Prologue #3
"Shut up." He grabs my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "You're going to make this right. Tomorrow. And if you even think about not showing up..."
He pulls out his phone, shows me a photo—the hospital's physical therapy room.
Another photo—Bjorn in his wheelchair, taken from outside. "I know exactly where he'll be. Exactly when. My friend works security there. Cameras can malfunction. Accidents happen. Do you understand?"
I nod, unable to speak past the fear choking me.
"Good girl." He kisses my forehead, a mockery of affection. "Now go back inside. Smile. Act normal. And remember—I'm always watching."
He gets in his car, but before driving away, calls out loud enough for Astrid to hear: "This whole lockdown thing is getting old. You should come with me, babe."
"She's safer here," Astrid interjects, moving closer.
Dylan's eyes narrow at her interference. "Right. The boogeyman everyone's so scared of. Maybe if your club didn't make so many enemies?—"
"Dylan," I warn, panic rising. "Don't."
He raises his hands like throwing them up in surrender, "Whatever. Stay here then. But don't call me crying about being stuck in this place."
He peels out dramatically, leaving me shaking in the cold.
"Everly—" Astrid starts.
"Don't." The word comes out harsher than intended. "Just... not today, okay?"
I see the concern in her eyes, the words she wants to say.
But I can't handle her kindness right now, not when I'm barely holding myself together.
"I'm here," she says simply. "Whenever you're ready."
I nod and hurry inside, heading straight for the bathroom.
This time, the tears come.
Silent, painful tears for the woman I've become, for the danger I've brought to my family's door, for the choice I'll have to make tomorrow.
My phone buzzes relentlessly:
You have five minutes to apologize for embarrassing me.
Answer me, Everly.
Don't make me come back there.
I saw you walk inside without looking back. Ungrateful bitch.
Five. Fucking. Minutes.
I turn it off completely, hands shaking.
Let him stew.
I'll pay for this rebellion tomorrow, but right now, I need just a few minutes of peace.
When I finally emerge, the party has settled into what it always does on every big occasion.
Kids watching movies, adults talking quietly, the kind of family scene that makes my chest ache.
This is what normal looks like.
This is what I'll never have with Dylan.
I help with dishes, keeping busy, trying not to think about tomorrow.
About the red dress hanging in my closet like a threat.
About what Dylan will do to remind me who I belong to.
Starla appears as I head for the back door, needing air. "Where you going, honey?"
"Just need a minute."
She studies me, then deliberately pushes up my sleeve just enough to show the edge of a bruise. "Fall down the stairs?"
"I bruise easily," I whisper, pulling my sleeve down.
"So did I." Her voice is gentle, understanding. "Used to be clumsy as hell. Amazing how coordinated I got once I got away from my stepfather."
"It's not?—"
"Real love builds you up, honey. Doesn't tear you down." She squeezes my hand gently. "We protect our own here. Remember that."
But can you protect Bjorn?
Can you protect yourselves from what I've brought to your door?
The questions burn in my throat, but I can't voice them.
I nod and escape outside, where I find Regnor smoking on the deck.
"Gonna freeze out here," he says without looking at me.
"I'm fine."
"Sure you are." He takes a long drag. "None of my business, but that boyfriend of yours is a piece of shit."
The blunt statement surprises a laugh out of me. "You don't know him."
"Don't need to. Seen enough." He flicks ash over the railing. "Way he had his hand on you at dinner—controlling, not caring. Why do you flinch when he talks. Seen it before."
"I don't?—"
"My old man used to beat my mom. Said he loved her too much. Said that's why he got so jealous." Another drag. "Load of shit. Love doesn't leave bruises."
"What happened to her?"
"Died when I was twelve. He went too far one night." The ember of his cigarette glows in the darkness. "Swore I'd never be like him. Also swore I'd never stand by and watch it happen to someone else."
His words hang heavy between us.
This gruff biker sees through my act completely.
Sees what I've tried so hard to hide.
"I can handle it," I whisper.
"Sure you can. But you shouldn't have to." He stubs out his cigarette. "Offer stands, you know. Say the word, and that problem of yours disappears."
"You don't understand. He has connections. He knows things. If something happened to him?—"
"Then we'd handle that too." He looks at me directly. "That's what the club does, Everly. I won’t say it’s what family does, because know this, I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ family. I wanna be more than that."
He heads inside, leaving me alone with the truth of his words.
I shouldn't have to handle it.
Shouldn't have to live in fear.
Shouldn't have to choose between my safety and my family's.
My phone powers on automatically—a setting Dylan enabled so he can always reach me.
Twenty-seven messages.
Twelve missed calls.
The latest makes my stomach drop:
Your brother's not the only one without protection. Amazing how many kids are here. Accidents happen.
Then: That little girl with the pigtails is cute. Florencia? Rio's kid? Be a shame if she had an accident too.
No. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
But the photo attached—Florencia playing in the main room, taken through a window—proves he would.
He's watching. He's here.
But I know he would, know he's capable of anything.
I head back inside, forcing myself to smile, to act normal.
Tomorrow I'll go to him.
Wear the dress.
Pay whatever price he demands.
Keep everyone safe by keeping him satisfied.
But something has shifted tonight.
Between Starla's knowing looks and Regnor's bluntness, a tiny spark of defiance has lit in my chest.
I'm still too weak to fan it into a flame.
Still too scared to break free.
But for the first time in months, I can imagine a world where I'm not afraid.
Where bruises don't hide under long sleeves.
Where love doesn't come with threats and violence.
Someday, I tell myself.
Someday I'll be strong enough to trust them with the truth, strong enough to let them protect me.
Tonight, I'm still that frightened woman who'll answer when he calls.
But someday is getting closer.
And Dylan has no idea what he's awakened by threatening the people I love.