Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Jersey
A knock on the door has me jumping, the sudden sound echoing through the silence of the trailer like a thunderclap.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I freeze in place, my gaze locked on the wood of the door.
The roar of the bikes leaving the compound is still a fresh sound in my mind, a haunting reminder that Slayer and the brothers have ridden straight into a living nightmare.
The air in the living room feels stagnant, thick with the weight of the secrets I’ve shared and the lethal promises Slayer made before he vanished to join his brothers.
Slowly, I stand from the couch and inch my way toward the blinds, my movements fluid but cautious—a survival tactic I perfected in a house full of sickos.
I lower one of the slats with a trembling finger and peer out into the abrasive glare of the yard lights.
Relief washes over me like a cold wave when I see the women and kids standing there, a colorful cluster of safety against the gritty backdrop of the compound.
“We come in peace,” Letti hollers, her voice bright and full of the trademark sass that usually brings a smile to my face.
Kodiak and Scripture are standing behind them, providing a wall of silent protection.
One is rolling his eyes at Letti’s antics, and the other is looking up toward the dark sky, where I presume he’s praying for patience with the lot of us.
I fumble with the locks, my fingers clumsy in my haste to let the world in and drown out the suffocating quiet of my own thoughts.
As the door swings open, the humid night air rushes in, carrying the scent of leather and a mix of perfumes.
Letti is the first one across the threshold, her presence an immediate grounding force that makes the trailer feel less like a fortress and more like a home again.
Behind her, Van, Zoey, and Britton follow, their faces etched with a mirroring blend of worry and resolve.
We aren’t just neighbors tonight, we’re a unit of old ladies, hunkered down to wait out the crusade that’s currently being waged at the councilwoman’s estate.
“We figured nobody should be alone tonight,” Britton says, reaching out to squeeze my hand as she passes me.
Her touch is warm, a silent acknowledgement of the shared history that makes us sisters.
She knows I’m still navigating the uncertainty of my parents’ threats, just as she’s navigating the uncertainty of her impending motherhood.
I watch as Elodie scrambles toward the back of the trailer with little man crawling fast to get to her, their laughter a beautiful contrast to the mission the men are on.
In this cramped space, surrounded by the women who have become my sisters, the isolation that once defined my life feels like a distant memory.
As Kodiak and Scripture step inside, they shut the door and lock it, standing in front of it like our personal guards.
Kodiak maintains a vigilant watch with his arms crossed over his chest, while Scripture’s eyes remain fixed on the entryway, his lips moving in what I can only assume is a silent plea for the safe return of his brothers.
“So we’re going to wait things out here together, huh?” I ask, my voice sounding more steady than I feel as I look around the room.
“That’s the plan,” Van says as she settles down onto the couch, grabbing my throw from the back and tossing it over her legs.
Britton and Zoey plop down on my love seat, Letti taking up the recliner as she pops the cork on a bottle of wine and holds it up, and says, “I brought the bubbly, need you to provide the glasses.” She manages to offer a small, determined grin, her resilience shining through despite the fact that Icer is currently part of a tactical strike into the heart of the Dragons’ territory.
I pivot on my heels, making my way into the cramped kitchen area to snag the stemware.
Fortunately, my inventory is sufficient for the rest of us, especially since Zoey and Britton are sitting this round out due to the little ones they’re currently growing.
This mundane task of playing hostess, even while the men are off doing their thing, offers a much-needed distraction for my frantic thoughts.
“Zoey. Britton, what would y’all like to drink?
” I ask as I open the fridge door, the cool air hitting my face as I scan my limited inventory.
“I’ve got water, apple juice, and that’s about all since you can’t have caffeine.
I know how picky those little ones can be about their sugar intake even before they get here.
” I offer them a shy smile, watching as they settle into the mismatched furniture of my living room that I’ve lovingly put together to make our home feel warm and cozy.
Zoey snorts before saying, “Yeah, all that sugar makes this one dance on my bladder.” She shifts uncomfortably on the love seat, resting a hand on her stomach. “Water is fine for me, Jersey. Any more jostling and I’ll be spending the whole night in your bathroom.”
“What I wouldn’t do for a Coke,” Britton dreamily says.
“I’d trade my kidney for a cold can and a straw right about now.
But for the sake of the little bean, I’ll settle for the juice,” Britton says, accompanied by a sigh.
She leans her head back against the cushion, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and that familiar pregnancy craving.
The way she says it makes it sound like she’s negotiating with a deity for just one sip of that carbonated heaven.
I arrange the glasses along the laminate counter, filling the flutes with the sparkling wine for Letti, Van, and myself, all while ensuring the alcohol-free choices are ready for our pregnant sisters.
The chime of the liquid meeting the glass echoes through the cramped kitchen has my mouth watering.
This attempt at casual banter feels like a paper-thin barricade, but I’m desperate for any sliver of quiet before the thunder of the motorcycles signals the men’s return.
