Chapter Four
Violet
I leaned against the cool counter in the dimly lit clubhouse kitchen, watching Jo stir a pot of something that smelled like heaven. Even the baby in my belly seemed to agree, since I didn’t feel like throwing up. Eliza sat at the table, her hands clasped around a steaming mug of tea, her eyes distant yet thoughtful.
“Club life isn’t for everyone, Vi,” Jo began. “It’s about loyalty. Brotherhood -- and sisterhood. You ride with the Underland, you’re part of something bigger than yourself. And no, I don’t mean we literally ride the way they do. Although, I do enjoy it when Hatter takes me out on his bike. These days, he’s worried about the baby, though.”
Eliza nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a bond, unbreakable. We’ve all been through hell, one way or another. Here… we’re safe. We look out for each other. Our men fought in wars, lost people, and some of them have nightmares. Since you knew March before you came here, I’m sure you’re already aware of that. But Jo and I both went through our own trauma.”
I shifted, uncomfortable with my own vulnerability, yet desperate to understand. “And what about… outside? The dangers?”
Mostly, I wondered if the shit that would follow me would harm everyone here. It hadn’t been right to dump my problems on the club. March had been the only person I could think of who could possibly help me, but I’d wondered the entire way here if I was making the right decision.
“Underland’s got enemies, sure.” Jo’s eyes darkened as she glanced toward the window. “But we stand together. Fight together. Protect our own.”
Eliza reached across the table, her touch light on my hand. “We’re a family, Vi. No one gets left behind. I’m proof enough. The last enemy the club took down was my father, the sheriff. He was rotten and needed to be destroyed, but they still accepted me with open arms.”
“Even me?” I asked, the question slipping out. If those men knew Ben, would they want me here? I was a reminder of something awful that happened in their past. Wouldn’t seeing me every day just make it worse? I’d often wondered if that’s why I hadn’t seen March in all these years.
“Especially you,” they said in unison.
The warmth from their assurance seeped into my bones. It had already felt like a miracle when March hadn’t turned me away. Now these ladies were welcoming me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt accepted.
Eliza set her cup aside and picked up a pencil and pad. Her hand moved delicately across the page, and I noticed her fingers were stained with graphite. Jo gave the pot one last stir before joining her. She grabbed the other pad and started to sketch as well. Her strokes seemed bold and confident. Their art was as different as night and day.
“Vi, you ever do any drawing or anything like that?” Eliza asked without lifting her gaze.
“Me? No.” I shook my head, feeling a pang of envy. “Never had the knack for it. Or anything artistic for that matter.”
“It’s just about expression,” Jo said, her eyes still on her work. “A release, you know? I also write poetry sometimes.”
I nodded, but my mind wandered. My hobbies were more about survival. My brother had taught me the proper way to hold a knife and how to shoot a gun. Not that it had done me any good when I actually needed those skills. I hadn’t been armed when I’d needed to be.
Watching them -- their easy camaraderie, their silent understanding -- I felt something twist inside me. These people had chosen each other. Chosen to stand together against whatever darkness chased them. In their world, there was no such thing as a lone wolf. They moved as one pack, fierce and unyielding.
I’d never been part of something like that. Always on the periphery, always looking in. My brother had included me to some extent, but even he’d had his own pals. Like March.
“Vi,” Jo began, her voice steady despite the haunted look in her eyes, “you’re not on your own here. The Underland MC… it saved me. Saved us. I guess it’s kind of what they do. They were heroes before they came to Warren. Maybe they don’t know how to turn it off.”
Eliza’s hand reached out, brushing against mine. “We’ve all got scars. Some visible, some aren’t. Here, they don’t define us.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their gazes, the weight of my own past. “I’ve known March forever. Since we were kids. But to him, I’m just…”
“His best friend’s little sister?” Jo supplied, her eyes softening.
“Exactly.” My words were barely audible, an ache threading through them. I tried for a wry smile, but it trembled at the edges. How many times had I wished I could be something more to him? Even at the age of eight, I’d wanted to grow up and marry March.
“March is blind then,” Eliza said, her voice quiet but firm. “Because you are far too good for him. He’d be lucky to have you.”
Their assurance enveloped me, and for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe it.
Something shattered in the other room, and we heard a shout. Jo’s hand flew to her rounded belly. Concern flared in me. “Aren’t you scared?” I blurted out, motioning to her stomach. “To bring a baby into… all this?”
Jo’s laughter was a surprise, warm and unafraid. “Sometimes, yeah. I dream of a house with a yard, somewhere safe for little feet to run. But this place is home. Besides, where else would you get a bunch of tough bikers to change a diaper?”
The idea brought a genuine laugh from me. Maybe there was room here for new life, for hope amid the hardened exteriors.
It wasn’t traditional, but perhaps it was exactly what we needed.
“Actually.” Eliza’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced down at her own midsection. “I’m expecting too. We haven’t told anyone. Until now.”
My gaze snapped to her. “You are?”
Nodding, Eliza tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her movements gentle. “Cheshire knows. We’ve been talking about getting a little house close by. Someplace… just ours. But he’s worried. Being out there, even if it’s close… it could make us vulnerable.”
“Targets,” I whispered. The world outside these walls wasn’t kind. And March had said something about corrupt officials. Just how unsafe was the town of Warren? I’d thought, being such a small place, it would be more like those fifties TV shows.
