Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Lola
W e were given the all-clear four days later.
Not wanting to turn up while things were so emotionally charged, we moved from the first motel to one on the outskirts of town until Havoc arrived.
I checked in for us, knowing that Hannibal’s cut would've likely made the desk clerk turn us away—the animosity between the club and the town spilling out further, given the current circumstances. There's no getting around the fact that the club isn’t liked.
A bunch of young women going missing without a trace, the club showing zero interest in helping find them, when some of the girls were last seen heading for the compound made it easy for people to point fingers and lay blame at the club’s feet.
MCs skate the fine line of the law, often finding themselves in the crosshairs of investigations.
But it was their reaction to this whole mess that turned the townsfolk against them.
And they have no one to blame but themselves.
After tossing and turning half the night and convincing myself I’m not bothered about going home, I give up on sleep and slip out of bed, careful not to disturb Hannibal.
I get cleaned up and dressed before pulling my hair up into a simple ponytail.
I stare at my reflection, wishing I had some concealer to hide the bags under my eyes.
With a snort, I think about all the times I had to put on makeup and swore, given the chance, I’d never wear it again.
Look at me now. Knowing I’ll be facing the club later, I admit I feel somewhat exposed without it.
I never thought of it as a mask before.
Looking at myself now, stripped back to basics, I admit I was hiding more than bruises with it.
It’s a crappy feeling realizing you’re not nearly as thick-skinned as you thought you were.
When Hannibal’s cell phone rings, I drop my head.
Our time here is up.
Nausea churns in my stomach as a sleepy Hannibal answers the call.
I don’t hear anything of the one-sided conversation until I step through the door and Hannibal looks over at me.
“We’ll be there in an hour.” He hangs up before climbing out of bed.
Stark naked and hard as a rock, he stalks toward me, slipping his hand into my hair as he devours my mouth, not giving a single fuck about propriety or morning breath.
“We’ve gotta go,” he tells me when he pulls back.
“I know. I’m ready.” I’m not, but I won’t fall at the first hurdle.
The small break from being here has put some things into perspective for me.
I’ve become so used to insulating myself against the club that I stopped trying to change the narrative.
They might have been dicks, but I let them.
“Give me five minutes to shower and get dressed. I’ll pack up our shit and hit the drive-thru for breakfast. No way am I letting you face this shit on an empty stomach.” He winks before heading into the bathroom.
I stare at his ass before it disappears, shaking my head to clear out all those naughty thoughts trying to sneak up on me.
I pack up our things absentmindedly as I spend a moment unpacking my feelings.
After everything that went down with Driller, I thought having sex with Hannibal would be traumatic, perhaps.
I expected fear and a deep-seated reluctance that I’d have to push aside to do the duties expected of me as an old lady.
Instead, I find myself lighting up like the Fourth of July when he’s near me.
I don’t know if there’s a right or wrong way to deal with abuse, whether I’m supposed to act a certain way or just hide from the world.
But all I feel right now is an odd sense of purpose, like it’s time to reclaim parts of myself I let get trampled on.
Maybe Hannibal’s dick doubles as a magic wand.
It would explain why my spine feels a little straighter as I hold my head up and push my shoulders back.
I feel good, nervous but confident, as we leave the hotel and pull into the drive-thru for breakfast sandwiches.
I manage to scarf down two before we start making our way to the compound.
Unfortunately, the closer we get, the tenser I get, and the more my confidence slips.
By the time the clubhouse comes into view, my body is wound so tight I worry my bones will break.
Sensing how on edge I am, Hannibal doesn’t bother to make small talk, which I’m grateful for.
I’m not sure I could string a sentence together, let alone make it make sense.
I hear the sound of bikes as we approach the gates and swallow down the bile in my throat when I see Havoc and the prospect driving the mother chapter’s truck carrying Hannibal’s bike, just behind us.
We wait for the gates to open, and for a moment, I’m hurtled back in time as I picture myself on the back of Havoc’s bike, the wind in my hair, and my arms around his waist. The younger me held her whole world in her arms, not knowing it would all crumble to ash.
I look over at Havoc as the gates swing open, and he rides past us.
The stars are officially gone from my eyes now.
The dreamer in me was cursed with one too many nightmares for me to believe in fairytales any longer.
I’d rather be safe now than sorry later, and the only way to do that is to guard my heart and keep my head in the game.
Despite what Hannibal thinks, that’s what this is—a game I’m forced to play while someone moves me around the board at their whim.
When the truck stops, I blow out a shuddering breath as Hannibal turns to look at me.
