Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Brisket pressed his warm weight against me on the sofa as if he could sense my racing thoughts. My throat still ached where Tyler’s fingers had dug in.
Eva handed me a steaming-hot porcelain mug. I sipped the coffee and let the hot bitterness anchor me.
“What did Tyler do?” I rasped, brushing my hand across the spot on my neck that still pulsed with pain. “What would make him crazy enough to hold a gun to my head?”
Eva sank into the armchair across from me. “I don’t know much, other than Tyler was caught meeting with an FBI agent.”
“What kind of information could he have that is worth my life?”
She shrugged. “Listen, there’s a lot even I don’t know. For good reason. Women are kept separate from club business to protect us.”
I scoffed. “To protect? Or to control?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Eva rolled her eyes. I’d promised a long time ago to stop bickering with her over the motorcycle club’s patriarchal culture—a vow I frequently failed to keep, especially with how raw and confused I felt about their vigilante style of justice.
“What do you think they’ll do to Tyler?”
Eva glanced away, her jaw flexing. “I don’t think you want to know that.”
“I do.” My voice rose, startling Brisket.
He nosed my hand, and I scratched his ears absently.
“After the first time I visited the clubhouse, I spent all night reading articles about what motorcycle clubs like this do. What men like Reaper do for those clubs. Merrick told me a little bit about what happened with the Rangers. And he explained why Fuse went to prison. But doesn’t that bother you?
I think Merrick would’ve beaten Tyler to death if Hatchet hadn’t told him to stop. ”
Eva nodded. “I think Tyler might deserve that.”
My eyes widened in shock. “You—what?”
Eva leaned forward. “Tyler held a gun to your head. Your neck is bruised. You had to practically break his ribs to get away. He betrayed the club—men who’d take a bullet for him. You think he deserves sympathy? You think he deserves mercy?”
I huffed in response, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. Anger and guilt tangled in my gut. “But do we get to decide who lives and who dies?”
“He’s willing to give away information that could land the guys in prison. I won’t lose any sleep if they bury his body tonight.”
I stared at her. This wasn’t the Eva I knew—the perfectionistic high achiever with a moral compass. Her relationship with Reaper and the club had changed her.
Or maybe this ruthlessness had always been there, simmering beneath her polished exterior.
The thought unsettled me, but so did the realization that part of me understood her anger. Part of me wanted Tyler to pay, too.
I slumped back, exhaustion weighing heavier than my fury.
My mind kept replaying the scene—the cold press of the gun at my temple, the wild desperation in Tyler’s eyes, the sickening sound of Merrick’s fists battering flesh.
I remembered the way Merrick looked at me, his eyes dark with rage, protectiveness, and maybe even fear.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “That the man you love is capable of that level of violence?”
She stilled. “Reaper’s capable of worse. So is Hatchet. Honestly, so am I.”
I opened my mouth in surprise, but my phone rang, the screen lighting up with Hatchet’s name.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, doll. How are you feeling?” Hatchet asked, his tone soft and concerned.
“Sore, but fine.” I rubbed my neck.
Eva’s phone jingled, and she stepped out of the room before I continued. “What’s happening? What are you going to do about Tyler?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Tell me,” I insisted, my voice cracking. “I was the one with a gun to the head. I deserve to know.”
Hatchet sighed. “We don’t even know yet. We’re heading back to the clubhouse for Church. This whole situation is fucked. I just wanted to make sure you’re OK.”
“I’m OK. How’s Merrick?”
Hatchet hesitated. “He’s fine.”
“Really?”
Hatchet huffed out a laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “I haven’t seen him lose control like that before. Listen, I have to go. Take care of yourself. Merci should be there in a few to look at that wrist.”
Eva stepped back into the room, slipping her phone back in her pocket. “They’re meeting for Church to discuss what to do. My guess is Tyler being an informant makes things complicated. If he disappears, the feds will have more reason to knock at our doors.”
I bit my lip, my mind racing with possibilities—none of them good. “So what does that mean? They just let him go?”
“If they do, it won’t be because they want to.”
I swallowed hard, my throat still aching and my wrist throbbing.
The thought of what might happen next—what these men were capable of—settled like a stone in my stomach.
Yesterday, I’d been furious at Thane, horrified by Fuse’s past, and ready to walk away.
But after the attack, after seeing Merrick’s rage and Eva’s cold resolve, I was left feeling lost. I wanted to believe in justice, in mercy, in doing the right thing.
But in this world, the lines were blurred, and I wasn’t sure I knew what side to stand on.
Brisket nudged my hand again, and I buried my fingers in his fur, seeking comfort. I needed to figure out what I believed in—and whether I was strong enough to stand behind a club that believed violence and loyalty were two sides of the same coin.