Chapter Sixteen #2
An hour crawls by before the flames surrender.
When the smoke thins and the trucks roll away, only blackened skeletons remain.
Every ounce of effort we poured into that bakery for Snow is ash.
She was so damn hopeful, her dreams rising bright behind her eyes.
Whoever did this will pay in blood. No one messes with our business, and no one hurts our family.
Cypher has been hunched over his laptop for the last thirty minutes, his face illuminated by the blue light of the screen. Our own cameras have been down since this morning, a detail that makes my skin crawl, so he’s trying to claw his way into the feeds of the businesses across the road.
While Pope talks with the fire chief, the rest of us wade through the ashy wreckage. Each step grinds charcoal beneath my boots, the silence broken only by that brittle crunch.
"Got a place for her," Butcher says suddenly, kicking a blackened piece of wood out of his path.
I glance over at him, wincing at the bright red handprint that’s still glowing on his face. Damn, Snow got him good. "What?"
"Snow. Got a place for her bakery. I know we wanted the club to set it up, but I want to do this for her. Personally. She'll believe it's the club’s business, though. Keep it clean."
I shrug, respecting the play. "You know I don't give a shit who pays for it. It's a good idea. But we'll need to bring it to Pope."
"Don't really give a shit what he says," Butcher grunts. "I’m doing it. I’ll back it. Need you to get on the paperwork for me."
"Will do."
Butcher nods and strides out to meet Pope. They exchange a few low words, Butcher standing like a stone, until Pope finally shrugs, claps his shoulder, and they return to the group together.
"Arson," Pope says, his voice flat. He doesn't need to state the obvious. The smell of accelerant is still hanging in the air. "You find anything, Cypher?"
"Nothing concrete yet. Whoever it was blended in with the crowd. Professional. I’m going over every frame. Something will pop."
Pope nods, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes find mine, and I see the regret from the chapel still simmering there. "Don't know if this shit is connected to Marigold or not. Tomcat, do you know anything about this proof she was talking about?"
"Just a picture with writing on the back. Same style as the note from tonight. Generic block letters. Honestly, the threats could be directed at me or at her. Or both. The picture tells her to stay away from me."
"You piss off anyone recently?" Pope asks, his tone purely tactical.
"All those ladies he’s been fucking... there's bound to be some that aren't happy about the new arrangement," Savior adds, his voice dry.
"I never made promises to any of them," I snap, my patience wearing thin.
"I was clear. If they read something into a one-night stand, that’s on them.
As my little shadow pointed out, we aren't responsible for anyone else’s actions.
" I shove my hands into my pockets, thinking back through the faces of the last few months.
"It's possible. There were a few who didn't like that I didn't stick around, but none of them have caused problems."
"That you know of," Malice states.
"That I know of," I confirm, the weight of the night pressing down on my shoulders.
"Marigold said she’s had a few of the sweetbutts try to mark territory, but I don't think that's about them wanting me. They’re just protecting the only home they have.
They know the code. Once we claim an Ol' Lady, the game changes. Most of us don't cheat."
"That doesn't mean shit to some of them," Cyanide mutters, and he’s not wrong. Scorned pride is a hell of a motivator.
Pope groans, scrubbing a hand down his face as if he’s trying to wipe away the headache of the last few hours.
"For fuck's sake. So we could have anyone out here.
Scorned lovers and potential ghosts back from the dead.
Guess shit was starting to get too quiet around here.
" A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face.
"Maybe we’ll finally get some play time. "
"You telling me you don’t get enough of that with your kids, Pres?" I tease, trying to cut through the grim atmosphere.
It works. That hulking, unbreakable force of nature softens instantly at the mention of his kids. The transformation is always a trip to watch.
"I’ll never get enough of them," Pope says, his voice losing its edge for a split second.
"Missed too many years." He clears his throat, snapping back into leader mode.
"Right. We hit the ground. Find out what our people know.
Tourists are here every day, but if someone like Damon Katzis is walking our streets, someone will know.
You can't ignore the stench of evil that lingers on a man like that. "
We spend a few more minutes plotting our next moves before we roll out. Butcher veers toward the hospital, as expected, while the rest drift toward the clubhouse. Every front demands attention tonight.
But for me, there’s only one front that matters. My little shadow.
She's left the porch light on.
I can't explain why something so small hits so hard, but it does. That porch light is more than a bulb. It’s a signal, a lighthouse guiding me home.
She’s waiting for me, and it feels impossibly good, like I’m getting away with something I never deserved.
The clubhouse has always been my real home since I patched in.
My own place? Just a storage unit for my stuff, a bed to crash in when the club was quiet.
I never cared about someone waiting up, never wanted to be responsible for anyone.
After everything I’ve survived, control meant keeping everyone else out of the equation.
Marigold has shattered all my calculations. She’s the wild card I never anticipated, the storm I would have run from if she hadn’t caught me in her gravity the moment our eyes met.
It’s hard to move away from something when your soul keeps leaning toward it. When their darkness knows how to find yours in a crowd.
The door opens before I’ve even kicked the kickstand down. She’s leaning against the frame, a beautiful, haunting silhouette against the soft glow from inside.
We lock eyes for a heartbeat as I swing off the bike.
She stays rooted, but I see the tension coiled in her legs, ready to bolt.
Some reckless part of me wants her to run, just so I can chase her and feel that wild spark again.
But that’s not what either of us needs. After the fallout at the chapel, I need to know she hasn't completely checked out on us.
Pope and the others have not apologized yet, but I know my words hit home.
I saw the shame in their eyes. They'll find their way back to her.
Apologize. Make it right. I have to trust that.
