Chapter 4
FOUR
Charlotte
Everything hurts. Every inhale drags like sandpaper through my chest. My ribs ache when I shift. But their silence hurts worse.
They’re all staring at me like I’m some kind of ghost that just spoke. Like they’re still trying to absorb the weight of my words and decide whether they believe me or not.
I almost laugh. Their faces—comically shocked, mouths slightly open, eyes darting between each other like no one knows what to say.
If I had the energy, I’d tell them how ridiculous they look. But even breathing feels like punishment right now, and terror hasn’t left my body yet.
That’s what they wanted, isn’t it?
So I lie here, half propped against the pillow, watching their panic unfold.
Ruin’s the first to move. His voice cracks. “Ryder, return her money. Now.”
Ryder blinks up from his laptop. “Right.”
Wait. My brain stutters. Return it?
“You… you took my money?” My voice is a rasp, barely there, but Ruin hears it. His head snaps toward me.
“You took my money?” I say again, louder this time. “Give it back. Give my money back!”
Ryder’s already typing, voice soft. “Hey, hey—don’t worry, love. I’m getting it back to you. Right now.”
He looks guilty. They all do.
Wolf’s gone quiet, like statue-quiet. His jaw ticks, eyes unfocused. He doesn’t even look at me.
Ruin’s pacing, fingers pressed to his temples like he can physically stop the guilt from bleeding through. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I didn’t—fuck, we didn’t think—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I croak.
He flinches. Actually flinches.
They linger for another minute, exchanging looks that don’t say anything worth a damn.
Wolf clears his throat and nods to the door. “We’ll… uh. We’ll give you some space.”
Of course, they will. They probably need to find a way to undo this.
And just like that, they file out. Ryder trailing last, laptop under his arm, eyes glued to the floor. The door shuts. And I’m left alone with Auntie Deb.
She’s sitting on the edge of the chair, hands clasped together so tight her knuckles are white. Her eyes are shining, her lips trembling. She looks like she’s choking on guilt I don’t understand.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Her head jerks up. “No. Why are you sorry? I’m sorry.”
“No, Auntie Deb—”
“Don’t,” she interrupts, shaking her head, tears spilling freely now.
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I should’ve tried harder, Charlie.
I should’ve questioned why you were hanging out here all the time instead of my house.
You were always there, and one day you weren’t.
” Her voice breaks. “I should’ve protected you, my sweetheart. ”
I want to tell her it’s not her fault. I made my own choices. I wasn’t some helpless kid, just a stupid one. So I say it.
“No. No, it’s not your fault. It was my decision, okay? I should’ve been more careful.” I swallow, throat dry. “Glory… was a mistake.”
Even her name sounds wrong on my tongue. I can’t recall a single moment where she actually gave a shit. My brain wants to. Because what does that make me? A fool?
Deb’s hand covers mine. Warm and slightly shaking. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”
I freeze. Blinking slowly at my hands on my lap.
“Charlotte,” I finally correct her, my voice fraying. Because I’m done. I’m absolutely done with Charlie. She was never who I am. Charlie was Glory’s invention. And I am—and forever will be—Charlotte.
Mama Deb gives me a broken, wet smile, nodding. I can feel her guilt, wrapping around both of us. And it makes me feel undeserving of it.
“It’s not your fault,” I repeat.
She shakes her head, sniffling, brushing at her tears.
There’s this tiny pause, one heartbeat of silence and the words slip out before I can stop them. “Mama Deb.”
Her whole face changes, like she’s just been hit with something.
She probably has been. I haven’t called her that in so long.
Not since I started hanging out with Glory.
I used to call her Mama Deb when I arrived at the clubhouse at fourteen.
Almost all the younger people called her that, so I started to as well.
Not knowing she was probably the first real mother I had gained—and then lost.
“Oh, God,” she breathes, laughing and crying all at once. “I haven’t heard that in so long. I missed it. I missed you.” Her hand squeezes mine tighter.
Finally, she wipes her face and stands. “I’ll be back,” she says, her tone fierce even through the tremble. “Stay here. Heal. And I’ll get these men to behave themselves.”
I smile faintly. “Okay.”
She kisses my temple softly and heads for the door. When it clicks shut, I exhale and close my eyes.
Everything still hurts, but somehow, it’s the first time in years this kind of pain isn’t the only thing I feel. It’s more than that. I find myself planning, revising my life in my head. Understanding I am currently living a life that doesn’t necessarily fit me.
I feel determined. What a foreign feeling.
I didn’t even know the plans I had concocted in those stupid little daydreams could be real.
But now, they will be.