Chapter 31 Solana
SOLANA
“Everything’s going to be fine.”
Korine reaches over and squeezes my hand, her dark eyes warm with reassurance. “The men handle these kinds of situations all the time. It’s practically Tuesday for them.”
I sigh, staring down at the untouched cup of coffee in front of me. “I know. But... It’s different this time.”
“Trust me, we get it,” Sydney says, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “How do you think we feel? In just two years, we’ve been through some real tough shit.”
Korine nods, ticking off on her fingers. “The Hellrazors. The Road Rebels. The Chosen Saints.”
“One word: Boone.” Zoe doesn’t even look up from her phone, her thumb scrolling lazily across the screen.
“And Boone,” Korine agrees.
“Unfortunately, being a Steel Queen means occasionally having a mini heart attack when our Kings go handle business. It comes with the territory,” says Sydney.
Korine nods. “You get used to it. Well, kind of. You learn to cope, at least.”
“Wine helps,” Zoe mutters.
“Zoe,” Sydney chides.
“What? It does… and she’s of age now. She can have all the wine she likes.”
I try to smile, but I can’t bring myself to, all things considered. My mood is too anxious and the air feels just as bleak.
The conversation changes after that, drifting into lighter topics—Korine’s wedding planning, Zoe’s latest argument with Ozzie about whose turn it was to do dishes, Sydney and Mason’s house hunting as they finally move out of the one behind the Steel Saloon.
The ladies chat among themselves, their voices a comfortable hum in the background of the barroom.
But I still can’t focus.
Deep down, I know they’re right. These women have been through hell and back with their men and this club. They’ve survived wars and betrayals and god knows what else. If anyone understands what it’s like to sit and wait while the men you love ride into danger, it’s them.
But they don’t know everything.
They don’t know Tom’s been working with Wheels. That the former president of the Steel Kings—Mace’s own father—has been actively trying to destroy the club from the inside.
That this isn’t just a negotiation or a territory dispute. This is a powder keg waiting for a spark.
…and Silver’s right in the middle of it.
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong; something’s about to go terribly, horribly wrong.
“Hey,” Sydney says, stirring me from my spiraling thoughts. “You okay? You look out of it.”
I force a smile. “Yeah. Just... need to use the restroom. I drank a ton of coffee before me and Silver even got here.”
“Take your time.” She nods, though concern still flickers in her eyes.
I slide out of my chair and head toward the bathroom. The hallway is dim and quiet, a welcome respite from the noise of the main barroom. I push open the bathroom door and lean over the sink, turning on the cold water.
The face staring back at me in the mirror looks worried. Flat out petrified.
Get it together, Lana.
I cup my hands under the faucet and splash the cold water on my face, letting it shock some sense back into me.
It helps a little. Enough to slow my racing heart and remind me Silver’s more than capable of handling things. He wouldn’t walk into that meeting without a plan.
He’s going to be fine.
He has to be or else I won’t be either…
I pat my face dry with a paper towel and take a deep breath. Then I push open the bathroom door and step back into the hallway.
“Hey there, sweetheart.”
I nearly jump out of my skin before I realize it’s just Mick, emerging from the stockroom with a case of whiskey bottles in his arms. His white hair is mussed and there’s a smudge of dust on his cheek, but his eyes are kind as they settle on me.
“Everything okay?” he asks, setting the case down with a grunt. “I’ve noticed you still seem upset.”
His concern in and of itself is reassuring. Silver has joked that Mick is the club’s grandpa, and that couldn’t be more true. He’s the ever steady, gentle presence who is the backbone of the club, keeping the saloon running and serving as a listening ear to everybody.
“I’m just a little anxious,” I admit. “Waiting is the hardest part.”
He nods sagely. “Always is. But those boys know what they’re doing. Silver especially. That man’s got more lives than a cat. Tell you what. Let me fix you a Cherry Coke with whipped cream. Your favorite, right?”
My smile returns to my face, a real one. “You remembered.”
“Course I did. I’ve got everybody’s drinks memorized in this noggin.” He chuckles, tapping his temple. “Maybe I’ll add a little rum too. Just to take the edge off now that you’re all grown up, Miss Twenty-One.”
I laugh despite myself, following him back toward the main floor. For only a moment, the knot in my chest loosens. Maybe everything really will be—
I stop dead in my tracks.
Teysha’s here.
Logan’s wife is standing near the bar, baby Chloe balanced on her hip.
She’s wearing a loose sweater that drapes her body, her hair thrown up in a messy bun like she rushed out the door without thinking.
Her face is less radiant than usual, tears streaming down her cheeks as she talks to the other ladies.
Tito stands nearby, his expression grim.
The knot in my chest pulls tight again. Tighter than before.
This can’t be good.
I wander over on legs that feel like they belong to someone else, dread sinking through me like a stone dropped in water. The ladies have gone silent, their features flat and wide with shock.
Sydney has her hand pressed over her mouth. Korine looks like she might be sick.
“What happened?” I ask, sounding unlike myself. Almost as if it’s someone else speaking through my mouth. “What’s going on?”
Teysha turns to me, her eyes red-rimmed and wild with fear.
“I was on the phone with Logan,” she chokes out. “He was riding out from the meeting. Everything seemed fine, he said they’d worked it out, and then… then I heard this huge explosion. Like a bomb or something going off. And the call just... it dropped. Something’s wrong. Really, really wrong.”