Chapter Sixteen
"The fuck is wrong with all of you?"
Rage simmers inside, quiet but sharper, poised like a blade, more dangerous than a scream.
It burns through me like a scorched-earth inferno, demanding justice for the haunted look in Marigold’s eyes as she left.
Each breath stokes a beast inside me, straining against its leash.
I've felt this before, just never aimed at my brothers. The fact that one woman, with her wild, unpredictable energy, can drag this fury out of me and aim it at the men I’d lay down my life for should probably terrify me more than it does.
“I was the one being stalked by her,” I say, my voice dropping into a dangerous, vibrating register.
“If anyone gets to be shitty about it, it’s me.
But the only thing she actually did to anyone in this room was prove that our clubhouse is fucking vulnerable.
We should be thanking her for showing us where the holes are before someone with real malice walks through them.
” I lean over the table, my knuckles white as I stare them down, one by one.
“Marigold has been loyal as hell to this club since day one. She took a bullet for us. We trusted her enough to hand her one of our businesses and let her run it as if it were hers. What more does she have to do? What more do we need from her before she counts? To prove she’s family?
” I shake my head, letting my gaze linger on the men I’ve called brothers for years.
“It’s disappointing that you jumped to conclusions.
That’s not what we do. We wait for the facts.
Facts that you would have had if you’d shut your mouths and let her speak.
I believe her about the stalker. Why the hell can’t you? ”
“You sure you’re just not blinded by her pussy, brother? Because she’s not been honest with us,” Pope defends.
I ignore the first part because I don't feel like putting my President through a wall today and address the lie instead. “About what? She’s been truthful about her name. It’s not on her if Cypher’s search didn't dig deep enough.”
“It’s strange, don't you think?” Pope counters, though I can see the first cracks in his resolve. “That her parents were high-profile enough to run a prestigious gallery in Greece, yet Cypher couldn't find fuck-all on her?”
“No. You heard her story. You heard the same name I did. Damon Katzis. Minos. Even over here, we know the weight that name carries. It doesn't surprise me for a second that if that monster is still alive, he’s buried every trace of her existence so he could hunt her in peace.”
“Then she should have told us,” Pope says, though it sounds more like a stubborn reflex now. “Especially if the club is a target.”
I scoff, unable to believe this was the hill he was choosing.
“You, more than anyone, know that nobody owes anybody their trauma. Her past was hers to share when she felt safe enough to breathe it out loud. Now we know why she never told us. That shit is dark as hell, and we’re all lucky she even made it out of Greece alive. ”
I scan the faces around the table. The stubbornness is draining out of the room, replaced by a heavy, leaden silence.
Some of my brothers stare at the table, their shoulders slumped with the realization that their silence while Pope tore into her only twisted the knife.
Regret sits raw and unspoken behind their eyes.
Yanking off my hat, I toss it onto the table, fingers raking through my hair before I scrub my face, trying to ground myself. My heart lingers at the doorway, aching for the place she vanished.
“It’s taken me four fucking years to get that woman to let me in,” I rasp.
“She settled under my ribs the day she rode into this city, and I haven't been able to shake her since. Then, when I’m finally close enough to claim her, to make her see we’re so much more than friends, the men she considered family turn on her without a second thought.
I made her a promise that she wouldn't lose anyone else important to her.” I look up.
“I fucking love all of you, but the way you went at her without proof, assuming she was just some attention-seeker.
.. it leaves me disappointed in a way I don't know what to do with.”
I meet Pope’s eyes. Then Cypher’s. Then the rest. Men who once swore they’d never let anyone close, only to break their own rules when love found them.
“That woman is my life. I never thought I’d have something that beautiful.
Never even wanted it. We all know I was the club’s biggest man-whore.
Commitment wasn't something I thought I was capable of. She changed that. Same way Birdie changed it for you, Pope. Same way Nyla and Calix did for you, Cypher. Same way it happened for the rest of you. You’d go to war for them.
You’d burn the world down to keep them safe.