“The version of me I need to be in a minute is not the one you’re used to. I need to dig in and get the lay of the land, which means letting them think that you’re the spoils of war.”
Nothing too far from the truth, then.
I feel my stomach plummet as I catch on to what he’s saying.
He’s going to treat me differently now that we’re here, and he’s the president.
I should have figured it out sooner.
I mean, he wants me to raise his kid, and in doing so, he’ll provide protection for mine.
I need to remember that’s the only reason I’m doing this.
My feelings for the man beside me are nothing more than an inconvenience that I need to forget about if I’m to survive here intact.
I don’t look at him.
I just nod my head and keep my eyes on my lap.
“You have to trust me, Lola. I won’t let anything happen to you, but I want to see people without their guard up. It’s the only way to see what I’m up against.”
“It’s okay, Hannibal. I get it.”
He slides his hand under my jaw and turns my face so I have no choice but to look at him.
“No, doll, I don’t think you do. But you will.” He leans closer and kisses me.
I jump when a fist thumps the window behind my head.
Hannibal sighs before pulling back and jumping out.
As he walks around the truck to my door, I take a few deep breaths and shore up my defenses once more.
Rubbing my hand over my stomach, I draw strength from my son.
I’m making the best of a shitty situation to keep him safe, and there's no shame in that.
By the time he opens the door, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I take the hand he offers me and climb out. He closes the door behind me, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. I can’t tell if that’s for comfort or to keep me from running away.
“Let’s get this over with,” Havoc grunts, not sparing me a glance.
I look up and find Hannibal’s eyes on mine. “You ready for this?”
I nod, hoping I look calmer than I feel.
Havoc heads to the large doors of the clubhouse, so Hannibal guides me to follow him. I catch a couple of people watching out of the corner of my eye, but I keep my eyes on Havoc’s back, adopting a toddler’s mindset. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.
Havoc pushes the doors open, puts his fingers in his mouth, and whistles loudly as we move up behind him. I dip my head as the room falls quiet, remembering when I taught him to do that.
“You have five minutes to get everyone here, or there’ll be repercussions. You knew I was coming, so I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuses.”
He turns to look at Hannibal, who maneuvers us out from behind Havoc’s shadow to stand beside him. I hear a few muttered curses when people see me. But for the most part, everyone ignores me, which suits me just fine.
Hannibal pulls me into him so my back is pressed against his chest, making a statement of his own. My heart thunders in my chest, and my palms begin to sweat. I concentrate on the rhythmic thud of Hannibal’s heart so I don’t end up having a panic attack.
These five minutes feel more like five hours, but by the time everyone has gathered in front of us, I’m wishing for five more. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it makes my skin crawl. If Havoc doesn’t say what he needs to in the next few minutes, I’m going to lose my damn mind.
“Khan's dead,” he begins, shattering the heavy silence. “Driller's a marked man, and everyone else who thought it was acceptable to open fire on innocent civilians are also gone.”
I lift my head now, looking out at the sea of faces, wondering if any of them knew what was going to happen. MCs often get into it with other MCs, but they don’t bring civilians into it because that brings them to the police’s attention. As fucked in the head as Khan was, I still find it hard to believe he would order some of his men to open fire at a book signing, of all places, and risk exposing the club like that. Unless that was the plan all along. Maybe he knew his time was up and decided to leave his blood-stained mark behind.
“What Khan did to this club was fucked-up,” Havoc continues. “But none of you noticed, or if you did, you let it slide. How it got this far, I don’t know, but it won’t be happening again. Not on my watch. Initially, I thought about disbanding this chapter altogether. The locals detest you—really, I’d be doing them a favor.”
His words have people yelling out protests, but Havoc ignores them, turning a little. I follow his gaze and see him staring at Elmo, Byte, and Ferris. They watch the three of us with blank faces, but there's no surprise or hostility in their gazes. If I had to guess, I’d say the three of them have already been clued into what’s about to go down.
“Last time I was here. I realized there are good brothers here. Some of you just lost your way.” The room quiets once more. “Hannibal's going to be your new president. I’m sure those who don’t know him have heard of his reputation. I dare you to fuck with him.”
I can tell people feel uncomfortable now. Everyone has heard of Hannibal’s reputation, even me, and I keep myself to myself.
His hands give my shoulders a brief squeeze before he addresses the room. “I won’t be letting shit fly, so if you don’t want to get this club back to where it should be, then leave now. There’s the door. Nobody will stop you, but this is the only shot you get. If you stay, you’re agreeing to me being your president. You’re agreeing to abide by my rules and to do as I ask to make this club formidable once more.”