With every groan of the floorboards or gust of wind rattling the metal siding, my pulse spikes with a frantic energy, terrified and hopeful that the takedown at the councilwoman's mansion has finally reached its conclusion.
I snort, catching my sister from another mister’s eye, and huff, “A kidney? Seriously, Brit?” Even with the dread churning in my stomach, I can’t stop the smirk that pulls at my mouth.
She’s always had a penchant for being over the top, but this pregnancy has her dialing up the drama to another level altogether.
“Pretty sure the little bean would rather you hang onto your organs so you can process all this juice I’m handing over,” I tease, offering her the glass with a wink.
“One day,” Britton says, rubbing her baby bump, “you’ll understand what this is like.”
“Oh, no, sister,” I hiss. “Don’t put that juju on me. I’m not ready, and I won’t be for a long time coming.”
“Double up on your birth control if you’re not ready to be a momma, because these men’s sperm is potent,” Zoey says, laughing.
“Warning heard,” I say as I sit at Zoey’s feet.
“Should the guys have told us what they were up to tonight? Doesn’t that go against club business?
” I look around the room, seeing the way the other women have settled in for the long haul.
The silence from the clubhouse has been a physical weight all evening, and the curiosity I’ve been trying to suppress finally bubbles over.
I know club business is sacred, a vault that rarely opens for the women, but the stakes tonight feel personal for all of us.
Kodiak clears his throat, answering, “Technically, yeah, it’s club business, Jersey.
But when it involves a major shift like the one we’re planning for Patrick and the Dragons, Riptide knows that y’all need to be prepared for the fallout.
He doesn’t keep you in the dark to be an asshole, he does it because knowing the details puts a target on your back that he’d rather carry himself. ”
Scripture adds on to his brother’s explanation, his voice dropping to a low, melodic rumble that carries the weight of a sermon.
“If y’all are in the know, then you can react appropriately, but only to a point.
” His eyes remain fixed on the entryway, vigilant and unblinking.
“There’ll be times you’ll know what they’re up to, but only when it’s necessary for your survival.
It’s better for y’all to feign ignorance than to have knowledge of things that can be used against you in a court of law or at the end of an enemy’s barrel.
In this life, truth is a heavy burden, and the less of it you carry, the lighter your feet are when you have to run. ”
“So sometimes we’ll know more than others?” I ask, hoping he’ll expand on his commentary. The logic of it makes sense, but the reality of living in a perpetual state of partial truths has my skin prickling with a restless energy.
Scripture finally shifts his gaze from the door, his eyes softening as they find mine.
There’s a kindness in his expression that’s always been at odds with the leather patch on his back, a depth of understanding that comes from hearing the confessions of men who live on the edge of morality.
“That’s exactly right, Jersey. It’s a delicate balance Riptide and the rest of the brothers have to consider.
They want you informed enough to stay alert but sheltered enough to stay safe.
” He leans back against the doorframe, his presence solid, and calming.
“Knowledge in this world is like a double-edged sword. It can be your best defense, but it can also be the thing that cuts the deepest when the feds or our enemies come knocking. If you don’t know the specifics of a deal or the location of something we’ve stashed, you can’t tell them anything, even under the most intense pressure.
Your ignorance isn’t a lack of respect, it’s a layer of security. ”
“Thank you,” I say, the words feeling heavy with a sincerity I’m only just beginning to master.
I look around the room at the circle of women who have become my lifeline, seeing the way they carry the weight of this world with such effortless grace.
“You’ve made things make sense and have helped me look at it in a different light.
For so long, I thought the only way to be safe was to know every exit and every possible threat, but hearing you explain it… well, it makes it easier to digest.”
I release a weighted breath that’s been trapped in my lungs since the very second the roar of the bikes faded beyond the compound.
The terror that usually slices through me has settled into a dull, manageable throb, dampened by the unyielding resolve of the sisters huddled around me.
I’m starting to grasp that within the Kings’ circle, trust is more than just an emotion—it’s a layer of protection.
It’s a mind-boggling shift for a woman who spent her life moored by hyper-vigilance, but watching Van, Letti, and Britton, I finally see the tranquility that comes with handing that weight over to the men built to carry the burden.
“It’s not blind faith, Jersey,” Van adds, her voice soft but carrying the authority of a President’s old lady.
“It’s earned faith. These men have proven time and again that they’ll bleed to keep the world from touching us.
Letting them handle the darkness while we maintain the light... that’s how we survive.”
I nod, absorbing her wisdom like a sponge.
The internal war between my need for facts and my need for Slayer is finally reaching a ceasefire.
I may not know exactly what’s happening at the councilwoman’s estate tonight, but I know the man who is leading the charge, and for the first time in my life, that is more than enough.
A sense of peace settles over me. It’s time for me to grow and trust—two things I’ve held at an arm’s length for one reason or another.