Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DELILAH
T he drive to my father’s old house was quiet, the hum of the engine doing little to calm the storm in my chest. I hadn’t been here in months, not since his death, and the closer I got, the heavier the memories felt. It was the one place that had always been the same. And right now, I needed that more than ever.
Pulling into the gravel driveway, I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the house. The familiar white siding was peeling in places, and the porch steps creaked under the weight of time. It looked the same but different—like it had aged without him, just like I had.
I stepped out of the car, the chill of the evening air biting at my skin. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, a small gesture of reassurance as I made my way up the steps. The creak of the wood under my boots echoed in the silence, and I reached for the doorknob, the key already in my hand.
But when I pushed the door open, I froze.
Axel was sitting in the worn recliner in the living room, his boots propped up on the coffee table like he owned the place. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curling lazily into the air. He didn’t even look surprised to see me. If anything, he looked annoyed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharp as I stepped into the room. My hand tightened on the strap of my bag, my heart pounding in my chest.
He took a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash onto the floor. “Nice to see you too, little sister,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Word travels fast when you’re keeping an eye on the Reapers. Didn’t take long to hear you’d made an appearance.”
I glared at him, my anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re having me followed?”
“We always have someone watching the Reapers,” he said with a shrug. “And you just happened to walk into their clubhouse, so yeah, I heard about it.”
I dropped my bag onto the floor with a thud, my hands balling into fists. “This has nothing to do with you, Axel. You had no right to come here.”
“No, right?” He stood, his full height making the room feel smaller. “You’re my sister, and you’re pregnant with a Reaper’s kid. You think I’m just going to sit back and let that slide? What the hell were you thinking, Delilah?”
“It’s none of your damn business who the father is,” I shot back, my voice shaking with anger. “This is my life, Axel. Not yours. And you don’t get to waltz in here and act like you have a say.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Dad would be rolling in his grave if he knew you’d slept with the enemy. A Reaper? Seriously, Delilah? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
The mention of our father hit me like a punch to the gut, but I refused to let it show. “Don’t you dare bring Dad into this,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “He’s not here, and he’s not you. So stop pretending like you’re the one who gets to decide what’s right and wrong for me.”
Axel’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is just about you? This isn’t some little mistake you can sweep under the rug, Delilah. That kid ties you to them. To him. And whether you like it or not, it ties you to their war. Do you think Ryder’s going to keep you out of it? You think that kid’s not going to be dragged into their shit the second it’s born?”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said, my voice firm. “I won’t let it.”
“You won’t let it?” He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t get to decide that, Delilah. Not when you’re dealing with a club like theirs. They don’t let go, and they sure as hell don’t walk away.”
I met his glare head-on, refusing to back down. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with. So don’t stand there and act like you do.”
“I know enough,” he said, his voice cold. “And I know you’re making a mistake if you think you can keep this quiet. This baby? It’s going to change everything. And not just for you.”
The weight of his words settled over me, but I refused to let him see how much they shook me. “Then stay out of it, Axel. If you think it’s such a problem, then walk away. Go back to your club and leave me the hell alone.”
His eyes darkened, his expression hardening. “You think it’s that simple? It’s never that simple, Delilah. And you know it.”
“Why are you really here?” I demanded, my voice rising as the anger boiled over. “To lecture me? To make me feel guilty for trying to live my life? Or is this just another way for you to twist the knife? Because I’ve had enough of you and your judgment, Axel. I’ve had enough of this whole damn thing.”
He stepped back, his jaw working as if he was holding back a thousand things he wanted to say. “I came here because I care, Delilah because I don’t want to see you dragged down by this. But if you’re so hell-bent on ruining your life, then fine. Do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”
The words stung, sharper than I wanted to admit. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it. “Get out,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “This is my house now. Not yours. So leave.”
Axel stared at me for a long moment, his face a mask of frustration and something that almost looked like regret. Then, without a word, he turned and strode toward the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’re playing with fire, Delilah. Don’t expect not to get burned.”
The front door swung open, and Ryder stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm. His sharp gaze locked on Axel immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ryder’s voice was a low growl, the kind that promised nothing good.
Axel’s lips curled into a smirk, the cigarette still dangling from his fingers. “Should’ve known you’d show up. Always sniffing around where you don’t belong.”
Ryder took a step closer, his fists already clenched. “This is her house. You don’t belong here.”
“Her house, huh?” Axel shot back, standing his ground. “Funny, considering she’s my sister. You don’t get to waltz in here and play the hero, Reaper.”
