Chapter 6 Evangeline
CHAPTER SIX
evangeline
The Saint's Outlaws clubhouse has been transformed into something I barely recognize.
Gone are the beer bottles and ashtrays, the evidence of late-night parties and dangerous business.
In their place are flowers, memorial photos of Marcus and Calla, and rows of folding chairs filled with people who loved them.
I'm standing at the podium they've set up near the bar, looking out at faces that tell the story of my brother's life.
Coworkers from his accounting firm, neighbors from their street, parents from the kids' schools.
And scattered throughout, men in leather cuts who I'm learning aren't the criminals Ethan made them out to be.
They're family.
"Marcus wasn't the kind of person who demanded attention," I begin, my voice carrying across the room. "He was steady, reliable, the kind of brother who showed up when you needed him most, even if you didn't know you needed him."
My eyes find the five children sitting in the front row. Mason has his arm around Emma's shoulders, both of them trying to be strong for the younger ones. Jake is holding Sophie's hand while Lily sits in Hades' lap, her small body pressed against his chest like she's trying to disappear.
The sight of him holding her punches something low in my gut; warm and aching and entirely wrong for this moment.
"And Calla..." My voice wavers, and I take a breath to steady myself. "Calla was sunshine personified. She could make anyone laugh, could find the bright side of any situation. She loved with her whole heart, especially when it came to her children."
Lily starts crying then, soft, hitching sobs that cut through the room like a blade. Without hesitation, Hades stands and carries her to the back of the room, his voice a low murmur of comfort that doesn't disturb the service but makes my chest tight with longing.
He's so natural with her. So gentle and protective and everything a father should be.
"They built a beautiful life together," I continue, forcing my attention back to the eulogy. "A life centered around love and laughter and the belief that family isn't just about blood. It's about choosing to show up for each other, day after day, through everything life throws at you.
"Marcus and Calla's greatest legacy isn't in the things they accomplished or the money they earned," I say, looking directly at their children. "It's in these five incredible human beings they raised to be compassionate, funny, resilient, and full of love. They would be so proud of you all."
Mason nods, tears streaming down his face, and Emma reaches over to squeeze my hand where it rests on the podium. The simple gesture of support from a thirteen-year-old girl breaks something open in my chest.
"So while we're here to mourn what we've lost, I hope we can also celebrate what they gave us.
The reminder that love is the only thing that really matters.
That family isn't about perfection, it's about showing up.
And that even in our darkest moments, we're never truly alone if we have people who care about us. "
I step back from the podium, my part done, and Ghost takes my place to invite others to share memories. The stories that follow paint a picture of two people who touched more lives than they probably ever knew.
But I'm not really listening anymore. My attention keeps drifting to the back of the room where Hades is still holding Lily, rocking her gently while she cries.
The sight of this big, dangerous man being so tender with a broken child does things to me that have nothing to do with grief and everything to do with the feelings I'm supposed to be ignoring.
"That was beautiful," a voice says beside me once the ceremony is over, and I turn to find Tempest holding two cups of coffee.
"Thank you." I accept the coffee gratefully, needing something to do with my hands.
"The kids are lucky to have you."
"They're lucky to have all of us."
Tempest's eyes follow my gaze to where Hades is now crouched down, talking quietly to Mason while still holding Lily. "Yeah. They are."
There's something in his tone that makes me look at him more closely, but his expression is carefully neutral.
"He's good with them," I say, trying to sound casual.
"Hades? Yeah, he's always been good with kids. He raised Calla himself when they were young. Their dad was..." Tempest pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Let's just say Hades learned early what kids need to feel safe."
The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut. I knew their childhood was difficult, but I hadn't realized Hades had essentially been a father figure to Calla from a young age.
No wonder he's so natural with the children. No wonder they gravitate toward him like he's their anchor in this storm.
"Evangeline." Ethan's voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade, and I turn to find him standing behind me with barely controlled fury radiating from every line of his body.
