Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
When we arrive back at the clubhouse, the brothers are in full celebration mode. Marcus’ photograph sits on the mantle now, honored properly the way he should have been from the start. The weight of that secret, of protecting Victoria by hiding the truth, has finally lifted.
A round of celebratory drinks is being shared as we enter the room. Ro steps up to Victoria and me as we walk into the middle of the clubroom. “Beer for you, Pres, and something sweeter for you… wait! I can’t call you Lizzie anymore,” Ro says to Victoria, handing her some fruity-looking drink.
Victoria takes the drink from Ro with a warm smile. “How about Vicky?” she offers as a compromise, and Ro lights up.
“Oh, thank God you’re sticking around. I was going to have a full meltdown if you were gonna leave us, Vicky…
” she pauses, scrunches up her face, and shakes her head.
“Vicky feels too ‘good girl’ for you. How about Vicks?” Ro’s eyes light up, and she nods her head in her own approval.
“Yes! That’s the one. You happy with that, Vicks? ”
I raise my brow at all this, while Victoria simply smiles and leans out, pulling Ro in for a tight hug. Ro beams from ear to ear, hugging Victoria back. “How the hell could I give this place up? I love you all too much.” They pull apart, and Ro glances over her shoulder at Gia.
“See, Gia, she loves me. Told you it was only a matter of time.” Ro winks at Victoria, then takes off back to the bar to get more drinks.
I wrap my arm around my Old Lady while she chuckles beside me. “Happy?” I ask her.
“Ecstatically.”
I lean in to kiss her, as someone starts clinking on the side of a glass, making us break apart. I let out an audible groan. “Fucking timing,” I mumble under my breath, making Victoria giggle beside me.
“To Marcus!” Ghost raises his glass, and the room echoes with the toast.
“To Marcus,” Victoria whispers beside me, tears shining in her eyes.
I pull her close, and she fits against me like she was designed to be there.
Maria stands awkwardly near the bar, still in her professional clothes, looking as out of place as a cop can look in a biker clubhouse.
But she’s here.
My mother is here.
“Brothers,” I call out, and the room quiets. “This is Maria. My mother. Chief Detective Maria Moretti.”
Their heads all nod, and then the respect comes, because she helped save us. She put her career on the line to take down Rourke and the Alliance.
Nitro nods at her from across the room. Even he can’t argue with results.
Maria crosses to me, and we share a moment that’s still strange, still fragile, but real. “I’m proud of you, Diesel. Of what you’ve built here.”
The word feels foreign on my tongue, but I say it anyway. “Thanks, Ma.”
Her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t let fall, and she squeezes my shoulder before stepping back.
We have a lot of years to catch up on, and the road to reconciliation won’t be paved overnight, but I am sure that with time, we can build our relationship back again.
Later, when the celebration has mellowed into easy conversation and laughter, I find Nitro out front of the clubhouse with his flute. The melody he’s playing is melancholy, haunting, processing everything that’s happened.
“You good, brother?” I sit beside him.
He lowers the flute, quiet for a moment before speaking, “You let Ghost in on it.”
I don’t pretend not to know what he means. “Yeah.”
“I’m your right-hand man.” There’s no heat in his voice, just hurt. “And you kept me in the dark about Elizabeth being Victoria. About her being a cop.”
“Nitro—”
“I get it was delicate, Sin. I do. But that’s what stings, you know? I’m supposed to be the one you trust with the delicate shit.” He turns to look at me. “Instead, I’m standing there at church like everyone else, finding out our reporter’s been a cop this whole damn time.”
The guilt I’ve been carrying twists deeper. “You’re right. And I felt like shit about it the entire time.”
“Then why?”
“Because it had to be real.” I lean forward, with my elbows on my knees.
“She needed to genuinely believe she was infiltrating us. That the club had no idea who she was. If anyone, anyone, gave her even the slightest cause to think we were onto her, the whole thing unravels. We don’t get her on our side, we don’t take down Rourke, and the Alliance keeps fucking us in the ass. ”
Nitro’s quiet, processing everything I’ve said.
