Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Charlotte
“Has he woken up?”
I hear Ruin’s voice as I reach the threshold.
It wasn’t my intention to walk over to Wolf’s house. The same house I lived in for a few years after I first moved to the club.
But I’ve realized avoidance isn’t getting me anywhere.
The rage and disappointment I felt when Dane walked out of that cell has had nowhere to go except my gut. And it’s becoming increasingly toxic sitting there.
Especially when I still don’t understand why he never helped me. Why did he let the order to beat me go through?
After talking to Mama this morning, I was forced to confront the glaring question I’ve spent two years avoiding.
Was my brother as lost as I was?
Sure, I didn’t make decisions that led to someone being hurt so immeasurably. But I also wasn’t my best self when I was trapped in Glory’s clutches.
When did Savage finally loosen his grip on Wolf?
When I was about to give up on ever having the courage to ask those questions, I saw it. A box. Tucked on the second shelf of the TV console. The box. The one I used to shove the letters into without even looking at them. Wolf’s letters—sent every week since I left this club over two years ago.
I had no intention of opening the damn thing. In fact, I’d spent a solid minute cursing Ruin for bringing it here in the first place.
But the pressure in my chest wouldn’t ease. Because suddenly, it wasn’t just a box filled with letters that appeared at my doorstep week after week.
They were words from someone I had seen bleeding.
A real human being who hesitated, hurt, cried, and kept showing up anyway.
Someone who still called himself my brother.
Someone who never hid the devastation on his face when I glared at his attempts—so many attempts—to talk to me.
Someone whose relief was painfully obvious every time he realized I was okay.
The letters suddenly had a person behind them.
I hated that I even had a reaction to them.
Which is probably why I ended up sitting cross-legged on the carpet of my club apartment.
Terrified.
My hands trembled as I reached into the box, digging to the bottom of the massive pile until I found the very first letter he’d ever written.
The paper was creased and worn when I took it out of the envelope.
Seeing the first words made tears immediately rise behind my eyes. By the time I finished reading the short—yet utterly devastating—letter… I was sobbing.
Not the quiet kind either.
The kind that tears out of your chest.
The kind where you can barely pull in a full breath.
Selfish.
Misguided.
Bastard of a brother.
I’m no fucking brother to you.
I know that.
Neglectful.
Thoughtless Arrogant.
I’m a danger to you, aren’t I?
Protector… what bullshit.
I’m unsafe.
I’m rotten.
Savage.
Fuck. I’m my father. At least he was a decent president.
I’m not even that.
Even writing this shit down feels like another burden I’m dumping on you. What the hell are you supposed to do with it?
Will you even read the words of a monster who’s nothing but a self-hating bastard now?
Selfish. Every word here is selfish, Charlotte. Just another selfish attempt.
I may be a man in age, but inside I’m still that resentful seventeen-year-old who couldn’t welcome his own damn sister into his life. I never gave us a chance because our father didn’t.
Fuck. Now I’m blaming him when he’s nothing but a drooling asshole sitting downstairs in a wheelchair that can’t move without help.
I’m the one to blame.
I followed the club bylaws when I could’ve broken them for you.
Why didn’t I break them for you?
Adding another word, Charlotte.
Coward.
That’s your brother. A coward. Hell—I’m not even your brother, am I?
Shit. I hope you never read this. Because there’s no explanation here. No excuse. No trait to blame.
I’m the rot that let you down.
All me. Not our father. Not stupidity. Not some excuse about being young and angry and too damn proud
Just me.
But there’s one thing I do want you to know.
I’ll learn to be better. I’ll become the brother I never was.
You deserve that.
I don’t deserve you, but I swear it anyway.
I’ll be that brother.
Even if it’s from a distance. Even if the only thing you ever allow me to be is someone who makes sure you’re safe from far away.
I’ll be that person.
I’ll become him.
Please.
- Dane
Selfish.
The word hasn’t wrenched itself out of my brain yet. Selfish.
Yes, you are, Wolf.
Which is why I’m here, frozen near the half-open door of his home office. Hands clutching the damn letter, my whole frame vibrating with pure rage.
