Chapter 10
TEN
Ruin
There’s a shift taking over Wolf’s face.
He’s been mainly silent this whole time, probably trying to process the clusterfuck this new information entails.
I can see something akin to determination wash over him.
And it’s not entirely the Prez in him that takes over his next words.
I can feel the brotherly terror radiate from him.
“Alright,” he says, voice steady. “First, we keep all this to ourselves. I’ve got a feeling Glory wasn’t our only traitor. Don’t tell a soul, not even the officers.”
My lips part at his commanding tone.
He turns to Ryder, his gaze belying his calmness. “I know you’re close with Healer and Scar, but we gotta keep this on a lockdown. Got it?”
Ryder’s face shows the same respect he bestows on my father. Torch has held a higher respect in his mind, but something has shifted in Wolf. And neither of us can ignore it.
“Yes, Prez,” he says, nodding once.
Wolf sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Tomorrow, we get her back to Wardens—if she agrees. If not, both of you will be stationed here for the foreseeable future until I can… Fuck, I’ll get Nomads and Reapers on our side.
Hell’s Army is the only reason we’ve been allied, so we better fucking use it. ”
I nod. It makes sense. We definitely can’t handle that club alone. They’re one of the largest clubs on this side of the country. And it’s not just that. Yeah, we’re all involved in illegal shit, but there are rumors about their involvement with the fucking Romanian Mafia.
Wolf turns back to his Sergeant-at-Arms again.
“Find the bitch. Track her. Get confirmation that it’s actually Hell’s Army.
I don’t care if you need to get the blues involved, I’ll cover for you.
” He squeezes his eyes shut. “There’s… something I recently figured out, I’m not sure.
I gotta talk to Charlotte first, but it might connect more dots. ”
“What is it about?” Ryder asks.
“No, I’ll talk to her first.” Wolf shakes his head, then straightens up. “I’ll head back to Whiterun. You stay here. Try to get her back… home.”
Before he turns to leave, he points a firm finger at both of us. “Do not force her. Let her decide. We’ll protect her no matter what. Understood?”
We both straighten our spines, the authority in his voice is unmistakable. I haven’t seen him like this since Charlotte left. I feel weirdly proud.
“We got this, Prez,” I say, slapping a firm hand on his shoulder.
He gives us both a swift, stiff nod and leaves. Ryder locks the door behind him and stares at me with so many questions in his gaze.
Neither of us have any answers. Not yet. But I know we’ll fucking find them.
??????
I jolt awake at a sharp, sudden pain slicing through my shin. The fuck—
My eyes snap open just in time to see Charlotte standing over me, bunny ears perched on her headband. She looks so fucking adorable. The contrast is almost enough to make me grin, but I catch her glare.
Yeah. Not smiling. Obviously not.
Ryder snorts from somewhere in the room, smug as hell.
“Get up,” she bites out. Cold and clipped.
I drag myself up without protest, stretching stiff muscles. The makeshift duvet bed on the carpet was not a good idea. My back cracks in three places.
The clock reads 12:46 p.m. We slept for five hours, give or take. Should be enough.
Dragging my ass to the kitchen, I find Ryder cooking eggs like we’re three friends having brunch on a Sunday morning. Charlotte hops onto the island stool, lazily popping grapes like she didn’t just assault my poor shin.
“You good with omelette?” Ryder mumbles, sleep still in his voice.
I nod and sit next to her. She shifts away slightly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“How…” My voice comes out rusty, so I clear it. “How do you feel about heading back to the clubhouse? Just for now.”
She scoffs and shoves three grapes into her mouth. Then levels a look at me, hard to read, but it settles like a damn boulder in my chest. I’ve never witnessed this look before.
“We already talked about it, fucker,” Ryder says. “She’s coming with us. Until we handle Glory. And whoever else is gunning for her.”
She swallows and glares at me. “And I’m guessing you won’t tell me which club it is that’s allied with her, either, huh?”
I hesitate. Because Ryder didn’t tell her, I’m sure. And maybe there is a reason. One—we’re not one hundred percent sure yet. Two—that name, Hell’s Army MC. It’s got a reputation. A legacy soaked in blood. And if Charlotte hears it? She’ll know exactly what that means.
I try to smirk. Try to play it cool. Try not to reach out and brush the hair away from her temple like a fucking idiot who still thinks he deserves that right. “We’ll tell you when we’re sure, sweetheart.” The second that word leaves my mouth, I regret it.
Her eyes narrow. Her jaw clenches. And she slides off the stool like she’s about to light my ass on fire. “Don’t ever call me that,” she snaps, whipping her phone out of her pajama pocket. “I’m calling my bar manager. Gotta make sure someone’s covering for me.”
Ryder hums in response while she disappears into her bedroom.
I sit there. Useless.
God, it’s been almost two years since I’ve been this close to her. She still doesn’t know half the shit I’ve done while watching over her. Half the guilt I’ve been drowning in since I made that horrible decision. She doesn’t care, and she shouldn’t. It’s not her burden.
The guilt I’d thought was fading in the last two years is coming crashing back. And I feel helpless in the wake of it.
“Christ. Get your shit together, Ruin,” Ryder mutters.
I shoot him a glare. “I have it together, asshole.”
He barks a laugh and plates the omelette. “You’ve got a little something…” He gestures to the corner of his mouth.
I flip him off and dig into the food. But yeah, maybe I was drooling. Over her, like a fool.
Two hours later—we’re fed, packed, and nearing the gates of our clubhouse in Whiterun. And I’m still seething.
She clung to Ryder’s back on the way over. Not me. No hesitation. No second glance.
I fucking tried to make her choose to ride at the back of my bike. But damn if it didn’t gut me when she picked him. Without him even having to ask.
Inside, the clubhouse is buzzing. Midday meal, full house. Brothers, Ol’ Ladies, prospects, the usual noise of a Sunday at base.
But the club girls? Nowhere to be seen. All Wolf’s doing. Had to be. After what happened with Trixie and Juggles, we agreed. Our ways had to change drastically since that night we made the worst decisions.
We hadn’t necessarily planned on getting rid of the two of them. Not really. But a few weeks later, we started hearing shit we didn’t condone. Things that were as disrespectful as they were untrue.
As hard as we tried to clear shit up after everything happened, I think some people in the club might still believe that Charlotte was also serving a sentence—just like Glory.
Guess, we’ll see.
Wolf walks toward us, posture straight, eyes heavy. His gaze catches Charlotte with a cautious, quiet sort of respect.
When I glance at her, there’s no fear. No flinch. No nervousness. She’s taking it all in, observing, analyzing. Calm as hell.
I almost smile. Then—
A voice from the back cracks through the air.
“What the fuck?!”
The room stills. Chatter dies down in an instant.
“What’s she doing here, Prez? We’re letting in traitors now?!”
Spike. He’s a newly patched brother. Loud, dumb, and uninformed, apparently.
And just like that—
All hell breaks loose.