I'm surprised he's here. After our confrontation when I gave him back his ring, I didn't expect him to show up at Marcus and Calla's funeral.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"I'm here to talk sense into you." His voice is tight with anger, but he's keeping it low enough so most people won't overhear. "This whole charade has gone on long enough."
"Charade?"
“This ridiculous fantasy of playing mother to five kids that aren’t yours. It’s time to come home.”
The casual cruelty of it, the way he reduces my grief and my family obligations to stupidity, makes my stomach turn.
"I am home."
"No, you're not. You're having some kind of breakdown, and I'm here to help you through it." He steps closer, his voice taking on that patronizing tone I've learned to hate. "I understand you're upset about your brother, but throwing away your entire future isn't going to bring him back."
"I'm not throwing away anything. I'm finally choosing what matters to me."
Ethan's laugh is cold and mocking. "What matters to you? Poverty? Chaos? Raising someone else's damaged children while living with criminals?"
"They're not criminals—"
"They're bikers, Evangeline. Do you have any idea what that means?
The kind of illegal activities these people are involved in?
" His voice rises slightly, drawing glances from nearby mourners.
"You're going to destroy your reputation, your career, your entire life, and for what? Some misguided sense of duty?"
"It's not misguided."
"What do you know about raising traumatized kids, Evangeline? What happens when the reality of what you've taken on hits you?"
The questions are designed to make me doubt myself, to plant seeds of fear about my ability to handle what I'm committing to.
Two days ago, they might have worked.
But not anymore.
"I'll figure it out."
“You’ll figure it out?” he snaps. “That’s your plan?”
"If necessary."
"This is insane. You're being completely irrational." He glances around, aware that people are starting to notice our raised voices, then grabs my arm and pulls me toward a quieter corner. “Five kids? Trauma? Social services? You really think this ends in a fairy tale?”
I say nothing. He sees that as weakness.
“He’ll leave, Evangeline. Men like that always do.”
I try to pull free, but his grip tightens. "Let go of me."
"Not until you listen to reason. You think this is what you want now, but what happens in six months when the honeymoon phase wears off?
When you're dealing with nightmares and behavioral problems and social services breathing down your neck?
When that biker gets bored with playing daddy and moves on to easier prey? "
"That's not going to happen."
"He’ll take what he wants and leave you drowning; with five broken kids and no way out.”
His words are poison, designed to make me question everything I've decided. But instead of causing doubt, they just make me angry.
"You don't know anything about him," I say, my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest.
"I know enough. I know he's using you. Using those children to manipulate you into some twisted fantasy of domestic bliss." Ethan's grip on my arm becomes painful. "But when the novelty wears off, when reality sets in, he'll be gone. And you'll be left with nothing."
"I'd rather have nothing with him than everything with you."
The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest and absolutely final. Ethan's face goes white with shock, then flushes red with fury.
"You ungrateful bitch," he snarls, his mask of civilized concern finally dropping completely. "After everything I've given you, everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"
"Given me? You mean controlled me. You shaped me into what you wanted instead of loving who I am."
"I loved you enough to try to make you better."
"You loved the idea of me. The trophy wife who would make you look good at dinner parties and charity galas. You never loved me."
Ethan's eyes narrow dangerously. "And you think he does? That criminal who barely knows you?"
"I think he sees me. Really sees me. Not some project to be improved or possession to be displayed."
"He sees an easy mark. A desperate woman he can manipulate into taking care of his family obligations."
The cruel assessment makes my chest tight with fury. "Those children are not obligations. They're human beings who need love and stability."
"They're damaged goods that will destroy your life if you let them." Ethan leans closer, his voice dropping to something venomous. "But maybe that's what you want. Maybe you're so pathetic, so desperate for purpose, that you'll cling to any man who shows you the slightest bit of attention."
The words hit like physical blows, designed to tear down every bit of confidence I've built over the past few days. This is what Ethan does when he doesn't get his way—he tries to destroy the person who disappointed him.
"Let go of me," I say quietly.
"Not until you listen to reason—"
"Let go of her."