“I kept Ghost in the loop because he was already involved. He’d scrubbed her files for me, so I had to fill him in.
But you?” I meet his eyes. “I needed you doing exactly what you do best. Running the club, keeping shit together, being genuine. If you’d known and had to pretend around her, she might have picked up on it.
She’s a cop, brother. She’s trained to spot tells. ”
“So, you sacrificed my trust to sell the con.”
“I did.” I don’t look away. “And I hated every second of keeping you out, but I couldn’t risk the whole play. We needed her to believe, to choose us, to help us flip this whole thing on Rourke.”
Nitro exhales slowly, turning the flute over in his hands. “You could’ve told me after. Before Church.”
“You’re right. I should have.” I stand, facing him squarely. “Look, I fucked up keeping you out that long. But I swear to you, Nitro, you are my right-hand man. I depend on you more than you know. And I will never leave you out of club decisions again. Never!”
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods slowly.
“We good?”
A smile touches his lips. “Yeah, Pres. We’re good.”
The tightness in my chest eases. “Heavy thoughts for a Wednesday night.”
Nitro stands, stretching. “Think I’m gonna go for a drive. Clear my head.”
“Uber shift?”
“Yeah.” He pockets the flute. “Helps me process, you know? The road, even in a car, it centers me. Hearing other people’s stories, socializing with civilians who aren’t trying to murder us or put us behind bars. Just everyday people who don’t look at me for the cut I wear, you know?”
I let out a long exhale, gripping his shoulder.
“I get it. The leather cut brings unwanted attention, and whether you like to admit it or not, Nitro… you’re a fucking people person.
You like being in the company of people.
So, I don’t care if you need to fill your cup by picking up Uber shifts.
It’s all good with me, brother. Whatever keeps your brain clear. ”
“Thanks, Pres… but you know I’m locked in, my focus is the club.” His eyes narrow on me like he’s concerned that I am questioning his loyalty.
“Was never any doubt. All right, brother, check in with me when you get back.”
He simply nods, then takes off into the parking lot for his car. I stand watching him leave, then when I turn for the clubhouse doors, Victoria is standing there, arms crossed, patiently waiting for me. “How much of that did you hear?”
“All of it,” she states, striding out to meet me.
“But it’s okay… I know I put a fracture through the clubhouse.
I came in under false pretenses, and it was a fucking shitty thing to do.
But, I am your Old Lady now, not a cop, in any way, shape, or form, and my first duty as your Old Lady is to win over every single brother in this club and make them adore me. ”
I slide my arm around her waist and pull her close to me, pressing a light kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry, wildcat. It won’t take them long to love you.”
VICTORIA
Four Months Later
The classroom at UNLV is bright with afternoon sun streaming through the windows. My notebook is open, filled with notes about subcultures, about the stories that exist beneath the surface of society. About the truth that people are afraid to tell.
“Miss Delaney,” my professor says, stopping by my desk. “Your work on motorcycle culture has been exceptional. Have you considered publishing?”
I smile, glancing at the pages of my manuscript—the real story of the Las Vegas Defiance MC, told with honesty and respect. “Working on it, actually. It’s a long story.”
After class, I pack my things and head outside. Sin is waiting in the parking lot, leaning against his bike with his arms crossed, all leather and danger and completely mine.
When he sees me, his face transforms, that rare, genuine smile he saves only for me.
“How was your day, wildcat?” he asks.
I slide behind him on the bike, my arms wrapping around his waist, and I fit there like I was always meant to. “My professor thinks I should publish my story on Las Vegas Defiance.”
Sin peers over his shoulder at me. “Oh, does he now?”
“Mm-hmm… says it’s exceptional no less.”
His grin widens. “Of course it is. It’s about me, baby.”
I let out a booming laugh as I slap his arm. “Go on, asshole. Start the damn bike!”
His chest jostles with his laughter as the engine roars to life, and he takes off like a bat out of hell. We ride toward the clubhouse, toward the desert, toward home. Where the brothers finally adore me and have accepted me as the First Lady of the club.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not running from my past or chasing ghosts.
I’m exactly where I belong.
At Las Vegas Defiance MC.