Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
BLADE
I grab the bottle instead of the glass this time and pour a sloppy shot straight into my mouth. Riot sighs. Ghost studies me like he’s profiling a psychopath. Fair.
“She wasn’t supposed to be my problem,” I snarl suddenly, voice too loud, too raw. “I should’ve left her alone the second I realized she wanted me. I knew better. I knew she was too young for this shit. Too soft. Too damn naive.”
Riot raises a brow. “Young doesn’t mean stupid, man.”
“She acted like a child tonight.” My hand hits the bar again. Hard. “I told her one fucking thing. Stay home. Stay safe. Don’t go wandering off while there’s predators circling this town.”
Ghost’s voice is calm but pointed. “She went for tacos. Not a strip club.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap. “Rules don’t get to change because she’s bored.”
Riot shakes his head. “She’s a woman, Blade. Not some toddler you gotta lock in a playpen.”
I ignore him. I am too far gone to hear reason. “I’m too old for this shit,” I spit. “Too old to babysit a girl who thinks this life is just leather jackets and dramatic glares across the club.”
Ghost lifts his beer slowly. “She knows more than you think.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” I bark. “She doesn’t get what it costs. How fast things go to hell. How easy it is to lose everything. I’ve buried a woman before. I’m not watching it happen again.”
Riot whistles low. “So you punish the girl for loving you. Solid plan.”
But the poison is already flooding me. And once I start, I don’t know how to stop.
“I let my dick make decisions,” I admit in a bitter laugh.
“Like some dumb prospect thinking he’s bulletproof.
I knew she’d complicate my head. I knew she’d make me weak.
And I still let her in. Now look where we are. ”
Ghost tilts his head. “Where are you exactly?”
“Drunk,” I say, raising the bottle in a mock toast. “And pissed as hell at myself for letting a girl like her crack open something I kept locked for a reason.”
Riot leans back on his stool. “Brother. You’re not mad at her. You’re mad at fear.”
“Fear is smart,” I shoot back. “Fear kept me alive.”
Ghost doesn’t flinch. “Fear is also what’s going to make you lose her.”
I laugh, but it’s humorless and broken. “Maybe that’s what’s best for her.”
Ghost and Riot exchange a look. One of those silent brother-to-brother conversations I’m too drunk and too stubborn to decode.
Riot finally speaks. “Do you actually believe that?”
My jaw ticks. “I have to.” Because the alternative is believing that I deserve her. And I don’t.
Ghost swallows the rest of his beer and sets the bottle down. “Fine. Be angry. Be stupid. Drink till you puke. But when you wake up tomorrow, she’ll still be hurt. And you’ll still love her. And none of this bullshit is gonna make that easier.”
Riot taps my chest with two fingers. Hard. “You can’t scare someone into staying. And you sure as hell can’t scare them into feeling safe.”
I stare at those two assholes, these brothers who I trust with my life, these men who are right even though I’d rather throw them across the bar than admit it, but I’m not ready to face the truth they’re pushing in front of me.
I’m not ready to apologize or back down, not while fear is still shouting louder than love.
So I twist away from both of them, grab the bottle again, and take another long swallow, letting the burn give me something simpler to feel.
Anger is easier than heartbreak, and whiskey is a hell of a lot easier than finding the right words.
Morning hits me like it’s got a personal vendetta, my skull pounding and my mouth tasting like something died in it twice.
I crack one eye open and instantly regret the decision when Perdition’s neon sign flickers in through the grimy front windows, reminding me that I passed out at the damn bar like a first-rate idiot.
Riot and Ghost are long gone, probably decided I wasn’t worth babysitting and headed home before things got embarrassing, which means I must’ve been really pathetic.
My bottle is still sitting in front of me with one sad swallow left and for a split second I consider finishing it off, because nothing says stable adult decisions like chasing a hangover with the exact poison that caused it.
Before I can be that stupid, my phone buzzes on the bar. The screen lights up like a warning grenade.
Pres: Church. Ten minutes.
