Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
SADIE
J asmine tightened her grip on my hand, her fingers intertwined with mine in a reassuring tangle. We both dabbed at the tears that had traced paths down our cheeks.
I’d barely held it together, the reminders of Logan’s funeral barrelling to the forefront of my mind. But I had Rowan and Jasmine there, and just the warmth of their bodies beside mine was enough to keep me from falling.
The church was too still, too close, the air thick with incense and regret. The funeral service was nearing its end, a heavy silence settling over the gathered mourners.
Father Malachi’s voice echoed softly through the space, calling for the pallbearers to approach the caskets of Nash’s mum, stepfather, brother, and sister, Zara.
As the close family members and friends stepped forward to accompany the first three coffins, a noticeable stillness lingered in the air for Zara—no-one moved to stand by her side.
I glanced over at Nash, who sat in the front pew, his head bowed as he brushed his fingertips over his cheeks, his grief palpable.
The creak of timber startled the silence as Rowan rose, all shadows and purpose, and the quiet around him bent like it always did—like it knew who he was, and so did I.
Bear, Scout, and Eddie followed right behind him. The knot in my chest loosened just slightly as he stepped forward. Pride and grief tangled into one, but I held my head high as Rowan’s eyes met mine for the briefest second.
“We’ve got this, boys,” he said, his voice steady as they made their way down the aisle.
They positioned themselves on either side of Zara’s coffin, Rowan taking a moment to gently place his hand on the polished wood, almost as if he were whispering a silent goodbye to Zara, just as he had done for Logan.
He lifted his focus to Nash, offering him a slight nod—his way of offering words unspoken.
After Rowan’s frustration this morning about even attending, I hadn’t expected him to show up at all, let alone lead the way. He was the one standing by Nash in more ways than anyone else had managed, despite the murmurs circulating about Nash’s sister, Zara.
My heart ached for Nash as I imagined the burden he bore in defending his sister against the judgment of the entire town. It reminded me of how I would have fought for Logan years ago—if only I hadn’t fled like the coward I was.
As the pallbearers wheeled the coffins forward, everyone rose to their feet.
Some dabbed at flushed cheeks with soggy tissues.
Others stood motionless, eyes cast down, as the procession moved slowly down the aisle.
Each step echoed in the quiet until the pallbearers gently placed the caskets in the waiting hearses outside .
Black-clad mourners drifted out of the church like a slow-moving shadow, their scuffed shoes kicking up red dirt outside.
Sweat beaded at the nape of my neck as the scent of lilies mingled with the petrol from the idling cars up and down the street.
Jasmine slipped in beside me, her fingers cool against my forearm. “Let’s get it over with,” she murmured, her voice barely rising above the distant drone of crickets and whatever other insects infected Barrenridge.
Her presence was all I needed, her watchful eyes waiting for the moment when my guilt and grief over Logan finally swallowed me whole.
I nodded, falling into step beside her as we made our way to the parking lot where a row of gleaming Harleys stood waiting.
Rowan, Bear, Scout, and Eddie had already mounted their bikes, the low rumble of engines cutting through the hushed conversations around us.
The grit shifted beneath their boots as they pushed off, a gust of hot air carrying exhaust fumes brushing past us.
Levi Stone, Nash’s half-brother, hosted the wake at his small three-bedder in the heart of the town, across the road from Barrenridge park. He lived there with his fiancée, Paige.
Groups of guests hovered near the folding chairs set out on the lawn, their voices an inaudible murmur beneath the grief this town was so good at handing out.
Jasmine and I hung back as the guys dismounted their bikes. Rowan gave the crowd a slow once-over, his leather cut tightening over his shoulders as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
His gaze finally settled on me, his shoulders loosening just a fraction—almost invisible, but I felt it. Snake was still out there somewhere, and time was slipping through my fingers before I faced my father.
But before all that, Nash.
I steeled myself and made my way up the path to where he stood alone beneath a tree, phone pressed to his ear.
The screen’s glow flickered across his tight features.
It was intrusive to just stand there and eavesdrop, but when the name Anthony Robinson fell from his lips, my heart leaped into my throat, freezing me in place.
He was investigating Snake? Shit. He had no idea what he was getting into with that arsehole. I couldn’t just let him stumble down that dark road. Not many survived to tell the story. I’d seen what Snake left behind—blood, ruin, silence.
Nash’s conversation wrapped up, and he stood there, staring at his phone like it held the secrets he was desperately seeking. I hoped I could provide him with at least one shred of clarity, if nothing else.
I took a breath of warm, scented air, and stepped up beside him. “Nash?” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. My voice was softer than I intended, but he spun around so fast, I almost yanked him off balance.
His eyes softened when they met mine. “Hey, Sades,” he murmured, the smallest hint of warmth in his voice.
“Thanks for coming. Didn’t think I’d ever see you back in Barrenridge, though.
You here for good?” His gaze flickered over my shoulder to Rowan, who was casually leaning against his bike, a picture of faux calm amidst the chaos.
He stuck out like a sore thumb in his Ridge Riders cut, and that steely gaze locked on me like I might vanish if he dared to blink.
My stomach twisted under the weight of that look, but I knew right then and there that Rowan Knight wasn’t just the one I’d chosen—he was the one I’d never walk away from again.
A small smile tugged at my lips. “I am now,” I said, willing my voice to remain steady .
