Chapter 17 Bonnie
BONNIE
My stomach lurches before I’m fully awake.
I bolt upright in Ghost’s bed, hand clamped over my mouth, and barely make it to my old bathroom before the nausea wins. I slam the door behind me and drop to my knees in front of the toilet, retching until there’s nothing left.
When the heaving finally stops, I slump against the cool tile wall and press my forehead to my knees. Sweat beads on my skin despite the chill of the bathroom floor. My whole body trembles.
This is the third morning in a row.
The realization hits me like a fist to the gut. Three mornings. Three times waking up sick. The breast tenderness Ghost noticed last night. The exhaustion that’s been dragging at me for weeks.
No.
I push to my feet and grip the edge of the sink. My reflection stares back, pale and hollow-eyed. When was my last period?
I count backward. The cabin.
Nothing since then.
“Fuck.” The word comes out as a whisper.
My hands shake as I splash cold water on my face. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not with everything else falling apart around us.
I need to know for sure.
I grab my phone from where I left it charging in my old room and scroll to Snake’s number. My thumb hovers over the call button. It’s barely seven in the morning, but Snake’s always been an early riser.
He answers on the third ring. “Bonnie? You okay?”
“I need a favor.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Can you not ask questions?”
A pause. “What kind of favor?”
“The kind where Louie goes to the drugstore and buys something for me. Something I can’t get myself because I can’t let it get traced back to me.”
Another pause, longer this time. When Snake speaks again, his voice is careful. “What do you need?”
“A pregnancy test.”
Silence stretches between us. I can practically hear his brain working, putting pieces together. How long I’ve been with Ash. The timeline. The implications.
“Shit, kid.”
“Please don’t lecture me. I just need to know if I’m right.”
“I’m not lecturing. Give me an hour. I’ll have Louie drop it off at the front gate. Tell whoever’s on duty it’s tattoo supplies for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Bonnie.” His voice softens. “Whatever that test says, you’re gonna be okay. You hear me?”
My throat tightens. “I hear you.”
I end the call and sink onto my old bed.
I press a hand to my stomach. Flat still. But something might be growing in there.
It could be Ash’s. Or Ghost’s. Or Titan’s.
Or Marcus Stone’s.
The nausea returns with a vengeance. I barely make it back to the toilet before I’m retching again, this time bringing up nothing but bile and panic.
Marcus pulled out. I remember that clearly through the haze of alcohol and fear. He spilled on my stomach, not inside me. The chances of pregnancy from that are slim.
But not impossible.
I rinse my mouth and return to my bed. An hour feels like an eternity. I try to distract myself with my phone, scrolling through nothing, seeing nothing, just counting minutes until I can know for sure.
The minutes crawl past. I pace my room. Sit on the bed. Stand again. My mind won’t shut up, running through every possibility, every outcome, every worst-case scenario.
What if it’s Marcus’s? What if I have to carry that monster’s child? What if Ash, Ghost, and Titan can’t stand to look at me once they know?
What if they leave me?
The thought makes my chest tighten. I’ve gotten used to them. Used to Ash’s protective presence, Ghost’s quiet strength, Titan’s playful warmth. Used to feeling wanted and safe and like I matter.
If this baby is Marcus’s, all of that could disappear.
I check my phone. Forty-five minutes have passed. Fifteen more to go.
A text from Snake comes through at 8:03. Louie’s at the gate. The package is wrapped in brown paper and looks like ink supplies. The guard said he’ll bring it to your room.
I slip into the hallway and head for the stairs. The clubhouse is still quiet. Ghost must still be passed out.
Miller waves at me from the couch. “Morning, Bonnie. You look like hell.”
“Thanks. You’re a real charmer.”
He grins. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just waiting for a delivery.”
Five minutes later, a prospect appears with a brown paper package. “This came for you. Guy at the gate said it was urgent.”
“Thanks.” I take the package and head back upstairs, walking fast but not running.
Back in my bathroom, I lock the door and tear open the package. Inside are three pregnancy tests and a note in Louie’s neat handwriting.
Got you three different brands just in case. Snake says call if you need anything. We’re here for you. - L
My eyes burn. I blink hard and pull out the first test.
The instructions blur in front of me. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes, check for lines.
My hands shake as I unwrap the first test. The plastic feels foreign in my palm, this tiny thing that’s about to change everything. I follow the instructions mechanically. Pee on the stick. Cap it. Set it on the counter.
