Chapter Three
Violet
The morning light crept in, pale and intrusive. I blinked against it, my heart quickening as unfamiliar surroundings came into focus. The sheets felt too crisp, the air too still. For a split second, panic clawed up my throat -- then it all flooded back. Underland MC. March. Safety.
I exhaled slowly, pushing the blankets off with a shiver. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet. This wasn’t just any haven. I had a feeling it was going to be so much more. A stronghold. Not the building itself. No, what made it safe was March.
Standing up took effort. My muscles were tight, coiled with the tension of the last few days. Or had it been weeks? Time blurred when running on fear.
In the attached bathroom, I faced my reflection. The girl staring back at me had whiskey-colored eyes too large for her face, dark hair tangled from restless sleep. She looked like she’d seen hell. Maybe she had.
“Keep moving, Vi,” I murmured.
The faucet’s metallic scent filled the small space as I washed up. Cold water splashed over my skin, grounding me, washing away the remnants of nightmares that clung like cobwebs. I patted my face dry with a towel. I even found a new toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste. Assuming they were okay to use, I quickly brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth.
March. I needed to find him. He was the anchor in this storm, the promise of protection I hadn’t known I’d craved until I landed in this mess.
I left the bathroom, my steps hesitant but determined. The common room would be busy now, the club members starting their day. Or so I assumed. I didn’t know them yet, really, but I had to navigate this new world somehow. For my child. For me.
It was time to stop running, time to start fighting. With a deep breath, I stepped into the common room, scanning the space for the man who’d promised to help me rewrite my future.
My heart thrummed. Eyes slid over me, quick and assessing. I clutched the fabric of my shirt, felt it dampen under my grip.
March was there, his back to the wall, eyes like chips of ice cutting across the room to meet mine. A path cleared as I moved, toward him. The two women at the bar, their laughter a jarring note in the tense air, caught my attention. They looked tough, unbreakable -- so different from the fragile thing I felt inside.
“Violet,” March’s voice rumbled, low and commanding. Every muscle in my body tensed, then relaxed. His presence alone did that -- calmed the chaos.
I picked up the pace, closing the distance between us until I stood before him, acutely aware of the space he occupied. With a crooked finger, he beckoned. Closer, closer. My steps quickened I was so eager for the safety he promised without words.
“Sit,” he said, almost gentle. The chair scraped the floor, an abrasive sound that matched the rawness in my throat. I sank into it.
March’s gaze never wavered, piercing through the last remnants of my fear, anchoring me to the here and now. March’s glare sliced through the buzz of conversation. One by one, the others shuffled out, leaving nothing but silence behind. The two women at the bar cast me a look I couldn’t read before following suit.
“Talk to me, Vi,” March said, voice low and steady as bedrock. “I need to know what you’ve been through. I didn’t get much from you last night, but I need to know it all.”
The words jostled in my chest, each one a shard of glass scraping its way up my throat. My hands trembled on my lap.
“Back home…” My voice was a whisper, fractured and faint. “There were always guys who didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. I’d managed to avoid them, until…”
“When you say they wouldn’t take no for an answer… Did they hurt you?” March’s question came with a dangerous edge, his blue eyes darkening like storm clouds. It was clear he already knew the answer, but for some reason needed me to spell it out for him.
I nodded, a solitary tear betraying the dam I’d built. “It wasn’t just him. There were others. Memories are… they’re foggy. But I remember enough.”
“When you say enough, it’s obvious you’re scared if you came all the way here, but how much do you remember?”
“Not exactly everything. But what I do remember leaves me feeling terrified.” The word hung heavy between us, a specter of my past. “Every touch is a reminder. Every glance feels like judgment. It all comes to me in flickers. Bits and pieces. But it’s enough to know what they did.”
March leaned forward, elbows on knees, bridging the gap. “You’re not alone anymore, Vi. We stand together here. Tell me what you need.”
“Justice,” I breathed. “Safety for my child.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get.”
The room felt too big, the silence too loud. March’s gaze never wavered from my face, his eyes searching for the pieces of a puzzle only I could complete.
“Vi,” he said, his voice softer now, “whatever you can remember might help us find them.”
I swallowed hard, willing my heartbeat to slow. “It was late. The bar had just closed. I’d been working there since I was eighteen. Waiting tables, even though I wasn’t supposed to touch the liquor.” Each word scraped against my raw insides. “I thought I was alone.”
“Did you know him?” His words were precise, cutting through the haze of my memories.
“His face… it’s blurry. But his voice…” A shiver raced down my spine. “It was deep, mocking.”
“Anything else? A tattoo, a ring, something unique?”
“Scars,” I muttered, the image surfacing like an apparition in my mind. “On his knuckles. Like he’d been in fights.” My voice steadied with the detail.
“Good.” March’s nod was approval, encouragement. “We’ll start there.”
“Will we find him? It’s not much to go on. His hair was… dark, I think.”
March’s expression hardened, the promise in his eyes as sharp as a blade. “We don’t stop until we do.”
The memory surged forward, a relentless tide. “He pushed me against the wall,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. My fingers curled into fists on my lap, nails digging into my palms. The fear was still there, icy and suffocating, but beneath it, something else simmered. A fierce resolve. “I fought. I scratched his face.” I could almost feel the ghost of his skin under my nails.
“Keep going.” March’s approval was a lifeline.
