Chapter Twelve
Olivia
The men have been holed up in church for hours, and without my mobile phone to occupy me, I’ve turned my attention to the rota Birdy and Poodle have worked on.
They’re watching me with bated breath as I look it over, and when I nod in approval, they relax.
“It’s missing a couple people, though,” I say, and Poodle frowns, taking it back and scanning it.
“I literally have everyone,” she says, her brow furrowed.
“Me and Bria.”
She looks up. “You’re the Pres’s old lady,” she says with an amused expression like my words are absurd.
“We all have to pull our weight,” I say, taking the rota back and adding my name down for two nights of cooking.
“Bria is a terrible cook, but she won’t mind cleanup,” I say, adding her in for dishes and bin duties.
“I’ll also help with other things when I’m not at work.
” They exchange a confused look. “What?” I ask.
“You work?”
I laugh. “Yeah. Well, when the club isn’t locked down, that is. Good job I have an understanding boss.”
“And Bully doesn’t mind?” asks Birdy.
I slide into a seat beside Poodle. “Maybe. He hasn’t mentioned it. But I’m not relying on the club to support me if things go wrong.”
“What would go wrong?” asks Poodle.
I shrug. “If Bully and I don’t work out.”
“But he claimed you,” says Birdy, giving an unsure laugh. “Don’t you have to make it work?”
“We’ve had our issues,” I say. “Most of which involve this club. And while I know this life is . . . different, I refuse to put my heart and soul into it and let my old life go.”
Poodle gives a sympathetic smile. “You’re worried he’ll end up in prison again?”
I look away, scared she’s seeing far more than I mean her to. “Anyway, get this rota up, and if anyone is slacking, let me know and I’ll sort it.”
Birdy smiles. “You’re alright,” she says, and I return her smile.
“Not as bad as some are saying, right?”
The door opens and Bully fills it. Just by the look on his face, I can see he’s still moody.
The other two leave without a word, probably sensing the dark cloud that hangs over him.
I follow him with my eyes as he goes to the coffee pot and fills a mug, then he turns to leave.
I roll my eyes in irritation just as Bria enters, passing him and joining me at the table.
“You okay?” she asks.
I shrug. “He’s ignoring me.”
“Enjoy the peace,” she says with a grin. “What happened?”
“Darren, or Dagger, texted me. Somehow, that’s my fault.”
She gives a giggle. “Oooh, conversing with the enemy.”
I smirk. “It’s not funny.”
“What’s Bully so worried about? You’re locked-up here. It’s not like you can run away with the other big, bad biker.”
“It’s the disrespect he’s pissed about.”
She scoffs. “Rude. Is he saying Dagger doesn’t like you and he’s just using you to get to him?” I nod. “Or maybe he just thought you were fit.”
I laugh, pushing to stand. “Whatever you do, don’t say that to Bully. He’ll blow a gasket.”
I find him in his office, talking to Poison. She gives me a smug smile the second she sees me, and just like that, my hackles rise.
Bully looks stressed. And tired. There’s a line between his brows that wasn’t there yesterday, and guilt punches me in the gut. I’m part of what’s weighing him down.
“I’m happy for you to sort it,” he tells Poison, then looks at me. “Poison said you okayed a rota.” I narrow my eyes, already feeling heat rise in my chest. “It’s not going to work,” he adds.
“Thanks, Pres,” Poison purrs, smiling like she’s just won something before swaying out the door.
I step into the room, closing the distance. “Why not? Why overrule it without talking to me?”
He exhales, long and tired, like the world’s on his back and I’ve just added another stone. “Because I don’t care, Liv. I don’t have time for drama over who’s wiping the damn table or emptying the bin.”
“All the girls were fine with it except her. Poison’s just a lazy cow.” Misty taps my foot with her paw, and I crouch down to give her a quick stroke.
He arches a brow. “Name-calling? Seriously?”
“I was trying to help,” I snap. “Trying to take some of the pressure off you.”
He rubs his brow, jaw clenched like he's holding back a full eruption. “Just leave the club shit to me, yeah?”
I stand, and Misty totters off to Bully, lying by his chair. His words sting more than they should. “Then what exactly is my role, Bully?” I challenge.
He looks at me, guarded and worn out. “To look after me, Liv.” His voice drops. “If you can manage that in between flirting with Dagger.”
I feel like he’s given me a blow to the chest, and I stagger back a step. “Fuck you, Bully.”
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me cold. “Whizz is digging, Liv. If there’s anything you need to tell me, now’s the time.”
