Chapter 29
Sophie
The Lockup smells like beer, sweat, leather, and whatever the hell the boys cooked in the kitchen earlier. Legend’s arm is heavy across my shoulders as he steers me through the crowd toward the bar, proud as a man showing off a prize he finally caught.
“Knew that cut would look good on you,” he murmurs against my ear, and I warm all over at the sound of it.
Biker’s doing everything he can to get in my pants again. And I’m being nice. Because I talked to Becki. Because she agreed to at least think about helping me catch her father in the act. Because I almost believe she’s not trying to take the club down and force Legend back to her.
Almost. And I know it’s foolish.
Truth is, I miss my biker, and the fun that comes with him.
The cut is too big. Heavy. Smells faintly like his cologne and his Harley, and it keeps slipping off one shoulder. Across the back in big white block letters it reads, Property of Legend.
Tonight, he made a new addition.
He uncaps the Sharpie he stole from Oaks earlier and grabs the hem of my T-shirt. “Hold still.”
“I swear to God, Hudson Welles, if you write something stupid…”
He writes something true.
Ol’ Lady To Be
In huge, crooked letters across my chest like he’s tagging a building.
The brothers roar with laughter. Rye actually claps.
Legend kisses the marker stain just above the writing. “Perfect.”
He is smug. I’m tipsy. We are disgustingly happy. Despite our guest. For just a moment.
I shove his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “But I’m yours.”
I roll my eyes and head toward the bathroom before I pee myself. Too much bourbon, not enough dignity left in me to argue.
The women’s room door sticks halfway, and I have to shoulder into it. The light flickers like in a horror movie. I’m already mentally composing my lecture to the boys about cleaning this place more than once a century.
I drop onto the toilet with a relieved sigh, reach blindly for the toilet paper. And grab something warm.
And soft.
And… moving.
A low grunt comes from inside the wall.
I shriek so loud I scare myself. The roll holder shifts, and the drywall panel in front of me bumps outward just a hair.
Oh my God.
Oh my actual God.
I rip my hand back and stare at it like it betrayed me. Then I stare at the wall.
The wall stares back. Or, well… something inside it does.
There is a hole.
A purposeful hole.
A hole for a purpose I can now very unfortunately confirm.
“No. No. No.” I yank my pants up so fast I almost fall over. “Absolutely not, this is cursed.”
I stumble out of the bathroom, hands held in front of me like they’re radioactive.
Legend turns at the sound of my panicked footfalls. His brows lift. “Princess?”
I point at the bathroom. “There’s a penis in there.”
The whole clubhouse goes silent for half a second.
Then Whiskey spits his drink.
Legend’s jaw drops. “What?”
“A penis. In the wall. Where the toilet paper should be. I grabbed it. With my bare hand.” My voice cracks. “With. My. Bare. Hand.”
Whiskey is already swaying over, drunk as sin and waving both hands. “Sophie, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. So very sorry. Never go in the last stall. That’s the old glory hole. We ain’t used that thing since, shit, I don’t even know. Oaks’ bachelor party? Maybe?”
“Oaks?” I gag. “I need bleach. I need a fire. I need to burn my hand off.”
Legend’s face is stuck between horrified and trying not to laugh. “Did you, did it, did someone…”
“Yes, Legend. Someone.” I slap his chest with my offended, contaminated hand. “Your clubhouse just assaulted me.”
Whiskey gasps. “It wasn’t the club! It was probably just, well, alright, okay, maybe it was the club at some point, but…”
I glare at him. “Whiskey.”
He lifts his palms, swaying. “I’m apologizing, ma’am. Truly. Deeply. From the bottom of my liquor-soaked soul.”
Legend grabs my wrist gently, inspecting my hand like it’s broken. “You okay?”
“I’m about to pee on myself, that’s what I am.” I yank away. “But I can’t use the bathroom because there is a dick in the wall. So now I have to wash my hands, except the sink is three feet from the dick-wall, and I don’t trust anything in there!”
Whiskey laughs. Then claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Some brother must’ve been waiting for a bunny.”
Legend swings toward him, growling, “If you don’t shut up…”
Whiskey backs up with his hands up. “I’m tryin’, Prez, but damn, this is the funniest shit ever. Sophie got introduced to the Lockup proper for once. I’m glad it wasn’t my dick.”
Legend scoops me up like I weigh nothing. “Come on. We’re washing your hands in my room.”
“Better have soap.” I point at the bathroom. “You burn that room to the ground, Hudson.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Salt the earth.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And find out whose dick that was and ban him from ever coming within fifty feet of me again.”
The entire room goes, “Yes, ma’am,” in ragged unison.
Legend kisses the top of my head as he carries me out of the chaos.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs.
And somehow, even covered in Sharpie and glory-hole trauma, I feel it.
I really am.
Someone calls his name and Legend sits me down in the hall.
“I’ll be back.” He rolls his eyes as he leaves. I head to his room. But Royal leaves Becki’s room looking like he’s been flayed alive. He almost bumps into me as he storms out and gives me a look like he wants me dead.
I slip into the doorway before it closes.
Becki stands against the wall, breathless, flushed, hair wild, lips swollen. And I know.