What I'm less sure about is whether she'll let them.
Whether the walls will already be up by the time they get there, whether this loss will stack on top of all the others and become something she decides she already knew was coming.
That's what worries me. Not whether they'll reach out, but whether she'll still be reachable when they do.
I come to a halt right in front of her. Her eyes search mine, swirling with a thousand silent questions and fears.
Slowly, deliberately, her hand rises and turns my hat around.
Her touch shatters my self-control. My arm shoots out, fingers wrapping gently around her throat, not to harm but to ground her to me.
I hold her steady as I lower my head, our lips crashing together with desperate, bruising hunger.
Our tongues tangle instantly, speaking a wordless language of need and release.
Fuck, I could spend the rest of my life just breathing her in. There’s a rightness to this, a settling of the gears in my soul that finally makes sense of the world.
Marigold belongs to me. She has been mine since the instant she entered my orbit.
Now I get to claim her, to show everyone she’s the only one who can rein me in.
Marigold is the beautiful upheaval in my ordered world, but she’s also my anchor.
Only she can quiet the storm inside me with her own wild, magnificent chaos.
If you haven’t seen the darkness she hides, you’d swear she’s too bright for this world.
Her laughter would fool you into thinking she’s fragile, that the club’s cruelty would shatter her.
But they don’t know her as I do. They miss the iron beneath her velvet.
My little shadow. They’ll never realize it’s not her surrendering to me.
It’s me surrendering to her. She’s my Queen of the Darkness.
My hands grip her hips, lifting her easily. She wraps her legs around my waist without a word as I move us inside and kick the door shut. Temptation claws at me to take her right here, pressed against the wood, but tonight I want us tangled in sheets first.
A few seconds later, I’m dropping us both onto her mattress.
We’re both panting hard when I finally pull back. I rest our foreheads together, staring at her, marveling at the fact that I’m here. That she’s finally, fucking mine.
“You doing okay?” I ask softly.
Her body moves under mine in a non-committal shrug. “Sure.”
“Don’t lie to me. You can hide behind that mask with everyone else, baby, but not me. It’s okay that they hurt you.”
“I’m not denying that. They did,” she whispers. “But I’ve been to hell, Axton. Met the devil. Smiled to his face while I shoved a blade into his chest. It hurt, but I’ll survive. Just like before.”
“Gave them hell after you left,” I admit, wanting her to know she wasn't alone in that room.
Her eyes widen, and that beaming, electric smile covers her face. “You did? What did they say? Were they surprised? Did you hurt them?”
I chuckle, the sound low in my throat. “Wanting a little violence, eh?”
She purses her lips, but her eyes are twinkling with that old mischief. “What? Of course not. That’d be barbaric.” She sighs, her shoulders dropping. “Okay, fine. Just a little blood. Surely a girl could ask that much from her lover, right?”
Irresistibly fucking cute.
“Let’s save the bloodletting for another date. I think I have something more fun for tonight.”
“Yes.”
I lift a brow. “You don’t even know what it is.”
“Don’t care. My answer is yes.”
“Okay. Great. Come on. Let’s go make some popcorn and watch a movie.”
I pretend to move off her, but I don’t get far before her legs tighten like a vice around my waist. “Wait. What?”
“You don’t want to watch a movie with me?” I ask, poking out my bottom lip in a mock pout.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. But like… I thought you meant something more fun.”
Humming, I lean down and run my tongue up the sensitive line of her throat before nipping at her earlobe. “Did it happen to involve a mask?”
“Yep. Uh-huh,” she moans, before her eyes snap open and she shakes her head. “Wait. No. No, of course not. That’d be a terrible idea. Wouldn’t want you turning me into your dirty little slut so soon.”
With a wicked chuckle, I start stripping us both out of our clothes. “Oh, baby. It’s way too late for that.”
I flip her over, the smack of my hand against her skin echoing in the quiet room before I notch myself against her and slam home.
An hour later, we’re tangled in a sweaty, exhausted heap. My fingers trail over the smooth skin of her back while hers brush over the marks on my chest. The silence stretches, emotions rising in my chest until they threaten to spill over. The truth claws at me, impossible to hold back any longer.
“Look at me,” I order, my voice husky and thick.
She lifts her face, resting her chin on my chest.
“Fucking love you.”
Her eyes widen, instantly filling with tears as she scrambles to her knees, trying to create distance. “What?”
My hand snakes out, wrapping around her throat to command her attention. I pull her back down until her face is hovering inches over mine. “Fucking love you.”
“No,” she croaks, and I can see the raw, unadulterated fear building in her eyes. The trauma of her past is telling her that love is a death sentence.
“Yes. Scary as fuck, but it’s my truth. Needed you to know.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. You can’t love me,” she stammers, her breathing hitching. “Only I can love you. It won’t work this way. We both can’t love each other. Bad things happen then.”
Her panic is a physical thing now, digging under my skin. I know if I don’t anchor her right now, she’s going to bolt, and I’ll have to hunt her down all over again.
“Stop,” I bark.
The muscles in her throat convulse under my hand as she swallows hard. Her body finally stills.
“Good girl,” I croon, my thumb caressing the soft skin of her neck.
“You and me, little shadow. Nothing bad is going to happen to us. This shit—me and you—is for life. You go, I follow. I fucking love you. Have for a long time. You’re my family.
My home. You're my light in the darkness. I know it’s scary.
We’ve both had shit luck with big emotions.
But, baby... it’s us. We got this. We got each other. ”
She searches my face, looking for the lie and finding nothing but solid, terrifying truth. “Promise?”
“Fucking yeah, I do.”