The tension in the room crackled like live wires. I stepped between them, my heart racing. “Both of you, stop! This isn’t the time or place for this.”
Neither of them listened. Ryder’s jaw tightened as he pointed a finger at Axel. “You don’t get to come into here and start throwing accusations. You’re nothing but a piece of shit who’s always looking for a way to control everything."
“And you,” Axel shot back, his voice rising, “you think you’re better? You dragged her into this mess, and now she’s stuck. What’s worse, you’ve got her pregnant, tying her to your war. Dad would be disgusted.”
Ryder snapped. He lunged at Axel, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him against the wall. The force of the impact rattled the photo frames on the mantel.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Axel snarled, swinging a fist that connected with Ryder’s side.
I screamed, trying to push between them, but they were too far gone. Ryder retaliated, his fist slamming into Axel’s jaw, sending him staggering back. The coffee table tipped over, crashing to the floor as the fight intensified.
“Stop it!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You’re going to tear this place apart!”
Neither man paid me any attention. Axel tackled Ryder, the two of them crashing into the recliner. My heart pounded as I moved closer, desperate to stop them before someone got seriously hurt.
But before I could, Axel swung wildly, his arm colliding with me. The force knocked me off balance, and I stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor. Pain shot through my back, and my hands instinctively went to my stomach.
“Delilah!” Ryder’s voice cut through the chaos, panic laced in his tone. He pushed Axel off him and rushed to my side, his eyes wide as he knelt beside me. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Axel stood frozen, his expression shifting from anger to guilt. “Delilah… I didn’t mean…”
I glared at both of them, my voice trembling with rage. “Get out. Both of you. Now.”
Ryder’s hand reached for mine, but I pulled away. “I’m fine. Just go. Leave me alone.”
Axel hesitated, his gaze darting between me and Ryder. Finally, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Ryder lingered, his jaw tight as he struggled to find the right words.
“Delilah…”
“I said go,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “I can’t do this right now.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes dark with worry and frustration. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the wreckage of the living room. Tears burned in my eyes as I pressed my hand to my stomach, whispering a silent promise to my baby.
“I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”
And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the house that suddenly felt too big and too small all at once. I sank against the worn couch, my hand resting on my stomach as I tried to steady my breathing. The silence pressed down on me, but it wasn’t the comforting kind I’d hoped for. It was heavy, suffocating.
I glanced around the room, my gaze landing on the framed photo of my father on the mantel. His stern eyes stared back at me, a silent reminder of the life I’d left behind and the one I was trying to navigate now.
“I’ll figure this out,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else. “I have to.”
The sound of the door closing took me back to when I was eight years old. I was sitting on the staircase where I thought no one could see me. My mother’s voice carried through the house, sharp and cutting, filled with the kind of anger I didn’t yet understand.
"You think I didn’t see you?" she shouted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You think I don’t know what you’re doing?"
Dad stood in the middle of the living room, his face a mask of irritation. "It’s not what you think," he said, his tone dismissive. "You’re making a scene over nothing."
"Nothing?" Mom’s voice cracked, her frustration spilling over. "I saw you with her, Javier. One of your little club girls, hanging all over you like she owns you. You think that’s nothing?"
I held my breath, clutching the banister as I watched them. Dad took a step forward, his jaw tight, his hands clenching and unclenching. "I told you, it’s not what you think. And even if it was, it’s none of your damn business."
Mom flinched at the venom in his voice, but she didn’t back down. "None of my business? I’m your wife! This family—this house—is falling apart, and all you can think about is your goddamn club and whatever trash they drag in!"
"Watch your mouth," Dad snapped, his voice low and dangerous.
"Or what?" Mom’s defiance was sharp, but her hands trembled. "You’ll walk out again? Leave me here to explain to our kids why their father cares more about his brothers than he does about them?"
The tension was suffocating, and then it broke. Dad reached out, shoving her back just hard enough to make her stumble. The sharp gasp she let out echoed in the room, slicing through my small frame like a knife.
Mom caught herself on the arm of the couch, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. She didn’t say another word. She just stood there, staring at him like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. And Dad? He turned away, walking out the front door without another glance.
I stayed on the staircase, frozen, my small hands gripping the wood so tightly it hurt. I didn’t understand what I’d just seen, but I felt it—deep in my chest, in the pit of my stomach. A fracture, small but irreparable, spreading through the foundation of our family.
And now, sitting on the floor of that same living room, the weight of those memories crushed me. My hand went to my stomach, protective and desperate, as the echoes of the past blended with the chaos of the present.