The room blurred, but I blinked it back into focus. I told him about the sensation of hands tearing at my clothes. The way I was held down as they took turns using me.
“Last night you said the baby’s father was dead. Were you pregnant before that happened?” he asked.
I shook my head. I’d lied to him, not wanting to explain things last night. I’d been too exhausted.
“So he’s one of the men who raped you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I hadn’t been with anyone else in months. Afterward, I was too scared to tell the police. I wasn’t supposed to be working at the bar. Got treated by a woman in the neighborhood. Later, when I was throwing up my breakfast, I went to the clinic. They not only ran a pregnancy test but checks for STDs too. I’m clean, in case you were wondering. Thankfully, all they gave me were nightmares and a baby.”
March leaned in, his blue eyes scanning my face. “How did you find me?”
“I…” A twinge of pride nudged at the shame as I met his gaze. “I hacked into multiple government offices and followed the paper trail.”
“You what?” His eyebrows shot up, a rare crack in his stoic facade.
“Turns out college wasn’t a total waste.” I managed a half-smile, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. “I’ve got skills, March.”
“Clearly.” He leaned back, regarding me with newfound respect. “Hacking, huh?”
“Desperation makes you resourceful.” The words hung heavy in the air, a testament to the lengths I’d go to protect my future.
March’s nod was slow, deliberate. “Never underestimate a mother,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
“Or someone with nothing left to lose.”
His jaw tightened, the set of his mouth telling me he understood all too well. In that moment, I knew March would become an ally. March’s gaze never wavered from mine, a silent acknowledgment of the admission I’d just made.
“You’ve got a set of skills we could use,” he said, his voice low but carrying across the stillness that had settled between us. “There’s rot at the city’s core. Corruption we’ve been trying to expose. You in?”
I felt the weight of his question -- an offer to be part of something larger than myself. It was a chance to take back control, to fight against the darkness instead of being consumed by it.
“Okay,” I replied, my response more a breath than a word, but it was enough.
“Good.” He stood up, the movement fluid, like a predator uncoiling. “Let’s get you introduced. Properly this time.”
March led me into a kitchen with a large table. Big enough for everyone to fit around it, and still leave room for more.
“Listen up!” March’s voice cut through the hum of conversation, commanding attention. “As I said last night, this is Violet and she’s Ben’s sister. It turns out she has some talent we can use. Actually, Absolem, she may have you beat when it comes to a computer.”
The members of the Underland MC looked at me, not with pity, but with something akin to respect. No words were exchanged, but the nods and subtle shifts in posture told me all I needed to know. I was under their wing now, and in their silent acceptance, I found an unexpected sense of security.
“Violet,” a voice called out. I turned to see a woman waving at me. “We’re glad you’re here. I’m Jo. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure where she fit into this crew.
“I’m Eliza,” said the woman beside her. “I’m with Cheshire. Jo is with Hatter.”
Jo’s eyebrow arched. “And you’re with March?”
My cheeks flushed. Only in my dreams.
“Stop playing matchmaker,” March said.
“Take a seat, get comfortable. We look after our own here,” Eliza said, gesturing to the chair beside her.
I sat, surrounded by the strength of these women. They didn’t know my full story yet, but their acceptance didn’t require it.
After a while, March beckoned me over with a tilt of his head. “Let’s talk,” he murmured, leading me away from the group to a quiet corner of the common room. His blue eyes searched mine, seeking the truth that lay beneath scars and walls.
“Tell me about your losses,” he said, his voice low, insistent. The command in his tone left no room for evasion. But there were some things I just wasn’t ready to share. I felt too ashamed.
“Too many to count,” I admitted, the words scraping my throat raw. “The worst… It changed me.”
“Mine too,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine. “But we’re still here.”
“Still fighting,” I added.
“Exactly.” There was a pause, heavy with unspoken understanding. “You’re not alone in this fight, Violet. Not anymore.”
“Thank you.” The gratitude was deep, warming the cold corners of my soul. With March, I didn’t need to hide my past.
His nod was solemn.
The room faded away until there was only March, his blue eyes locked onto mine, seeing past the facade to the raw wounds beneath. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. The silence stretched between us, taut as a wire.
In that quiet, I felt it -- the shift in the air. March’s presence enveloped me, the promise of safety wrapping around me like a shield. He didn’t need to say the words. His resolve was etched in every line of his body.
“Nobody,” he said finally, the word a low growl of protection, “is going to hurt you again. Not on my watch.”
“March --” My voice broke.
“Shh.” He raised a hand, silencing me. “I mean it. This is personal. I’m surprised Ben didn’t come back from the dead to kick my ass when you suffered like that. If I’d kept in touch, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out that way. I failed you before. I won’t this time.”
A guardian angel clad in leather and ink. It almost made me smile. I’d never once blamed him. I’d missed the hell out of him. But deep down, I’d known why he never came back home. For the same reason I hated to remain there. It wasn’t the same without Ben.
“I wasn’t your responsibility,” I said. “I’ve never once blamed you for the way my life turned out. No one made Ben join the Marines. His death was the result of his choices, not yours.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” March said, briefly closing his eyes.
I nearly reached for him, wanting to offer comfort, but something told me it wouldn’t be welcome. No, for now, I’d watch and wait. But if March ever gave any indication he’d welcome my touch, then I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold back.