I spin around slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears. “Like what?” His eyes meet mine, pleading, searching. He doesn’t say it outright, but I know what he’s asking. “You think I’m feeding the Scorpions?” My voice is a low growl, sharp with betrayal.
He doesn’t blink. “Are you?” I stare at him, stunned. “Are you?” he repeats.
My jaw tightens, breath catching like something sharp in my throat.
“Wow.” My voice is soft, bitter. “After everything, that’s what you think of me?
” He doesn’t answer, doesn’t deny it. Just watches me with those tired, guarded eyes like he’s waiting for me to prove him right.
My heart cracks a little then crumbles completely. “You don’t trust me,” I whisper.
He looks away. That’s all the answer I need.
“Five years, Bully. Five long fucking years I’ve waited.
And you know . . .” I hiss, stepping closer and pointing my finger at him.
“You know I haven’t cheated because you had someone watching me.
” I scoff, shaking my head in anger. “You asked me to stay, made me think this could all be worth it, and the second shit gets hard, you turn on me like I’m some random bitch off the street.
” I step closer, my fury burning over. “I have told you everything that happened with Dagger. Everything. You saw us on the CCTV, so you know I never left with him, kissed him, or even flirted. I have never crossed the line. I have never cheated on you. Never given reason for you to think otherwise, and still, you think I’d sell you out? ”
His jaw ticks, but he stays silent. “I was trying to help by putting the rota in because the girls are sick of Poison slacking. I didn’t want them to turn to you because you’re already under so much pressure.
And the second my back is turned, she comes crying to you and you overrule me.
How the hell are they ever gonna take me seriously if you can’t?
And how will anyone in this club trust me if my own old man doesn’t? ”
I take a steadying breath. “Yah know what it tells women like Poison when you do shit like that? That we’re not a team.
That you don’t support me. It shows her the cracks she’s waiting for to claw her way between us.
” I head for the door. “I’m done begging for a seat at your table, Bully. I don’t fit here.”
I storm out before the emotion spills its way out of me completely. If I stay, I’ll break, and I’m tired of breaking for someone who doesn’t see me.
Bully
The door slams, and the silence that follows is louder than her shouting.
I sit back in my chair, heart pounding like I just went a round in the cage. Only this feels worse. There’s no blood to mop up, no crowd to drown it out. Just me and the echo of her voice still ringing in my ears. “You don’t trust me.”
She’s right.
And, fuck, I hate that because it means he’s winning. Dagger is coming between us, causing doubt. Doing what he set out to do.
I rub my hands over my face, dragging them down like it’ll take the weight with them.
It doesn’t. I feel heavier, like I’m carrying guilt I can’t name and regret I’m too damn proud to admit.
I replay her words, every one of them sharper than the last. “We’re not a team .
. . I’m done begging for a place at your table . . .”
Goddamn it.
I wanted to protect her, to keep her out of all this. But somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing her and started seeing a liability. Another threat I couldn’t control. Liv’s never been the weak spot—I am. Because she matters . . . too fucking much.
The worst part? I saw the hurt before she even spoke and I still let it happen. I still accused her.
I slam my fist on the desk. The sound echoes, but it’s not enough. Nothing is.
Whizz is digging into the Scorpions, and the closer we get to the truth, the more twisted it all feels. Liv might’ve been the one caught in the crossfire, but I’m the one who lit the fuse. And if I lose her? That might be the one price I can’t afford.
The office door opens, and Whizz stands there with a grim expression, laptop balanced in one hand and his mobile in the other.
“We got some information on Dagger’s wife.
” I frown as he enters, placing the computer on my desk.
“She’s dead. Suspected suicide,” he side-eyes me, “which fits with our grief theory. But I also traced a few payments around the time of her death, and it looks suspicious.” He turns the laptop to me.
“Her name was Lila Carson.” The room stills, and my lungs stop working.
Lila. Her picture stares back at me, filling the screen and mocking me.
I can almost hear her laughter ring out.
“You alright, Pres?” he asks.
I force a nod. “Call church,” I mutter. “I’ll be right there.” I need a moment to compose myself.
Ten minutes later, I head in to find everyone seated. Lila’s image is on the big screen, and I avoid looking at it as I turn to Whizz. “Get it off screen,” I mutter.
“But, Pres, I—”
“Get it down,” I yell, slamming the gavel down as he rushes to click off the image. “Go over what you know so far,” I add, bracing my hands on the edge of the table and lowering my head.