I’m asking you... don't make me go to war with my own family to protect mine.”
Before the silence in the chapel can settle into an answer, the thick wooden door shudders beneath a desperate, relentless pounding.
"Enter!" Pope barks, his voice tight with the leftover friction of our argument.
Munch shoves his head in. The man usually looks like he could chew through nails, but right now his face is pale, his eyes wide and full of a cold, flickering fire. "The new complex has been hit. Don't fucking know how bad. Scorch didn't say, but she was crying and shit."
"Goddammit." Pope's hands come down on the table hard enough to rattle it, and he's on his feet before the sound finishes.
The argument about Marigold is instantly eclipsed by the call of the club.
We burst from the chapel, the heavy thud of boots echoing like a heartbeat.
Engines roar to life, one after another, filling the air with a wild, electric pulse.
Kraken swings the gate open, and we scream past him in a tight, dangerous formation.
We rip through Coral Cay, pipes snarling, the noise shaking windows and rattling glass.
People pause to watch us streak by. Some wave, some nod, then drift back to their lives.
That’s Coral Cay now. It took years of showing up, years of protection with no strings, years of settling trouble without breaking the trust we’d earned.
For a long time, they watched us, waiting for the day we’d turn into something they had to endure instead of something guarding their backs.
That day never came. Eventually, they stopped waiting.
The Steel Slayers situation last year was the darkest chapter we’d ever written on these streets. Blood, chaos, scars that lingered long after the bodies vanished. Yet when the dust settled, the locals gathered around us, helping stitch the city back together without a second thought.
That’s the legacy we forged here. Now, someone is trying to tear it all down.
Watching that hard-won peace slip feels like a beast clawing at my ribs. Violence is part of our world, but coming after our city? That’s a line you don’t cross and live.
The stinging reek of burning chemicals and scorched wood slams into us long before the lot comes into view.
Emergency vehicles crowd the street, their lights splashing wild streaks of red and blue across the darkness.
The retail complex we’ve poured our savings and sweat into is swallowed by flames, a monstrous blaze devouring everything we built.
My heart thunders as I search the chaos.
Snow sits hunched in the ambulance, oxygen mask pressed to her face.
Her pale skin is streaked with soot, her eyes fixed on the fire, empty and shattered, hands scrubbing her arms as if she could erase the nightmare.
Workers drift through the lot like ghosts.
Mitchell, one of our best, lies on a gurney, ringed by paramedics.
Justice, a firefighter I’ve shared a few beers with, jogs over, dragging a hand through his messy blond hair.
"It’s a fucking mess, man," he says, shaking his head.
"Can't say for sure until the investigation is done, but it's arson.
For sure. Someone set the goddamn place on fire while your people were still inside.
Thankfully, we didn't lose anyone, but it's been a bitch to contain.
" His eyes drift toward Snow. "She got the worst of it.
Stubborn woman wouldn't leave until she was sure everyone else was out, even as the walls were coming down around her. "
Butcher lets out a low, animalistic growl and storms toward the ambulance where Snow sits. He blocks out the world, towering over her, brushing off the paramedics’ protests. He leans in close, his whole body radiating a dangerous blend of rage and desperate relief.
I’m too far away to catch his words over the roar of the fire, but whatever he says snaps the daze out of her. Snow’s palm cracks against his face so hard the sound echoes across the entire lot, sharper than the popping of the burning timber.
"What the hell is he doing?" Justice demands, his voice rising with a protective edge. "Did he not just hear what she’s been through? He’s looming over her like a damn thundercloud."
He’s ready to charge in, all hero instincts, but I grab his suspenders and pull him back. "Easy, white knight. Watch them. Really watch. She’s fine. He won’t hurt her. They’re just talking in a language you can’t understand."
Justice studies them for a while, noticing how Snow stands her ground after the slap. He finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Looks like the big guy’s finally going down, huh?"
"Definitely," I say, a short laugh escaping me. It’s the only light moment in a night that’s gone to hell.