Nash nodded, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand—an unconscious gesture that conveyed both exhaustion and release. “I’m happy for you. Rowan’s a good man,” he said, his tone genuine.
“Yeah, he is.” I ran a hand across my forehead, hoping to ease the tension.
But nothing could shake the knot of dread in my chest. “Listen, I—I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.
” Nash lifted a brow, curiosity piqued. I swallowed and leaned in.
“Anthony Robinson,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper as I chewed on a thumbnail, hesitation gripping me as I weighed the decision to divulge more. “What are you getting yourself into?”
Nash stepped forward, his jaw tight, eyes darkening. “Wait—you know him?” His voice dropped, low and rough, like the name alone had just scraped across his nerves.
I forced a slow nod, heart hammering. “You could say that. So do you. He was a few years ahead of us in school, but he doesn’t go by that name anymore.
” Nash tilted his head, confusion etched into every line on his face.
I drew in a sharp intake of breath and let it out in a sigh. “He goes by the name of Snake now.”
Across the lawn, Rowan shifted beside his bike, the afternoon light glinting off the chrome.
He narrowed his eyes, muscles coiling in his forearms. The tension rolling off him was palpable, even from where I was standing.
His gaze zeroed in on me, an almost imperceptible glint of violence in his eyes.
Nash wasn’t going to hurt me, but Rowan was on edge, and I couldn’t blame him for being protective. He was the ground I walked on, always there to steady me.
Nash’s gaze snapped in his direction, pupils contracting. “He’s a Ridge Rider?”
The question hit me like a slap. My chest tightened. “Yeah. The dangerous kind,” I mumbled, memories of Rowan half- dead on the clubhouse hospital bed almost choking me up. “He tried to have Rowan killed—almost succeeded. And now he’s vanished. No-one can find him.”
Around us, mourners milled quietly, the smell of wilting flowers clinging to the warm breeze. But all I could focus on was the weight of Nash’s stare and the smoke curling from Rowan’s cigarette—a lit fuse.
Nash rubbed at the back of his neck, wincing. “Jesus.” He frowned and ducked his head. “Do you know if he has any connection to the Sunfire Circle?”
I shrugged one shoulder, letting my gaze drift back to where Rowan lounged against his bike, one boot hooked on the frame, the cigarette dangling from his fingers as a thread of smoke drifted into the golden air. Maybe I should’ve kept it to myself. But hiding it would’ve been worse. Wouldn’t it?
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know about the print—so does Rowan. He said he saw Snake at the clubhouse the night of the murders. Look, whatever Snake’s actual involvement is, just be careful, okay?”
Nash blinked, staring at me like he’d just swallowed broken glass. “Sure,” he mumbled, but his eyes were already glazing over.
With a small, reassuring smile, I darted back over to Rowan, leaving Nash standing there to stew in whatever shit I’d just dropped on him. I didn’t know if I’d just saved him or doomed him. But either way, the truth was out now, and there was no walking it back.
Rowan crossed his arms, his leather cut creaking under the strain. “What was that all about?” he said, eyes weary, voice low.
I hesitated, unsure how to even say it. My pulse thudded beneath my ribs as I glanced back at Nash, who was still rubbing his neck, as if trying to shake the conversation off. Worse was that Nash’s own sister lay buried with all the answers he’d begun to dig for.
I pressed my palms to my thighs. “He asked about Snake,” I said, lowering my voice as the words rushed out of me. “I overheard him on the phone. He knows about the fingerprint.”
Rowan grunted, his jaw tensing. “If I knew where that arsehole was hiding, I’d drag him out myself.”
I tilted my head, squinting against the low-lying sun. Rowan stepped in close, pressing a kiss to my lips, his stubble rough against my skin.
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering against my cheek. “You ready for dinner with your old man?”
I shook my head, a small sigh escaping. “Not at all,” I said, but the tremor in my voice gave me away.
My fingers trembled as I adjusted the hem of my dress.
Rowan didn’t say anything, just brushed a knuckle beneath my chin like he could hold me together with that alone.
“But he’s promised me the truth about Mum. I’m just glad you’ll be there.”
Rowan’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he grunted as he snatched it out. His frown deepened as he read the message, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. “Fuck,” he muttered.
My stomach knotted. “What is it?”
He glanced up, a silent apology in his eyes. “Iron. He needs me at the clubhouse. Didn’t even know the arsehole was back.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I’m sorry, Firefly. I’ll meet you back at your place after, okay?”
I blinked back my disappointment and forced a nod. “It’s fine, Ro. Be careful.”
Rowan cupped my face in both hands, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones, and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. The touch was brief, but it steadied something inside me, anchoring me before the storm I knew was coming.
“Always am, baby.” He swung a leg over his bike and kicked the engine to life, a low rumble vibrating through my body. He leaned in again and pressed his lips to mine once more. “I love you. See you soon.”
A smile crept onto my face. I’d never get used to those words falling from his lips, nor would I get used to them being pressed against mine. “Love you too.”
He winked and sped out into the street, the growl of his Harley disappearing the further away he rode. As the taillights faded, I rested a hand over my stomach. Nausea crept in, and no matter how hard I pushed, the dread still spilled out.
Jasmine’s sneakers crunched behind me. She offered her car keys with a grin. “Come on, Coop. I’ll get you home.”
I exhaled, shoulders loosening, and followed her toward her car.