Ryder is silently standing behind me. Just like he silently followed me when I dazedly left the compound.
He’d seen something in my eyes that made him not question why I was heading out in the middle of an active war. When we’d learned that a former ally was decimated less than twenty-four hours ago.
“Not yet. Healer is adamant about not wasting medical resources on a fucking intruder,” Wolf grits out. “I get it, okay? But it’s more important now to keep the asshole alive and pry some names out of him.”
“You think he’ll tell us the names of the traitors? Really, Wolf?” Ruin retorts incredulously. “You think the runt of Hell’s Army who was sent to shoot up our club as a distraction… would have any names for us?”
Wolf sighs. “I don’t know, Ruin. But what other choice do we have? What—we wait until they fucking destroy our club from the inside?”
Ruin groans.
“Fine,” Wolf relents. “I’ll tell Healer to unplug the bastard.”
When the silence drags on, I find my opening.
Using my fist, I deliberately pound on the already open door. The loud thud sends both of them shooting up from their chairs, guns in hand.
Ryder isn’t quick enough to stop me, so he walks in behind me, muttering curses under his breath.
Wolf and Ruin both relax a fraction when they see it’s me. It doesn’t last.
Not once they take in the relentless glare I’m throwing at Wolf.
“This!” I snap, holding up the piece of paper that ruined my entire damn evening. “What the hell is this?”
“Charl—”
“I’ll do my first and only duty as your sister,” I seethe, cutting off Wolf’s startled protest. “And buy you a journal so you can use that instead of word-vomiting in your fucking letters to me!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ruin take a slow, cautious step back. Away from whatever menacing energy is currently rolling off me.
Then I petulantly slap the letter on his desk with a loud thump. It almost makes me flinch.
I’m fresh out of an emotional meltdown, so I’ll let myself be embarrassed later. The only thing ruling my actions is the rage I feel at the audacity of this man.
The selfishness. Self-hatred. Self… fuckery that he possesses.
Is this what was waiting for me all those times he’d pleaded to talk to me? When he’d hesitantly approach me—every single day—with an awkward, quiet ‘Charlotte’?
I’m surprisingly glad I’d sent him packing.
His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of the pond. Unable to voice whatever he might want to respond with.
Then he gingerly takes the letter from his desk. The moment his eyes land on the words written by him, his whole face goes red. His throat bobs on a hard swallow.
I manage to voice my burning question, almost spitting the words out. “Is this supposed to fix anything, Wolf?!”
Silence. Again.
Irritation boils over. My hands clench at my sides. “Say something, you robot!” I snap harshly. “Is silence your only thing?!”
That finally makes his eyes flash with more than guilt or pain. It mirrors what I’m feeling, and I hate that his eyes look so similar to mine right now.
He bends sideways, yanking his drawer open angrily. Then he fishes something out and drops it on the desk between us.
I stare at it, my expression sobering. Blanking almost. Then I stare some more because—What the fuck?
I ignore Ruin when he takes another massive step back, almost coming up beside Ryder.
My gaze is locked to the letter I wrote before disappearing from their lives. The words glaring at me as though written by someone I don’t recognize anymore.
‘Wolf, I’m sorry for being less of a sister and more of a problem you had to manage.’
God. I was never a problem or a burden. There was rarely a time when Wolf had to manage or fix the fuck-ups that I created under Glory’s influence.
‘I know I made things harder for you when you were already trying to lead the club.’
I cringe at the naive Charlotte who wrote this. The one who blamed herself for the consequences when it wasn’t hers to carry.
It’s now my turn to flush red with embarrassment.
“You’re not the Charlotte who wrote that anymore.”
I flinch at Wolf’s low rumble.
“Over two years ago.” He sighs, setting both his hands on his desk. “And I’m not the same person who wrote that letter either.”
There’s an edge to his voice I can’t understand. But his words still land like a blow to my chest.
Because they ring true, Charlotte.
Gah! Fuck.
“T-That doesn’t mean…” I say uselessly. All the righteous fury I came in here with is draining out of me every second.