Fantastic. Mason’s timing is always flawless when I’m doing my worst. I groan, push myself off the stool, and nearly eat the floor. My boots feel like they’re full of wet cement. The hangover hits all at once. And under it, the memory of last night slices clean.
Bri’s face. Red eyes. Hurt burning through all that fire. Then her turning away from me like I gave her no reason to stay. I shove that thought deep. Lock it down. I do not have time to deal with feelings. I have damage to control.
Lucky for me, Church is only a stumble away through the back hall. The clubhouse sits behind the bar, connected by a metal door with a keypad. I punch in the code with fingers that barely cooperate and shove my way inside.
Fluorescent lights. Leather cuts. Judging eyes.
Awesome.
I slide into my seat at the table, head pounding like a bad drummer. Riot gives me the look of a man who watched me destroy myself and plans to mock me after. Ghost just nods. Silent. Calculating.
Then Switch.
He stands the second he sees me.
And the room temperature drops twenty degrees.
His voice is low. Deadly. “You called Bri a child.”
I don’t even flinch. “She acted like one.”
A few brothers suck in sharp breaths like they expect Switch to put me through the wall. Honestly? I’d let him.
He steps closer until our chests almost touch. “You yell at my sister-in-law like that again, and I will show you what being a child gets you in this club.”
Mason slams his fist on the table. “Sit down, Switch.”
Switch doesn’t move. He keeps his glare locked on me. I hold it. I am too hungover and too angry to back down. Finally he sits. The warning stays.
Mason stands at the head of the table, palms flat like he’s holding the whole damn club steady.
“The situation in Jackson escalated overnight,” he says, voice level but sharp enough to cut.
“These college assholes? They’re not just wannabes with daddy’s money anymore.
They’re tied to bigger dogs. Organized. Funded. ”
The room goes quiet. No one likes hearing bigger dogs.
He continues, “And they made a move on Bri.”
Everything inside me goes tight. The words hit hard enough to steal breath. I keep my face blank, but my fists curl on instinct under the table.
Mason looks straight at me when he adds, “This isn’t random anymore. They knew where she was. They knew she was connected to us.”
Rev mutters a curse under his breath. Lucky’s jaw ticks. Even Ghost looks pissed, and that man barely reacts to a nuclear bomb.
Mason keeps going. “We tighten up. Shop goes on lockdown. We rotate protection at the houses. No one connected to us gets left alone. Not for a minute. Not until we shut this down.”
My teeth grind as my jaw locks so hard it aches. I don’t say a damn word, because if I open my mouth right now, all that’s coming out is violence.
Riot kicks my boot under the table. Subtle. “You listening, grumpy?”
I barely hear the rest of what Mason says, because the only thought ripping through my head like a goddamn animal is that Bri isn’t at my place right now, she’s out there somewhere I can’t see her, somewhere I can’t get to her fast enough if something goes sideways again, and the idea of her being exposed like that has every instinct I’ve got screaming that I need to move, need to get to her, need to put myself between her and the world before anyone else even thinks about laying a hand on her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Rev.
Rev: She’s safe. Brooke has her.
Rev: She doesn’t want to see you.
My stomach drops clean out of my body.
Mason’s eyes narrow like he already knows what that text says. “You want to keep her, Blade, you better get your shit together. Fast.”
“Keeping her is the last thing I should do,” I mutter, staring at the table like it might have answers. “She’s better off without me. We all know it.”
Switch shoves halfway out of his chair again. “You really want to test me today?”
Ghost clamps a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a low, “Not here.”
Mason doesn’t blink. His stare has broken better men than me. “You protect what you claim. Or you let it go before someone else uses her to bleed you out.”
My vision blurs with fury and fear and something uglier than both. “She thinks she wants this life. She doesn’t. She doesn’t have a clue what it costs.”
Riot mutters, “Maybe let her decide that.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” I growl. “Too old to babysit someone who thinks having a biker boyfriend is just hot sex and parties.”
Ghost raises a brow. “Then stop acting like she’s the problem.”
