Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Meghan
My blood boils as I stare into her eyes. "Watch yourself, Lexi," I growl, taking a step closer.
Lexi's brown eyes glitter with malice as she snickers, "You wouldn't dare put your hands on me."
The rage that's been simmering beneath the surface finally erupts.
I laugh in her face, a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the room. "Wanna bet? You fuck with my daughter and it's fair game, and you already pissed me off."
Lexi's face contorts with anger, her carefully crafted mask of superiority slipping. "Your brat had it coming. Maybe if you spent less time trying to play house with Tor and more time teaching her some manners?—"
I cut her off, my voice low and dangerous. "Don't you dare speak about my daughter. You're treading on thin ice, Lexi."
She scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Please. You think you're so special just because Tor decided to slap a label on you? You're nothing but a glorified whore, just like the rest of us."
The words sting, hitting too close to home.
I push down the flicker of self-doubt, reminding myself of how far I've come. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous I’m an ol’ lady? His ol’ lady?"
Lexi's eyes narrow. "Jealous? Of you? Don't make me laugh."
I take another step closer, invading her personal space. "Then what's your problem? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're throwing a temper tantrum because you can't handle the fact that I've got something you want."
She tries to push me back, but I stand my ground. "You don't know anything about what I want," she hisses.
"Oh, I think I do," I retort, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want the status, the security, the respect. But you're too busy playing games and stirring up drama to earn any of it."
Lexi's face flushes red with anger. "You think you're so much better than me? You're nothing but a?—"
"Careful," I warn, cutting her off. "Remember who's the ol' lady here and who's the hora . Plus, I already kicked your ass once already."
The reminder of our previous altercation seems to give her pause.
I can see the conflict in her eyes, the desire to lash out warring with the memory of her defeat.
"You got lucky," she spits out finally.
I shake my head, a humorless smile playing on my lips. "Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know the truth."
Lexi opens her mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand, silencing her. "I'm done with this petty bullshit. You want to come at me? Fine. But leave my kid out of it. Next time you even think about messing with Tindra, I won't be so nice."
She scoffs, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. "Nice? You call this nice?"
"Trust me, sweetheart," I say, my voice low and menacing, "if I wasn't being nice, you'd know it."
We stand there for a moment, locked in a silent battle of wills.
The tension in the air is palpable, and I'm acutely aware of the eyes on us, the other club members and horas watching our every move.
Before I can say anything else, a flash of blonde hair cuts through my vision.
Skadi, Logi's ol' lady, steps between me, Lexi, and Tindra, her hand firmly gripping Lexi's arm.
"Give her some damn space," Skadi says, her voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.
Lexi huffs, her chest heaving with frustration.
She looks like she wants to argue, but one glance at Skadi's steely gaze has her thinking better of it.
With a final dramatic sigh, she stomps off toward the bar.
Skadi turns to me, her blue eyes softening. "Pay her no mind, Meghan. She's not worth the trouble."
I clench my fists, my blood still boiling. "If that bitch fucks around with my kid again, I'm going to make things bloody. And I won't stop at just her face this time."
Skadi nods, a look of understanding passing between us.
In club life, I don’t have the luxury of ignoring dumb bitches like Lexi.
If I let her get away with this shit, I’ll have a long line of bitches who try to do the same.
Tindra tugs at my sleeve, her gray eyes wide. "Mom, it's okay. It wasn't a big deal."
I cup her face in my hands. "No, baby, it was. That was blatant disrespect, and I won't allow that to happen to you. Not ever."
As I stand, I notice Jaycee, one of the other horas , already on her knees cleaning up the mess.
Her pale skin contrasts sharply with her reddish-copper hair as she methodically picks up the scattered food.
"You don't need to do that," I tell her, feeling a pang of guilt.
Jaycee looks up, offering a small smile. "We all know Lexi won't clean it up. It's the respectful thing to do."
I'm taken aback by her kindness.
In a world that can be so harsh, these small acts of decency stand out like beacons.
"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion.
To my surprise, Tindra drops down beside Jaycee, her small hands joining in the cleanup effort.
Pride swells in my chest at my daughter's actions, even as worry gnaws at me.
This life—is this really what I want for her?
To grow up surrounded by violence and power struggles, where kindness is the exception rather than the rule?
I watch them work together, my mind racing with possibilities and fears.
Jaycee's gentle voice breaks through my swirling thoughts. "Tindra, sweetie, why don't you go get another plate of chili and all the fixin's? I've got this covered."
My daughter hesitates, her eyes flickering to me for guidance.
I nod, forcing a smile. "Go on, baby. Get yourself something to eat."
As Tindra scampers off, I feel my heart thundering in my chest.
The adrenaline from the confrontation with Lexi is still coursing through my veins, making my hands shake.
I set my own plate down, barely touched.
