Chapter Thirty-Nine
THE MORNING WAS still, wrapped in that soft, golden quiet that only ever came just after sunrise.
Dew clung to the grass like the world hadn’t quite decided to wake yet, and the air carried the sharp tang of salt mixed with oil and metal from bikes warming somewhere behind the clubhouse.
The sound was distant, familiar, comforting.
Too comforting.
I’d told Chain I wanted to walk by the water. Another lie. Said I needed to clear my head, let the noise settle. He hadn’t questioned it. Just kissed the top of my hair, slow and gentle, and told me not to wander far like he always did.
I promised I wouldn’t without meeting his eyes, too afraid he’d see the guilt that was eating at me.
My boots sank into the damp ground as I followed the narrow path through the trees toward the spot he’d named, each step heavier than the last. The earth felt soft and unsure beneath me, like it knew something I didn’t. Like it was trying to warn me I was already walking into trouble.
I didn’t know what I was about to find.
Only that I had to see him again.
The trees thinned as I reached the edge of the property, branches loosening their grip until the woods finally let go. Morning light spilled through the gaps, pale and quiet, catching on dew-dark grass and low brush. The air felt too still, like the world was holding its breath.
For a brief, foolish moment, I almost believed I’d imagined everything. The voice. The face. The impossible return.
Grief did strange things to memory.
Then a voice behind me said softly, “Lark.”
The air left my chest.
I turned, heart stuttering, and there he was.
Zach stepped out from between the trees like he’d always belonged there, like time hadn’t passed at all.
Morning light caught his face, and I saw the ways he’d changed.
He was leaner now, worn down in places that hadn’t existed in the boy I remembered.
There were lines around his eyes, shadows beneath them.
But it was still him.
Those deep brown eyes that had once been my whole world. That crooked, uneven smile that used to make the walls feel farther away, the rules feel thinner.
“You came,” he said quietly, like he hadn’t been sure I would.
“Of course I did.” My voice shook, emotion pressing hard against my ribs. “I didn’t sleep last night. I kept seeing your face, thinking I was losing my mind.”
He smiled then. Not wide. Not easy. Just real. “You’re not. I’m here.”
I took a step closer before I could stop myself, my body remembering him faster than my thoughts could catch up. I searched his face, cataloging every change, every familiar line.
“I thought you were dead, Zach,” I said. “I grieved you. I buried you in my heart. I—” My throat closed. “Why didn’t you send word?”
His eyes softened, pain flickering there like an old bruise. “They didn’t give me a choice, Lark. You know how it was. They said I was unworthy. Sent me to work for the prophet.” His voice dropped. “I couldn’t reach you. If I’d had a way… I would’ve crawled through fire to get back.”
Tears burned hot behind my eyes. For years, I’d told myself I’d made peace with losing him. That I’d learned to live around the hole he left behind.
Peace, it turned out, had been a lie.
“Why now?” I asked. “Why risk finding me?”
His expression shifted, fear tightening his features.
“They’re rebuilding The Children of the Flame.
” The words scraped against old scars. “A new Shepherd took the Circle. He’s sending people out.
Looking for the ones who left. Me. You. Sable and her kids.
” His jaw clenched. “He won’t stop until we’re all back. Or dead.”
Cold slid down my spine, sharp and fast. “How do you know that?”
“Because they found me first,” he said, voice breaking. “I escaped. But others didn’t.” He dragged a hand down his face, breath coming rough. “I came to warn you.”
The trees swayed quietly beside us, indifferent to everything he’d just said. For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. Gratitude and guilt tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Zach,” I whispered. “I’m glad you’re alive. I can’t tell you how much.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the salt on his skin, the sweat beneath it. Familiar. Comforting. Dangerous.
“Then promise me you’ll be careful,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone I came. The people you’re with—they’d mean well, but it’s too dangerous.” His gaze locked onto mine. “Promise me, Lark.”
My stomach twisted.
Chain’s face flashed in my mind. The way his arms had wrapped around me last night. The quiet intensity in his eyes when he held me close, like he was already bracing for something he couldn’t name.
“Promise me,” Zach repeated, stepping closer. “They’re watching. The man they call Shepherd now, he knows about the clubhouse. About the people who helped free you.”
The blood drained from my face.
Chain would be killed.
If Zach was right, if the cult was rebuilding, if they were watching… telling Chain could put him straight in their path.
“I promise,” I said softly.
Zach reached up, his thumb brushing away one of my tears. “You always kept your word,” he said, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. “I’ll find you again soon. Just… stay safe.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, achingly familiar, and then he stepped back. One moment he was there. The next, he was gone, swallowed by the trees like he’d never existed at all.