I shove back from the table, chair scraping loud across the floor. “She is a problem. And I’m the idiot who let my dick decide that was worth the risk.”
Mason stands too. Calm. Controlled. Deadly. “Get your head on straight or get the fuck out of my sight.”
I stare him down. I should sit. I should shut up.
I should cool off. Instead, I shove the door open and slam it behind me, needing air more than pride.
The alley behind Perdition stinks of stale beer and last night’s smoke, and the cold cuts straight through my clothes.
I light up a cigarette with unsteady hands and pull a lungful in, trying to quiet the panic chewing a hole through me.
Bri isn’t at my place. She’s not where I left her.
She’s out there with fucking Rev keeping an eye on her.
Footsteps crunch behind me and Mason shows up like he’s got nothing better to do. He stands there a minute, staring at the pavement like he’s sizing up how stupid I am, like he’s deciding whether to talk or knock me on my ass. He chooses talking. Barely.
“You done throwing your tantrum?” he asks.
I exhale smoke through my nose, jaw clenched. “I’m not throwing shit.”
“You are. And it’s fucking embarrassing.”
I whip my glare at him. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I always know what I’m talking about,” he fires back, eyes ice cold. “Especially when it comes to my club and the men in it.”
My fists flex at my sides. “I told her to stay home. I told her to stay safe. She didn’t listen to me.”
Mason nods slowly. “Yeah. Sometimes people you love get stubborn. Sometimes they make mistakes.”
“That mistake almost got her dragged into a car into the heart of our enemy.”
“And your reaction almost drove her right out of your life.”
I look away, swallowing the punch of that truth.
He isn’t done. “I get being scared. I get wanting to lock down everything that matters. But you can’t stop the world from spinning just because you’re afraid someone will fall.”
“She’s too young,” I bite out. “Too naive. She doesn’t understand this life.”
“So teach her,” Mason says flat. “Don’t try to break her spirit.”
“It’s my job to protect her.”
“It’s your job to respect her,” he corrects. “Or let her go.”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. “Let her go? You want me to give her a clean out? Fine. She’s better off without me anyway.”
Mason steps into my face so fast I barely register the movement. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for her,” he snarls. “You don’t get to use your trauma as an excuse to treat her like disposable property. She isn’t Tessa.”
That name hits like a sledgehammer to the ribs. I freeze. “Don’t fucking go there.”
But Mason does. “Tessa died because someone wanted to hurt us. That wasn’t your fault. And if you keep letting that ghost control you, you’ll lose Bri for real.”
My chest tightens. Rage and grief choke out every logical thought. “I can’t go through that again,” I admit, voice low and wrecked. “I can’t… I can’t bury someone I love.”
Mason’s stare softens by a fraction. Just enough to show he remembers that loss too. “No one is asking you to bury her. We are asking you to stand beside her instead of shoving her behind you like dead weight.” He gives me a long look like he’s torn between empathy and knocking my teeth out.
“Go home,” he orders. “Sleep. Sober up. Then you go to Brooke’s. You apologize to the girl. And you listen. If she still wants you after that, you do better.”
“And if she doesn’t?” I ask, the words cutting on the way out.
“Then you take the hit like a man who finally understands love isn’t something you get to cage.”
I just stare at him, stomach turning with that familiar fear I keep trying to ignore, and all I can get out is, “I’m not ready.
” Mason gives one short nod like that’s all he expected anyway, then tells me to get ready and do it fast before turning and walking back toward the clubhouse, boots hitting the ground with that steady confidence I wish I had right now.
I stay put in the alley, leaning against the cold brick, cigarette burning low between my fingers while I fall apart where nobody has to watch.
The truth sits heavy in my gut, the same one I never say out loud.
I’d rather Bri hate me and stay alive than love me and wind up another name on a headstone like Tessa.
But there’s another truth I can’t shake, the one Mason didn’t bother to spell out…
if Bri really walks away for good, if I push her too far and lose her for real, it’ll be the end of me anyway.