"Skadi," I manage, my voice tight. "I need some air. I'll be right back."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Take your time, Meghan. We've got things under control in here."
I slip out the heavy industrial door, gulping in the crisp night air.
The parking lot is dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cracked asphalt.
I lean against the rough brick wall, trying to steady my breathing.
Lexi's smug face flashes in my mind, and I clench my fists.
That bitch.
Who does she think she is, messing with my kid?
The protective rage that surged through me earlier threatens to bubble up again.
A raised voice catches my attention, and I turn my head.
Near the edge of the lot, I spot two figures: a tall man with a neck tattoo and a young woman I recognize as Astrid.
He's snapping at her wildly, his words carrying on the night air.
"Jesus, Astrid, do you ever think?" he snaps. "I love you, but you make the stupidest decisions. Look at what you're wearing!"
I take in Astrid's outfit—a cute black skirt paired with a plaid shirt and combat boot heels.
She looks adorable, in my opinion, but the guy is clearly not impressed.
Astrid's voice is small when she responds. "What's wrong with my outfit?"
The man laughs, a harsh, mocking sound that sets my teeth on edge. "Everything. You lack common sense, Astrid, Jesus."
I feel my protective instincts flaring up again.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
I edge closer, ready to intervene if needed.
Part of me knows I should mind my own business, but I can't stand by and watch this asshole tear Astrid down.
My mind races, debating whether to step in or not.
Is this how it starts?
The slow erosion of self-esteem, the cutting remarks that chip away at a person's sense of worth?
I've seen it before, lived it before, and the familiar anger rises in my throat like bile.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself.
I may not be able to fix all the world's problems, but I'll be damned if I let this continue right in front of me.
I watch as the guy's eyes sweep over the clubhouse, his lip curling in disgust.
"Even your family is fucking nuts. Look at this place," he spits out, gesturing wildly.
Astrid's shoulders slump, and I can see the fight drain out of her. "You should probably leave," she says quietly. "Wanting you to meet my family was a big mistake."
He laughs, the sound dripping with narcissism.
"No problem," he sneers, turning on his heel and stalking away.
I wait until he's out of earshot before approaching Astrid.
"Hey," I say softly, touching her arm. "Are you okay?"
She turns to me, and I can see the tears shimmering in her eyes.
She's trying so hard to hold them back, to maintain her composure, but I can see the pain etched across her face.
"It's all right," I murmur, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "Let it out. You don't have to hold it in."
Astrid runs her fingertips through her light brown hair, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.
The dam breaks, and tears start to fall freely down her cheeks.
"I'm just so mad," she confesses, her voice cracking. "I've given myself to Laken time and time again. I've changed so much for him, and he doesn't even appreciate it."
My heart aches for her.
I know all too well what it's like to bend yourself into knots for someone who doesn't value you. "Oh, honey," I say, pulling her into a hug. "You deserve so much better than that."
I pull back from the hug, looking Astrid straight in the eyes. "Listen to me," I say firmly, my hands on her shoulders. "You should never have to change for a man. Period. It's stupid, and any guy who wants you to change doesn't actually love you. They love the idea of you, or what they think you should be. But that's not real love."
Astrid scoffs, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. "I loved him," she says bitterly. "But he never loved me. It's so evident now."
My chest tightens at the pain in her voice.
I've been there, thinking I was in love with someone who saw me as nothing more than a plaything. "I know it hurts," I say softly. "But you're better off without him."
I take a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully. "Men like Laken, they'll love bomb you at first. Make you feel like you're on top of the world. Then they'll gaslight you, act like they never said or did those things." I squeeze her shoulders gently. "But you're smart, Astrid. You're smart enough to know who to give your heart to, and who to keep it from."
Astrid nods, her lower lip trembling slightly.
She reaches out and grabs my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Thank you for talking to me about this," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't talk to my Mom about everything."
A pang of sadness hits me as I realize she's talking about Charm, her stepmom.
I wonder if Astrid even remembers much about her birth mother.
The thought makes me want to hold her tighter, to be the maternal figure she so clearly needs right now.
"I'm glad I could help," I tell her, giving her hand a squeeze. "Hey, why don't we go inside and get some of that chili? I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Astrid's face brightens a little at the mention of food. "God, yes. I'm absolutely famished," she says, then her expression darkens. "Laken was always getting on me about my weight. He was pressuring me to lose 30 pounds, so I kind of started skipping two meals a day."
I feel a surge of anger toward this asshole I've never even met.
Who the hell does he think he is?
I raise my eyebrows, making sure Astrid can see the disbelief on my face. "Are you kidding me? Astrid, you are absolutely gorgeous just the way you are. Any man worth his salt would be lucky to have a curvy goddess like you on his arm."
Astrid shoots me a soft smile but doesn’t say a word as we head inside.