Saber's Surrender (Imperial Knights #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

Roxy

When I got the hell out of the infirmary as rapidly as my feet would allow me, I held back the sobs that were racking my chest. Holding them in was painful, but there’s no way in hell I’d allow these men to see how true his words hit me.

I’ve carried the guilt of putting our son up for adoption since I signed on the dotted line. Weston thinks I did it to hurt him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I did it for my boy. As his mother, I wanted the best for him and in my heart of hearts, the choice I made I believed was exactly that.

However, even though I believed wholeheartedly that what I was doing was for the best for all three of us, that doesn’t abolish the remorse I carry. I was worried about resenting Weston, but it’s ended up being the other way around.

The day he walked away from me in the birthing room and signed up for the military, I knew his resentment ran deep, I just didn’t realize at the time how deep that ran until he found me and forced me to become the pediatric specialist for the Imperial Knights Motorcycle Club.

They’ve recently faced some challenges and had to make some hard decisions. One of those meant they had to change their club name, and I just so happened to be here during the thick of it all. I’ve known hardship and fear throughout my life, but having my hand forced and being tossed into the lion's den so to speak, has been the most frightening thing I’ve faced to date.

I’ve watched television and in my downtime, I’ve even read some motorcycle club romances, but none of those prepared me for what it’s like in real life. I expected some rude and rowdy men, but the fact that they function like one big blended family was something completely unexpected.

In my mind, I knew that they were a brotherhood who always had the other’s back, dysfunctional or otherwise, nonetheless, the way they band around one another is awe inspiring and I didn’t expect to like them or even come to care for them. But they’ve wormed their way into my heart—well, all but one of them has.

Even though Saber’s anger and hatred for me holds some merit, he doesn't need to be downright cruel. If anything, I should be the one holding a grudge considering he tossed a few of my belongings into a tote bag and tussled me up like he was a roper in the rodeo before tossing me into the back of a van.

When we got to our designation, he finally untied me and unbound my mouth from its handkerchief binding, then sat there and listened as I resigned from my job and called in the lease to my apartment.

The only light during that dark time was that the club paid for my early termination fees, made sure I didn’t have a bad standing at the hospital in case the day ever comes when I can return to my life and resume my authoritative position as the head pediatric surgeon and preterm births doctor, and sent the prospects to pack up my belongings and truck them to me.

But that was the only good thing Saber did for me. After that, he all but threw me into a jail cell, no matter how nice and spacious the room was, and I didn’t see him, or anyone, again until it was mealtime. Then, he shoved a tray into the room and shut and locked the door before I saw him again the following day.

“At least it had an ensuite,” I mumble to myself as I plop on my bed. As his harsh words reverberate through my mind, I curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.

“I’d rather die serving my country than finish school and have to look at you for the next few years,” Weston spat as he watched our newborn being wheeled from the room.

Tears steadily dripped down my face as his words penetrated the fog. “Don’t join on account of me, I can transfer schools. I only came here because that’s where we decided as a couple that we wanted to go.”

Every time he tried to get me to look at our baby, I turned the other direction. He thinks this is easy for me, but it’s the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done in my life. But at least I know our son will be loved and given everything neither of us can currently provide for him.

From what the social worker told me when she looked over their dossier, this couple has been trying for ten years to have a baby of their own and have been unsuccessful. After they all but gave up, they went the adoption route only to have lost not one, but two babies due to the mother changing her mind at the last minute. I can’t even begin to understand their heartbreak and devastation due to that happening to them.

When I read their portfolio, I knew they were the right people to raise our boy. He’s a music teacher at the high school and she’s a civil rights advocate and attorney. Their careers called to my soul and I knew that no matter what challenges my son faces, he’ll have good, honorable people at his back to help him see it through.

“Don’t bother. Not on my account, I’ll be shipping off next week for boot camp. At least there, I’ll be able to continue my education and still be able to accomplish my dream of being a doctor.

“Weston,” I sobbed, hands firmly planted over my face. “Please.”

“Please what, Foxy? Please stay and help you raise our son? Please stay and continue this farce of a relationship? Did anything we plan for ourselves mean anything to you because from where I’m standing, they didn’t mean jack shit!”

Choking on my spit, I started saying, “I know you’re angry ? —”

“Angry,” he spat out. “I’m not angry, Foxy. Not anymore. I’m furious, I’m disgusted, and I’m wishing I’d never met you.”