Then the second one. Then the third.
Three tests lined up in a row like soldiers waiting to deliver news.
I set my phone timer for three minutes and sink to the floor with my back against the tub. The tile is cold through my thin sleep shirt. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
One hundred and eighty seconds.
My mind won’t stop racing. When I picture Ash’s protective hands on my stomach, or Ghost’s quiet strength, or Titan’s playful grin at the idea of being a dad, it doesn’t feel like a disaster.
It feels almost right.
Then Marcus’s face flashes through my mind, and my stomach turns.
I felt him spill across my stomach, hot and unwanted, marking me like an animal marks territory. So it’s probably not his.
But if it is—
I can’t finish the thought. Can’t let myself imagine carrying that monster’s child.
Can’t picture explaining to Ash, Ghost, and Titan that the baby might belong to the man they hate most in this world.
The man who destroyed Ash’s entire family.
The man who’s been terrorizing our territory for decades.
The man who forced me into his bed and took what I didn’t want to give.
My breath comes faster. The bathroom feels smaller. I press my forehead to my knees and force myself to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
Marcus pulled out. The timeline makes sense for the cabin. All three of them finished inside me that night. The probability is overwhelmingly in favor of one of them being the father.
But probability isn’t certainty.
The timer goes off, and I jump. Three minutes already.
I can’t look.
I force myself to stand. Force myself to pick up the first test.
Two pink lines.
Positive.
The second test. A plus sign.
Positive.
The third test. The word “PREGNANT” in clear digital letters.
Positive. Positive. Positive.
The tests clatter into the sink. I grip the counter with both hands and stare at my reflection. Same pale face. Same green eyes. Same freckles scattered across my nose.
But everything’s different now.
I’m pregnant.
One of them is the father.
Or Marcus.
Jesus.
A baby. I’m going to have a baby.
In the middle of a war. With three men who share me like I’m some kind of prize. With a father in federal prison and a brother states away building his own chapter. With enemies who want me dead and a marriage that started as a strategy.
My mind slips into my past without my permission.
We lived in a different house back then, in the old compound before Dad expanded and built the new wing. I was twelve.
Mom’s hands shook as she unwrapped the pregnancy test. I sat on the edge of the tub, watching her pace in the tiny space. She wouldn’t let me leave. Wanted me there for some reason, maybe because she was scared and Dad was out on a run, and she didn’t want to be alone.
“How long do we wait?” I asked.
“Three minutes.” Her voice was tight. “Feels like forever, doesn’t it?”
I nodded even though I didn’t really understand what we were waiting for. Just knew it was important. Knew Mom looked pale and sick and scared in a way I’d never seen before.
The test came back positive.
She cried. Not happy tears—the other kind. The kind that came with shaking hands and a voice that kept saying “Not again, not again, not again.”
I didn’t understand then. Thought maybe she was sick.
“Mom?” I touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe. “I’m fine, baby. Just surprised.”
Liar.
A month later, she started bleeding. Dad and Jackal carried her to the car while she screamed. I watched from my bedroom window, too scared to go downstairs. Too young to understand what miscarriage meant, but old enough to know something was dying.
She came home three days later. Quiet. Empty. It was like someone had scooped out everything that made her Mom and left behind a shell.
Dad tried. He bought her flowers. Cooked her favorite meals. Held her while she stared at the walls and didn’t cry because she’d used up all her tears in the hospital.
“The stress,” I heard him tell Ash’s dad one night. “The violence. She can’t take it anymore. This life is killing her.”
Four months later, her heart gave out. Just stopped. The doctor said it was a heart attack. Dad said it was the club. The constant fear. The baby she lost. The life she never wanted.
I was twelve years old watching them lower my mother into the ground, and all I could think was that the baby went first. The one she didn’t want but tried to love anyway. The one this life killed before it even had a chance.
Now I’m sitting on a bathroom floor with three positive tests, and Mom’s voice echoes in my head.
Not again, not again, not again.
I press my palm flat against my stomach.
What if I lose it like Mom did? What if the stress and the violence and the constant fear do to me what they did to her?
What if I can’t protect this baby any better than she could protect hers?
My throat closes. I can’t breathe. Can’t think past the image of Mom’s face when she came home from the hospital—hollow and broken and already halfway to the grave.
I don’t want that. I don’t want this baby to die before I even get to meet it.
But I don’t know how to stop it from happening. Don’t know how to survive in a world that killed my mother and might kill me too.