as I stand before the marble headstone, its cold surface mirrored by the fresh layer of snow that blankets the ground. The world around me is hushed in a thick silence, enveloped in winter’s grasp.

“It’s done, baby. We got him,” I whisper her name into the cold wind as if it might carry my words to her in the beyond. “I kept my promise to you.”

I kneel down and gently place a cluster of vibrant yellow roses on her grave—her favorite color. The flowers she wanted for our wedding. A sharp gust of wind rustles the bare branches overhead, and for a fleeting moment, I can almost hear her voice. I close my eyes, picturing her smile, the way it lit up even the darkest corners of my life.

My chest tightens as I remember the promise I made the day we laid her to rest here. That the man who stole her from me would pay with his life. The debt is now paid, and my soul feels lighter. I’d spent so much of the last few years fueled by my grief and rage for Kennedy’s life being cut short that it feels almost weird to be carrying less of the burden of her death.

The roar of a motorcycle engine in the distance drags me back to the present. I rise, shaking off the chill that threatens to settle in my bones. I turn my gaze down the winding path leading to the graveyard, squinting against the pale winter sun that breaks through heavy clouds. A rider on a black motorcycle parks next to my work truck.

Az strides toward me purposefully. I catch sight of him pulling a bouquet—a collection of blue irises and stark white lilies from his saddle bag before he walks over to me.

“Thought you’d be here,” he says softly without preamble once he's within earshot, nodding towards Kennedy's headstone as he places his flowers delicately next to mine. His deep blue eyes survey her name etched into cold granite before flickering back to meet mine.

“I promised her that I would come back once the person responsible was dead,” I reply, thinly curbing emotion after years spent trying not to feel anything at all. The ache I'd buried until it all could become bearable again. It hasn’t.

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. Az's gaze turns distant, his expression hardening as he battles his own demons. The sadness in his eyes deepen, mirroring the grief resting heavily on my chest. I know he understands the depth of this moment. He loved Kennedy nearly as much as I did. Her loss weighing on him nearly equally as hard.

“It's been a long road,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly like the asphalt under our tires. “But you got through it, brother. She would be proud of you. We can all move on now.”

I nod, unable to find words that could encapsulate the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. Proud? Maybe. But all I feel right now is hollow. Without retribution fueling me, there’s an empty space inside of me. One without purpose. I look back at her headstone, tracing the letters of her name with my fingertip, feeling the cold stone against my skin and committing them to memory.

“I’m leaving, Az.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, battling my own instincts. It feels wrong to let go while she's still buried right beneath us.

“Leaving?” Az’s voice is laced with disbelief.

I take a deep breath, the frigid air biting my lungs as I steel myself against the urge to let my emotions spill over. “I can’t stay here,” I say. “Not now that it's done. I need to find something else to fill this void.”

He steps closer, shoulders tense as if he might reach out and pull me back from whatever precipice I was peering over. “You think running away will help? It’s not going to change anything.” His voice drops to a whisper, raw and pleading. “You’re just going to lose yourself all over again.”

A laugh escapes me, harsh and bitter. “Lose myself? I lost myself the moment I buried her, Az. This is just the aftermath.” I sweep my hand around the otherwise serene graveyard, its winter beauty now tainted by the shadows of grief that cling to every tree and gravestone.

Az takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. The wind tousles his dark hair, revealing sharp lines on his jaw as he contemplates my words. “And where do you think you’ll go? Just disappear into thin air like it doesn’t matter?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, frustration bubbling up inside me like molten lava waiting to erupt. “But staying here feels like a slow death.”

His expression hardens as he shakes his head slowly, resolutely dismissing my thoughts as if they were folly rather than grief. “You’re not thinking straight. You really think riding away will erase any of this?” His blue eyes narrow, a storm brewing within them that mirrors the turmoil in my heart. “This isn’t about the place, It’s about you.”

“I can’t find peace here,” I insist, pushing back against his scrutiny. “It reminds me of everything I lost—every moment we could have had together.” My voice breaks slightly on the last words. Anguish tightens around my throat, suffocating me under a veil of regret.

Az steps closer again, his presence a steadying force amidst my unraveling thoughts. “Then let me help you find it. You don’t have to run from me or the club or any of it.” There is an intensity in his gaze that dares me to reconsider.

I look away, staring at a nearby tree whose branches are laden with snow, its sturdy form unyielding against the harsh winds. “You don’t understand what it feels like to have your world turned upside down without warning,” I argue, pain lacing every word. “Riding out into the unknown feels better than facing another day here.”

Silence settles between us again.

“I can’t change your mind, can I?”

“No,” I reply. “

Az swallows hard, his jaw clenching in that way it always does when he tries to hold back feelings too intense to share. I slip my cut from my shoulders, handing it to him.

"You're making a mistake. You don’t have to walk this road by yourself,” he urges, his fingers tightening around the leather as if trying to pull me back into the fold with mere force of will.

I shake my head firmly, my gaze locked onto the horizon where dark clouds gather like a storm brewing just beyond reach. "I have to find my own way again, Az. It’s the only thing that feels right."

His hands clench around the cut, knuckles turning white as he fights against losing me in this fragile moment. “And if you get lost along the way?”

“Then I’ll get found again.”