Chapter 9 #3
She stares at me. Those green eyes I've been trying not to want since day one.
"You're wrong," she finally says. "About all of it."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. You are." She steps back. Pulls herself together. "And someday you're going to realize just how wrong you are."
"Go win your trial. Go be brave. Go prove you're the strongest woman I've ever known."
"And then what? I just forget you exist?"
"If that's what it takes."
A tear slips down her cheek. She doesn't wipe it away.
"I could have loved you. I think I already do."
Everything stops—my heart, my breath, the whole goddamn world.
"I know." My voice cracks. I let it. Can't hide this one. "That's why I have to let you go."
She holds my gaze for one more second. I see all of it—fury, grief, love she's not hiding anymore.
Then she turns to Maya.
"I'm ready."
Maya nods. Puts an arm around her. Guides her toward the door.
"Wait."
Everyone freezes.
I can't go with her. But I can make damn sure she doesn't walk into that courtroom alone.
"I've backed down. I'll go into fucking hiding if that'll help. But Ash goes with her. That's my deal."
Rodriguez turns. "Excuse me?"
"You're not sending her to Atlanta with just Maya and the security team that got her shot. Ash goes."
"Mr. Diesel, I just explained—"
"He's the sheriff. Law enforcement escort for a witness in a high-profile case. The defense wants to make an issue of that, they'll look like idiots."
Rodriguez's gaze sharpens. "The same arguments apply. His connection to your organization—"
"Ash." I don't take my eyes off Rodriguez. "Tell her."
Ash steps forward.
"I'm escorting her in an official capacity. Witness protection. I have standing. I have cause. Defense tries to spin it any other way, they'll be laughed out of court." He pauses. "I know the law, Ms. Rodriguez. Probably better than you think."
Rodriguez calculates. Whether this fight is worth having. Whether she can win it.
She can't.
"Fine. But you stay in the background. No interviews. No statements. Security, nothing more."
"Understood."
Rodriguez walks out. Carver follows without meeting my eyes.
At the threshold, Eden stops. Looks back.
I don't let myself move. If I do, I'll break.
"Goodbye, Diesel."
She's gone before I can respond.
Maya's already at the SUV, getting Eden settled. Through the window I can see her—rigid shoulders, staring straight ahead.
Maya pauses before climbing in. Looks at me across the yard.
She doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to.
Ash jogs to the Bronco, unhooks the trailer, climbs in. The convoy pulls out—SUV first, then Ash behind them.
Eden's in the back seat. I can see her profile through the window. The set of her jaw.
She doesn't look back.
The vehicles round the bend. Disappear.
I stand on the porch until my legs go numb.
Behind me, the clang of metal. Crow's unloading my bike from the trailer.
He's giving me a minute. I know what comes after.
I go inside, put my fist through the wall I've been patching all week, find a bottle of whatever Murphy left behind, and sit at the kitchen table to wait.
When Crow finally comes in, I'm three drinks deep, sitting across from her empty chair. It's not enough. Nothing's going to be enough.
He stops in the doorway, taking in the scene—cold scrambled eggs still on the table, the hole in the drywall, Murphy's half-empty bottle in front of me.
He doesn't say anything. Just crosses the room.
"Rodriguez dropped a bomb and you fell on it."
"I don't need a pep talk."
"Good. I'm not here to give you one." He pulls out the chair across from me—her chair—and sits.
I take another pull from the bottle.
"I made a call."
"Did you? You tried to fight. Growled at a DA." He takes the bottle from me, drinks. "And then you rolled over the second she pushed back."
I don't answer. Take it back. Drink.
"She was talking about optics, brother. Trial strategy. But that's not what you heard, is it?" He leans forward. "You heard 'you're poison and everyone you love dies.'"
I flinch.
"I was there when you showed up at the clubhouse, half-dead and blaming yourself for all of it.
There for the three years after when you were trying to finish the job.
Watched you build those walls brick by fucking brick.
" He pauses. "Rodriguez didn't break you and Eden apart. Red did. Fifteen years ago."
I stare at the hole in the wall. My knuckles are still bleeding. I didn't notice until now.
"I didn't have a choice."
"Bullshit. You had a choice. You fought for thirty seconds, and the moment Rodriguez used your own nature against you, you crumbled." His voice is hard. Not cruel—just honest. "You let her win because part of you wanted her to. Wanted the excuse."
"Because she's right!"
"No. She said being with you would complicate the trial. You heard 'being with me will get her killed.' One is temporary. The other is guilt that was never yours to carry."
I don't have an answer for that.
"Red didn't die because you loved him. He died because the world is cruel and people are monsters." A pause. "And today you let go of the one person who might have helped you put that weight down."
"I didn't push her away. I let her go. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He sets the bottle down and stands, looking down at me—drunk, bleeding, alone.
"You called her the strongest woman you know. Then you decided she wasn't strong enough to choose you." He heads for the door. "Think about that."
His bike starts. Fades into the trees.
I sit in the dark, bleeding knuckles wrapped around a bottle, and wait for the certainty to come back.
It doesn't.