Not in detail.
Not in action.
But in energy.
Royal didn’t just interrogate her.
He broke. She broke him. Her eyes meet mine. Slow. Knowing. Infuriating.
“Well?” she says softly. “Come to finish what he couldn’t?”
I step inside and shut the door behind me.
The chain clinks as she shifts, just slightly.
“You think you’re clever,” I say.
She tilts her head. “No. Just cornered.”
“Cornered animals bite.”
“Good thing I’m used to bleeding.”
I take one slow step toward her.
And another.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t look away.
“You ruin everything you touch,” I tell her.
“Legend touched me first,” she replies, cutting and soft.
I slap the wall beside her head. She flinches but doesn’t retreat.
“You want Legend?” I whisper.
“You want him?”
“You want to tear this club in half?”
“No,” she breathes. “I want to live.”
For the first time, she looks like a wounded girl.
Not a threat.
Not a rival.
Just scared.
I hate that it makes me soften.
“We can help each other,” I say quietly. “Or we can destroy each other.”
“Same outcome,” she whispers. “Different path.”
She leans closer. Her voice drops. “You want the truth, Sophie? I don’t hate you.
I envy you. Well, I did. You got out of that church.
Your family did. You built a life. I got Legend and his life.
I never had the chance to become someone he would want.
I’m what he made me. So, maybe I don’t envy you.
It’s your turn to become a hole that Legend will never fill. ”
It hits harder than any insult she ever threw.
“But I need you,” she whispers. “You’re the only one who hates my daddy enough to tear down his kingdom.”
I swallow.
Then I nod.
“If I could get out, I’d look in mama’s old office.”
A small, sharp alliance is born.
Forged in hate, jealousy, and shared fear.
And it feels like sin.
Legend
Royal’s shaken. Sophie’s pacing. The entire club is not right.
So I go to her room. Just to check on her. That’s what I tell myself.
Becki sits on the mattress, eyes red from crying or fury. Probably both.
“You shouldn't be here,” she whispers.
“I know.”
Silence cracks between us.
“You’ve been out, finding shit. In the cemetery.”
“You remember the cemetery,” she murmurs.
“Years ago.” I do. Too well.
“The first time of so many. You never kissed me,” she says. “Not back then.”
“You never asked.”
“You fucked me but never kissed me.” Her lip trembles.
“I was a nearly a kid. I was terrified.”
“Of me?”
“Of how much I wanted you.”
“You knew you weren’t my first. You didn’t make it special.”
Becki claimed men in the church raped her. I never believed her until seeing that basement. “And your daddy found out. Remember that?”
“Yeah, I do. Because that mare ain’t the only thing buried behind the church.”
Her speaking it makes it real.
The secret we share. The baby we lost. My lie to Sophie. My heart punches my ribs. I kneel in front of her without thinking.
“Our baby is the only reason Daddy didn’t sell me to the highest bidder.”
“You’ve known about this stuff.”
“Folks say I’m crazy. You’ve always said it.” Her knee brushes me. Her breath warms my mouth. “You promised me we’d have another.”
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Don’t even try to manipulate me anymore.”
“Why not?” she breathes.
“We were young. We moved on.” Even as I say the words, I realize how cruel I’ve been to her. Dismissing her always.
“I told her,” she says, speaking of Sophie.
“She won’t believe you.”
Her eyes close. Tears fall. And I almost do it. Almost kiss her to dry her tears. I almost cross the line I swore I’d never even look at.
But Sophie’s face flashes through my mind. I jerk back. Becki’s breath breaks. A sound like heartbreak swallowed whole.
“You destroy everything,” she whispers. “You’re fire, Legend.”
And I know it’s true.
Sophie
Legend comes into our room late. He looks wrong. Guilty.
I already know where he’s been.
With her.
“Hell, Legend. Did you fuck her or something?” I ask.
“No.”
It’s the truth. But not the whole truth.
“Do you want to?” He doesn’t answer. That’s the answer.
I shove him. He takes my wrist. I shove harder. He pins me to the wall.
“No. I don’t want to fuck her. I want to fuck my fiancée.”
I pull away. He falls asleep.
Becki
Royal is gone. Sophie is gone. Legend is gone.
The hallway vibrates with club noise. I hear footsteps.
Oaks.
He leans in the doorway, drunk smile, eyes too sharp.
“Heard you been sneaking out,” he drawls.
“Heard you know things.”
“I don’t.”
“You know enough.”
He steps closer.
Too close.
“Oaks,” I warn.
He takes hold of my chin.
“You’re causing trouble, preacher’s girl.”
Before he can finish.
A shadow hits him from behind.
Royal slams him into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.
Oaks chokes on surprise.
Royal snarls.
A sound I’ve never heard from a human throat.
“Touch her again,” he growls. “And I’ll cut your hands off.”
Oaks spits blood and stumbles away.
Royal turns to me.
Eyes wild.
Breath ragged.
Hands shaking.
“You’re mine to deal with,” he tells me.
“Not theirs.”
He clutches my jaw and kisses me.
Then rips himself away like it physically injures him.
“This is the last time,” he lies.
We both know it’s only the beginning.