“How come you’re making an outsider president?” a familiar voice calls out, but the room is too crowded for me to pick them out from the masses.
Havoc crosses his arms, daring anyone to mess with him. “Because I don’t think any of you are up to the job.”
“And you think you’re the right person to make that decision?” another calls out, filled with laughter. But they soon quiet down when they realize nobody is laughing with them.
“I honestly don’t give a shit what any of you think, but I’ll remind you just this once. I’m the President of the mother chapter of Raven Souls. Either learn respect, or I’m burning this club to the ground. I do not give a fuck. I owe you nothing,” Havoc warns them.
“The fact he’s giving this club a second chance is more than you deserve. But by all means, piss the boss off. See how that works out for you.” Hannibal laughs, a cold, cruel sound that has most people taking a collective step back.
“We hear you, Havoc,” Elmo calls out as he steps forward to say his piece. “There's a lot of shit you don’t know. Shit I’ve only just found out about. I’ll tell you everything later, but you need to know that Khan was a traitor to us all. He didn’t deserve to wear the Raven Souls patch. Every word out of his mouth was a fucking lie. I’ve been investigating him since Havoc was last here.”
Shuffling and surprise in the crowd now.
“Khan was embezzling money from the club. I found an offshore account in his name with just over a million dollars in it. I’ve also found direct ties to him and at least half of the missing girls.”
“Oh shit,” someone curses, echoing my sentiments exactly. I suspected he was involved somehow, but I figured it was more a case of knowing who was behind it and turning a blind eye. Some of the women look openly distressed now— I don’t know if it’s for the poor women Khan screwed over or because it’s sinking in how easily it could have been one of them. How it could have been any of us.
“Driller was working directly with Khan. I don’t know if he knew about the money. It seems unlikely because he’d have demanded a share of his own, but money was never Driller’s motivation. He’s a bully and a narcissist.” I flinch at Havoc’s words. He has no idea just how bad his brother is.
“He’s the loose end right now. He’s considered an enemy of the club. If any of you offer him safe harbor, you’ll answer to Hannibal. And if there’s anything left of you, you’ll answer to me.”
“What about Lola? She’s carrying his kid. He’ll come back for her.”
I freeze at Manny’s question. Hannibal squeezes my shoulders again, but it’s impossible for me to relax.
“Lola's mine.” Hannibal’s voice rings out with authority as his hand slides down to cup my bump. “This baby is mine. If Driller comes for either of them, I’ll gut him like a fish before I show him how I got my name.”
I’m not surprised when nobody says anything in Driller’s defense.
“I’ll pick who I want in my cabinet at a later date. I need to talk to you all first and see who I think will work best where. The only exception is Byte. I’m making you my VP. You know this club, the brothers, and the town. You get the delightful job of being my voice of reason,” Hannibal states.
Byte notes, “If that’s what you need. I’ve stood by for too long and watched as Khan took the club I loved and turned it into something I barely recognize.” He turns to the crowd of brothers. “If Hannibal says he can bring us back to glory, I’ll happily stand beside him.”
“Good.” Havoc slaps Hannibal on the shoulder, making me jolt. “Good luck, brother. Remember, I’m only a phone call away,” he tells him, lowering his voice as the crowd behind him begins to talk amongst themselves.
Feeling his gaze on me, I lift my head and stare into the eyes I used to love, fighting back the urge to claw them out.
“Lola. We’re never going to be friends, not after what you did. But I can let bygones be bygones if you treat Hannibal better than you did me.”
Bygones be bygones? This man has systematically hurt me over and over, and I’m sick of letting him. My eyes flood with tears as I finally give up on him the way he did me. Any love I had for the man has withered and died like anything does when it’s neglected and trodden on.
No more. I’m done.
“Don’t worry about me, Havoc. Lola knows exactly what I’ll do to her if she crosses me.”
I grit my teeth and fist my hands, the pain of my nails slicing into my palm the only thing keeping me grounded. I swallow down the urge to scream—to curse, to break something. But that’s what he’s looking for. Well, fuck him. I won’t be giving away any more pieces of myself to this man.
There's an odd amount of relief that comes on the heels of my acceptance. I should have let go a long time ago. The man looking down at me like I’m something he scraped off his shoe is not my Havoc. He died in prison.
With a nod to Hannibal, he turns and walks away, and I watch him leave for what I vow will be the very last time.