I stood there long after he disappeared, the wind lifting strands of my hair, my heart too full and too heavy all at once.
He was alive.
Zach was alive.
Just like I’d always dreamed.
And all I could think about was Chain—and how much it already hurt to be keeping a secret from him.
***
I WAS ALREADY tired when the dinner rush hit. Not the kind sleep fixes. The kind that settles in your bones and makes everything feel a step out of sync.
I worked anyway.
Tray steady. Smile practiced. Movements automatic. I laughed when I needed to, nodded when spoken to, let my body do what it knew how to do while my thoughts pulled hard in opposite directions.
Every time my eyes drifted toward the office, my stomach tightened.
Chain was in his office tonight, the door shut. Close enough that I could feel him there… far enough that it didn’t matter. I’d kissed him before my shift like nothing was wrong, like I wasn’t already carrying something I didn’t know how to set down.
Now I couldn’t stop wondering if he’d looked at me the way I’d looked at him in that moment. Searching. Measuring. Trying to decide if the truth was hiding just under the surface.
“Hey, Lark.”
Ruby’s voice cut through the noise. “You okay, honey? You’ve dropped that towel twice.”
I blinked, realizing she was right. The towel lay at my feet, forgotten.
“Long night,” I said quickly, forcing a smile I didn’t quite feel.
Ruby frowned, concern creasing her face, but she didn’t press. She was good like that. Gave space when someone needed it.
She hesitated, then reached into her pocket. “Hey… a man gave me this earlier. Made me promise I’d give it to you when you were alone.”
My chest tightened.
I took the folded note, my first instinct to look for Chain out of habit alone. The office door was shut. The hallway empty.
I unfolded it.
Meet me tomorrow evening at the Day’s Inn a block over. Remember—don’t tell anyone. Z.
The words blurred for a second before snapping back into focus.
I folded the note carefully and slid it into my pocket, my hands shaking just enough that I had to clench them into fists. Torn didn’t even begin to cover it.
Ruby touched my arm. “You need a break, take one. I’ll cover your tables.”
“Thanks,” I murmured.
I slipped out the back door, the night air hitting my skin like relief. The sounds of the bar dulled behind me, replaced by the distant roar of cars on the highway and the low buzz of the city settling into night.
I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes.
Zach’s voice echoed in my head.
They’re rebuilding, Lark. A new Shepherd has taken the Circle.
It sounded impossible. Unreal. Like a nightmare I’d dragged into the daylight with me. But the look in his eyes that morning—haunted, urgent, fierce—had been real. And I’d promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone.
Not even Chain.
The guilt burned hotter than the night air.
Because Chain trusted me. He didn’t hand that out easily.
He believed in loyalty the way other people believed in religion—absolute, unyielding.
He fought for what he loved, and when he chose, he chose all the way.
And suddenly I realized something that scared me more than Zach’s warning.
The pull I felt toward Zach wasn’t the same anymore.
What I felt for Zach lived in my head, old instincts, old wounds, a love shaped by fear.
What I felt for Chain lived in my body. In the way my chest tightened when he walked away. In the way the world calmed when he touched me. That kind of feeling didn’t let you hide.
And here I was, smiling in his bar, sleeping in his bed, lying to him with every breath. I looked down at my hands, the faint scars across my palms catching the light. A reminder of what blind faith had once cost me. Of what trusting the wrong people could do.
A sound behind me made me jump.
The alley was mostly empty—dumpsters, shadows, the flicker of the security light—but near the far corner, just beyond the glow, a shape lingered. Still. Watching.
My breath caught.
For a heartbeat, I thought it might be Zach again.
Then I blinked, and the space was empty.
Gone.
“Get a grip,” I whispered to myself, forcing a shaky laugh that didn’t fool me.
I turned back toward the door and nearly collided with Ruby.
“Jesus,” I said, hand flying to my chest. “You scared me.”
“You’ve been out here a while,” she said gently. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “The fresh air helped.”
She studied me for a beat, then nodded like she didn’t quite believe it but would let it go. “Come on, sweetheart. Place is slammin’.”
I followed her inside, letting the noise close around me. The warmth. The lights. The safety of pretending everything was still normal.
But the feeling of eyes on me didn’t fade.
And deep down, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination.
Maybe I should talk to Chain. Tell him the truth. This lying wasn’t sitting right with me anymore. I cared about Zach—always would—but something in me whispered that he was wrong about the club not being able to protect us.
The problem was… once I told Chain, nothing would stay the same. And I wasn’t sure which terrified me more, keeping the secret, or finally letting it out.