“Go,” I whispered, knowing that once he sat his mind on something, there’d be no stopping him. One day, when he’s clear headed and thinking more rationally, we can work past this. I have to believe that because he’s been my everything since before I can remember. It’s always been him and me against the world.

“Bye, Foxy Roxy,” he despondently muttered as he grabbed his hat from the chair, plopped it on his head and walked away without looking back.

“Bye, Weston. I love you.” Feeling rejected, I lose myself into a pit of depression that lasts several years.

I jolt awake, sweat dripping from every pore as I am accosted with a live stream of never-ending reels dictating the years of depression I suffered through.

Each day was a struggle.

It took every ounce of willpower to live a normal life—even if it was delusive. It hurt, everything hurt.

I couldn’t focus.

I hated myself with each passing moment and my concentration was set on remembering how to survive and the things necessary to accomplish that.

How to breathe.

How to bathe.

Remembering to dress.

I compelled myself to simply exist.

I eventually sought out a therapist who specializes in helping those who’ve placed their babies up for adoption and harbor a lot of grief from that decision. It wasn’t until I hit an all-time low that I realized I needed help. When I found myself hovering over the edge of the science department building, I knew that if I didn’t do something about it and the state I was in, that it’d eventually take me.

Looking over at the alarm clock on my bedside table I realize that I’ve slept for a few hours and I can’t afford to sit here and go down this dark path any longer. I have to finish up Naveah’s chart and wrap up a few things before I can call it a night.

Begrudgingly, I head into the attached bathroom, relieve my bladder, and swipe some water on my face to clear the tear tracks from my skin. There’s nothing I can do about my swollen, red rimmed eyes, so I dry off and head out the door.

Along the way, I keep my head hung but watch ahead of myself for signs of feet so I can reroute my path. I manage to successfully make it around everyone without being accosted and asked any questions. A lot of the time I’m dragged into small talk, nothing consequential, just everyone wanting me to feel connected with the lot of them.

It’s nice of them to try, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel that. Not that I blame them for my predicament, I’ve come to realize that none of them know how barbarously I came to be in their midst. But I still don’t ever feel like being a chatty Kathy. I try to be as polite as possible, but I still get a few wary eyes because they’re not sure how to approach me and make me feel included.

As I breach the infirmary door, I gasp in shock when a gravelly voice takes me by surprise. “Wanna tell me why you and Saber can’t manage to be around one another and why neither of you can tolerate it long enough to have an adult conversation when it comes to managing the care of my kids?”

“Dragon.” I heave, my breath feeling like it’s about to explode inside of my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Wasn’t my intention, Roxanne.” I hate it when someone uses my full name, it takes me back to a time and place I’d really rather not revisit. “I’d apologize, but right now I’m not feeling very apologetic since my woman left here full of tension from the chill between the two of you. She’s worried that whatever differences the two of you have will eventually affect our children and the quality of care they get. All I really want is for my question to not be avoided by any of the bullshit you two usually spew and I’d really like it if you gave me an answer. An honest one.”

Chewing on my bottom lip I consider the fact that if I were to tell him all of the raw, gritty details, the brothers will probably all band together with Saber when it comes to how much he hates me. I don’t want to live with this hanging over my shoulder, but I also don’t want to enter a room and feel as though hostility is being thrown my way either. So I compromise with myself and decide to share parts of it without exposing all of it.

Angling my head upward so I can look him in the eye, knowing I can do that with sincerity since what I have to say isn’t a lie per se, it’s just not the meat of the why’s. I start off by saying, “We’ve known each other all of our lives and we didn’t part on good terms.”

“You don’t say,” he acknowledges, crossing his arms across his barreled chest. “Care to expand on that?”

“Not really since it’s a private matter,” I disclose. When his eyes narrow, I sigh. “We had a disagreement about how to handle a situation. I didn’t do what he wanted me to, so he joined the military and vowed to never speak to me again.”

“See, here’s my problem with that.” Dragon stalls, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip as he examines me as if I’m one of his prospects who isn’t following his directive. It causes me to shiver as his irises elongate and his pupils darken to where they’re nearly black in color. “Tell me everything.” I clutch my head as pain radiates throughout my brain. It feels as if I’m being invaded by a foreign entity and a migraine pierces my scalp.