“Exactly.” Her fingers traced an invisible line on the tabletop.
I thought of my own situation, the tiny heartbeat growing stronger inside me, the heartbeat that had driven me here, to this unlikely sanctuary. My voice wavered as I added my truth to theirs. “I’m pregnant too.”
Their heads turned, whiskey and sky-colored eyes meeting mine. A shared understanding passed between us -- three women, three futures taking shape beneath the protective shadow of the club.
“Does March know?” Jo’s question was gentle, but it pierced the heart of my deepest wishes.
“March?” I laughed, though it sounded more like a choke. “Yeah. He knows. But it’s not like the baby is his. He’s always been out of reach. Probably always will be.”
“But you’d like him to be the dad?” Eliza asked.
“Wouldn’t he be wonderful?” The admission spilled from me, a fantasy I’d nurtured in the quiet corners of my mind, never daring to give it voice until now. “I’ve always thought he was great with children. I don’t think he sees himself that way, though.”
“Violet.” Jo reached over, her hand warm atop mine. “You never know what might happen.”
“In this place, things have a way of surprising you.” Eliza smiled.
I shook my head. “In another life, maybe.”
But as I said it, I let myself steal a glance through the doorway, where March laughed with Cheshire and Hatter, so full of life and strength. And in that moment, foolish or not, I embraced the warmth that flooded through me, the ember of hope that refused to die. What if they were right? What if I really did have a chance?
Jo’s hand still rested gently on mine, and it felt like she was trying to anchor me. I looked around, taking in the clubhouse kitchen. It seemed homey, considering it belonged in a biker clubhouse. I wondered if these women had something to do with it, or if March and the others had decorated this place before the women came here.
Eliza’s eyes were soft with almost a haunted look to them. “This place changes you.”
“Changes how?” I asked.
“It gives you roots,” Jo interjected, her other hand resting on the swell of her belly. “And wings, all at once. The men are protective but try not to stifle us. At the same time, they want to keep us safe. Considering my past trauma, it doesn’t bother me, but to some it might seem smothering.”
“Roots and wings,” I repeated. Could I have that too if I stayed here? Would March even let me? These women were with Hatter and Cheshire. Things were different for them.
“Exactly,” she affirmed. “Here, you’re never just drifting. You’re part of something bigger.”
My heart swelled with gratitude that they seemed to be fine with me being part of the Underland MC family. Welcoming, even. The raucous laughter from the main room filtered through, not as a disruption but as a reminder of the vitality that thrummed through this place.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not sure if they understood just how deeply I meant it. The safety of this refuge enveloped me.
“Anytime,” Jo said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We stick together here.”
Eliza nodded in agreement, her hand mirroring Jo’s gesture. “We’ve all got scars. It’s what we do with them that counts.”
Scars. Yes, I had those -- some visible, most not. But here, among these women who’d seen their fair share of battles, I felt a kinship that went beyond common fears and whispered dreams. This was a sanctuary, a place where my vulnerability didn’t feel like a liability.
Resolve hardened within me. I would do more than survive. I would thrive -- for me, for the tiny life inside me. I would learn to navigate this world and find my place among them. Even if March wouldn’t let me stay indefinitely, it didn’t mean I had to leave Warren. I could remain in this town, be friends with these women, and start a new life. I wanted to become someone I could be proud of, and I really hoped I could be a good mom. I couldn’t blame my baby for their father’s part in their creation.
I got up and moved to the doorway, leaning against the frame. I watched March. His laughter blended with the cacophony of clinking glasses and a throaty engine somewhere nearby. Cheshire threw his head back, his grin slicing through the dim light. Beside him, Hatter’s chuckle rumbled like distant thunder.
The warmth spread from the core of my being, tingling in my fingertips. I sipped it in, this strange cocktail of affection and longing. It felt dangerous, addictive. March caught someone’s joke, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Seeing him like this, so carefree, stirred something in me. Something deep. When had I ever seen that expression on his face?
I bit down on my lip, tasting the ghost of a smile. What was this feeling? This pull toward him, magnetic and undeniable? If I’d had a crush on the man before, I was starting to worry I might be halfway in love with him now. Seeing this version of him made me want things I shouldn’t. I needed to remind myself that a life with March would probably never be more than just a dream.
But as I stood there, hidden in the shadows, March’s gaze swung in my direction. Our eyes locked. The air hitched in my throat, my heart skipped. In that split second of silence, I saw him. Not the biker, not my brother’s friend, but March. The boy who had always been there, blurred now into the man before me.
He nodded at me, a simple gesture that probably didn’t mean much to him, but right then I knew. It wasn’t just a crush that had tethered me to him all these years. It was more, much more.
Could I have loved him all along?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a secret thrill that danced across my skin. I looked away, cheeks burning. But inside, I held onto that look, that fleeting connection.
“Hey,” Jo called out softly from behind, pulling me from my reverie.
“Hey,” I managed back, still clutching the doorway for support.
“Come join us,” she urged, her hand gentle on my shoulder.
I glanced back at March, Cheshire, and Hatter -- the trio now embroiled in some animated story that had everyone around them leaning in. Strength coursed through me, a surge of courage borne from the women who’d welcomed me and the man who unknowingly held my heart.
“Okay,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of my resolution.
Whatever it took. Whatever my heart desired. I was ready. For the Underland MC, for my baby, for March.
And perhaps, just maybe, for love.