Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
JAX
The early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bed. Bella’s tucked against my side, her head resting on my chest, her steady breathing the kind of peace that makes me never want to leave this spot.
But duty calls.
I press a kiss to her forehead before shifting slightly, careful not to wake her as I reach for my phone to check the time. It’s almost time for church, and I can’t miss it—especially not with the way things have been shifting in the club lately.
“Morning, baby,” I murmur when her eyes flutter open.
She smiles sleepily, her fingers brushing against my side. “Morning.”
I lean in, kissing her softly. “I gotta head to the club, baby. I’ve got church.”
Her eyes widen, and she props herself up on one elbow, blinking at me. “You go to church?”
I laugh, a deep belly laugh that makes her cheeks flush. “No, baby. Not that kind of church. It’s what we call our club meetings. And I can’t miss one, especially since I’m an officer.”
“Oh,” she says, her cheeks growing redder as she realizes her mistake.
I grin, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear before kissing her deeply, savoring the way she leans into me. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours. You can hang out here and spend some time with Oreo.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking toward the door like she’s unsure.
“No pressure,” I say, leaning back slightly to meet her gaze. “I can take you home if you want, but I like the idea of having you here to come home to.”
Her lips curve into a small smile, and she nods. “I’ll stay. Oreo and I will keep each other company.”
“That’s my girl,” I say, kissing her once more before climbing out of bed to get ready.
At Perdition, the meeting room is packed when I arrive. The officers sit at the table, while the rest of the members gather around, some standing, others leaning against the walls. The air is thick with tension, a mix of anticipation and unease.
Mason sits at the head of the table, his expression as sharp as ever. Dagger’s to his left, his usual calm demeanor unreadable, while Piston leans back in his chair, his knuckles cracking like clockwork.
“Let’s get started,” Mason says, his gravelly voice cutting through the chatter. The room quiets and all eyes are on him.
He launches into a discussion about the direction of the club, outlining the plans for more legitimate businesses and expanding our security and protection services.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” Mason says, his gaze sweeping across the room. “We can’t keep relying on the old ways. The risks are getting higher, and the payoff’s not what it used to be. It’s time to adapt, or we’re going to fall apart.”
There’s a low rumble of agreement from some of the members, but it’s drowned out by grumbles from the older guys.
“This ain’t what we signed up for,” one of them says, his voice rough and loud. “We’re not a bunch of bodyguards. We’re Reapers.”
“Reapers who need to survive,” Mason shoots back, his tone sharp. “The world’s changing, and if we don’t change with it, we’re done.”
“Bullshit,” another voice pipes up. “We’ve been running guns and doing what we do for decades. It works.”
“Does it?” Dagger asks quietly, his voice cutting through the noise. “How many guys have we lost in the last five years? How many times have we been one step away from losing it all?”
The room falls quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over everyone.
“I get it,” Mason says, his tone softening just a little. “Change is hard. But this isn’t about taking away who we are—it’s about making sure we’ve still got a future. For us, for our families. You want to hold on to the old ways? Fine. But don’t forget what it’s cost us.”
The tension in the room spikes like a lit fuse when Butch, one of the old-timers, leans forward and growls, “This is fucking stupid. I, for one, am not going to be part of a pussy-whipped club who let their old ladies call the shots.”
A low murmur ripples through the room, and I can feel the shift in the air. Piston straightens in his chair, his jaw ticking, while Dagger’s eyes narrow, sharp as knives. Mason doesn’t react right away, but the way his hands grip the edge of the table tells me he’s holding himself in check.
I glance at Rev, who shakes his head subtly, clearly unimpressed. Blade lets out a soft snort, muttering something under his breath that I can’t quite catch, but it’s probably nothing complimentary.
Mason finally leans forward, his gaze locking on Butch like a predator sizing up its prey. “You done?” he asks, his tone calm but deadly.
Butch shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Just calling it like I see it. The club has been running just fine for decades. Now we’re talking about turning into a bunch of security guards and family men? Might as well hand out aprons while we’re at it.”
“Careful,” Piston says, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re walking a fine line.”
Butch sneers. “What, are you going to tell me I’m wrong? You don’t think this whole thing’s a load of shit?”
“I think you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve talking like that,” Dagger cuts in, his voice cold. “Especially when you’ve done jack shit to move this club forward in years.”
The room goes quiet at that, a tense silence stretching out as Butch glares at Dagger.
Mason clears his throat, breaking the standoff. “Let me make something real clear,” he says, his voice steady but sharp. “This club isn’t about living in the past. It’s about survival, about brotherhood, and about protecting what’s ours. You got a problem with that, Butch?”
Butch glares at him, but he doesn’t respond.
“Thought so,” Mason says, leaning back in his chair. “Now, if you’ve got something constructive to say, speak up. Otherwise, sit down and shut the fuck up.”
The room stays quiet for a beat before Butch mutters something under his breath and crosses his arms, clearly pissed but not brave enough to push further.
Mason’s gaze sweeps over the rest of us, his jaw tight. “Anyone else got something to say?”
Nobody speaks, and the tension finally starts to ease.
But as I sit there, watching the older guys shift uncomfortably in their seats, I can’t help but think this isn’t over. Change is never easy, and for some of these guys, it’s going to feel like a fight. It might just come to that.
When I walk through the door, the first thing I notice is the quiet hum of the TV in the living room. The second thing I notice is Bella.
She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of my old t-shirts and a pair of my gym shorts. Her hair’s tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face, and Oreo is sprawled across her lap, her head resting contentedly as Bella scratches behind her ears.
Bella glances up when I step inside, and her lips curve into a smile. “How was church?” she asks, her tone light, with a quirk of her lips that makes me laugh.
I hold up the bag of sandwiches I picked up on the way home. “I brought lunch.”
“Oh, thank God! I’m starving!” She carefully nudges Oreo off her lap, earning a disappointed groan from the dog, and gets up to join me.
I give Oreo a scratch behind the ears as I walk by. “Don’t worry, girl, I didn’t forget you.” I toss her a dog biscuit, and she’s up in a flash, happily catching it mid-air.
Bella follows me into the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. “What’d you get?” she asks, leaning over the counter as I unpack the sandwiches.
“I wasn’t sure what you were into, so I figured turkey would be safe.”
“That’s perfect! Turkey’s my go-to,” she says, already unwrapping hers.
We sit at the kitchen island, the bag of chips I grabbed from the pantry between us. It’s easy and comfortable—just the sound of wrappers crinkling and the occasional crunch of chips as we eat.
Between bites, Bella glances at me. “I’ll probably need to head home soon,” she says, her tone apologetic. “I need to get ready for the week.”
I nod, finishing off my sandwich. “I get it. Got a busy week ahead?”
“Always,” she says with a small laugh. “But it’s worth it. I like what I do.”
Her words remind me of our conversation last night, and I catch myself smiling at her. There’s something about the way she talks about her work, her family, everything—it’s honest, grounded, and I can’t get enough of it.
“Thanks for sticking around,” I say after a moment, my tone soft. “It was nice coming home to this.”
Bella looks up, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she smiles. “It was nice being here.”
And just like that, I know this isn’t something I want to let go of anytime soon.