“Listen, I…” he starts, but then pinches the bridge of his nose. Almost in exasperation.
Suddenly, a horrifying realization dawns on me—I barged in here uninvited. Probably interrupting something incredibly important.
I nervously look around, expecting Ruin and Ryder to shake their heads at my childish behavior. But they stay silent, looking between Wolf and me intently.
“Shit, I… I’ll go. You have more important th—”
“Christ, Charlotte,” Wolf groans. “I’ve been trying to talk to you—properly talk—for weeks now. And yeah, you comin’ in just now put me on the spot but… God. Give the man a second, will ya?”
He paces a few steps away from his desk, then comes back to the exact same spot, stiff as a board. His gaze slowly turns wretched, and I find myself bracing for whatever he’ll say next.
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he croaks.
“Keep my damn club standing—all while the fucking Romanian mafia has me on speed dial.” His voice pitches higher.
“T-The love of my fucking l-life has either been dead or dying for the last seven years—and I didn’t even know! So please just… give me a second.”
For all the volume in the middle of his rant, he still ends it on a feeble, defeated whisper.
Love of his life. Leila?
“Charlotte, I… I’ll show you the brother that I am now, okay? I promise.” His gaze turns pleading. “But I can’t do that when—if—one or both of us are six feet under.”
A tense silence settles over the room.
I know what he’s saying. I understand it completely. But the anger I’ve been carrying still sits heavy in my chest, forced to settle again—deep and aching.
I nod slowly, my head pounding with words I never voiced. Words that suddenly feel painfully petulant for a moment like this. Not because they’re selfish, but because they gloss over the very real danger we’re in.
I jump when Ryder’s low mutter reaches me.
Jesus. I forgot they were still here.
“That’s the most complete sentences I’ve heard him string together in a damn year.”
Wolf immediately looks over my shoulder and snaps, “You both. Out!”
“Aaand we’re back,” I hear Ruin say dryly, followed by the rustle of their boots as they file out of the office.
After another stretch of silence, Wolf gestures toward the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
I do.
He lowers himself into his own chair a moment later, clasping his hands together on the desk like he needs something to anchor them.
Just so my own hands aren’t hanging uselessly in my lap, I pick up the two letters lying on the desk. His letter is wrinkled from the way I stormed in here earlier, so I press both of them flat against the surface, smoothing the creases out with slow strokes.
A quiet chuckle pulls my attention up. Wolf is watching me. The smile on his face is soft, but there’s something sad sitting behind it.
“I want to tell you that I’m your brother first,” he says. “And I am.” His fingers tighten together slightly. “But for a while, I need to make sure we all come out of this mess alive.”
My face almost crumples. “Of course I know that,” I say quickly. “I just—everything feels like…” I struggle for the word. “A dead end.”
“Hey.” His voice softens.
I look up.
“It’s not.” He leans forward a little. “I’m doing everything in my power, Charlotte. Everything to make sure this—make sure you—don’t get hurt.” His jaw tightens slightly. “I know you don’t believe that I care—”
“I kind of do.” The words slip out before I can second-guess them.
Wolf stills.
“Not because you gave me a trust fund,” I add quickly. “Or that house. Those feel like guilt gifts. But, because I see the change. A little bit, I guess.”
His shoulders ease at that. Then he shakes his head slowly. “You’d see a lot more if I wasn’t—” He exhales through his nose. “If the circumstances were better.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and it fades as quickly as it came.
“Also,” he adds quietly, “the trust fund and the house weren’t because I felt guilty.”
I frown slightly.
“They’re yours because they’re mine,” he says simply. “And you, Charlotte—no matter what Savage might’ve thought—are my family.”
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words sit heavy in my chest. So I just nod. Even if I don’t feel the truth of his words.
Then, almost reluctantly, a small smile tugs at my mouth. “You’ve become a decent Prez.”
For some reason, his face falls at that. The smile disappears like I just said something wrong. Then he looks down at his clasped hands.
Quietly, almost to himself, he murmurs, “I’ll become a good brother too. One day.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Just need to keep us alive first.”