Chapter 8
?
— Colt —
“Ineed a minute.” The words came out flat. Controlled. The voice I used when nothing was controlled at all.
I didn’t wait for a response. I pushed back from the table and walked—not fast, not slow, just walked—toward the back hallway.
Dutch must have followed because when I pushed into his office and the door swung shut behind me, it didn’t latch.
A second later it opened and closed again, and then it was just us.
I made it to the far wall.
Then I slid down it.
My back hit the concrete and I kept going until I was on the floor, knees up, hands flat against the cold ground.
The sound that came out of me didn’t belong to any version of myself I recognized.
It tore out of my chest in a wave and I let it because Dutch was the only one here, and Dutch had seen me bleed before.
She was pregnant. She came to tell me and they—
I pressed the heel of my hands against my eyes. The images were already forming. Lilac walking through the clubhouse doors. Scared, excited, waiting for me. Finding something else instead.
“Don’t.” Dutch dropped down beside me, shoulder against mine. “Don’t go there.”
“I can’t not go there.”
“I know.” His hand landed on the back of my neck. Not soft—Dutch didn’t do soft—just heavy and steady. Keeping me tethered. “I know.”
What came out of me next I would never repeat to anyone. It was grief in its rawest form, the kind that’s half rage and half devastation, the kind that has nowhere to go. Dutch took it. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just kept his hand on my neck and let me fall apart.
I don’t know how long it lasted. Long enough that my throat was raw and my hands had stopped shaking. Long enough for something to form on the other side of it—the shape of what came next.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
“You good?” Dutch asked.
“No.”
“You going back out there?”
I breathed. Once. Twice. “Yeah.”
He stood first and held out a hand. I took it. He hauled me up and didn’t say anything else, which was one of the reasons he was the only man I’d have let see that.
I straightened my cut. Rolled my shoulders. Put myself back together piece by piece until I looked like someone who could hold a conversation.
Then we went back out.
?
Betty was still at the table, hands folded.
Graham was beside her, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
At the far end of the table, Bernard had his briefcase open, papers spread in front of him, quietly comparing everything with Glitch—the two of them speaking in low voices over the evidence still pulled up on the screens.
The rest of my brothers had spread out around the room, but none of them had left.
I crossed the room and stood in front of Betty.
“The amnesia,” I said. “Explain it to me. All of it.”
Betty looked at me—measuring, I thought, deciding how much I could hold. Then she nodded.
“Head trauma,” she said. “What was done to her that night was severe. The brain protects itself when it can’t survive what’s happened to it. It closes doors.” She paused. “Sometimes those doors open again. Sometimes they don’t.”
“It’s been seven years.” My voice was steady. I was proud of that. “It hasn’t come back.”
“No.”
“Is it going to?”
Betty was quiet for a moment. “I’m a nurse, not a neurologist. What I can tell you is that the doctors we consulted in those first months saw no guarantee of recovery.
That forcing it—pushing her to access things her mind had locked away—carried its own risks.
” Her voice dropped, softer. “She had nightmares for years. She’d wake up screaming, couldn’t tell me what from.
Just that something was chasing her. Just that she was afraid.
” She met my eyes. “I let her heal on her own terms. I stand by that decision.”
I turned and looked at Graham.
He was already watching me. Braced.
“You knew who she was the whole time,” I said. “So why didn’t you tell her?”
Graham exhaled. “I was eighteen, Colt. Barely eighteen.” He shook his head. “What did I know about brain trauma? About what you’re supposed to say to someone who’s just woken up from a coma with no memory and no idea who they are? I didn’t know anything. I was a scared kid.”
I held his gaze. “And after? When she was stable—”
“That was my decision.” Betty’s voice was firm.
We both looked at her. “Graham came to me. I was the one with the medical background. The doctors advised strongly against prompting or pressuring her. The risk of further psychological damage was real. And beyond the medical reasons—” Her expression tightened, “I was the one who made the call. Not him. Don’t put this on the young man who saved her life. ”
The words landed.
I turned back to Graham. He hadn’t looked away.
“Thank you,” I said. “For getting her out.”
His throat moved. He nodded once, and didn’t say anything else.
I exhaled through my nose and pulled out a chair, sitting across from Betty. My hands were steadier than they had any right to be.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me the rest.”
She opened her mouth—and that was when it hit me. All of it at once.
“My boys.” The words came out strangled, barely recognizable as my own voice. “Those boys are mine.”
“Luca and Knox.” Betty’s expression softened. “They’re wonderful children. Luca is fierce and protective—reminds me of his father, actually, from what little I’ve heard of you. Knox is quieter, more observant. He sees things other people miss.”
“They don’t know about me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Lilac told them their father wasn’t in the picture. It wasn’t a lie—she didn’t remember you. She couldn’t explain what she didn’t know.”
“They hate me.” I saw Luca’s face again, twisted with rage and fear as he swung at me. You’re a bad man. I hate you. “My own sons hate me.”
“They don’t know you’re their father.” Betty reached across the table and took my hands. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “Right now, you’re just the scary man who keeps making their mama cry. But if you give them time, if you prove yourself—”
“How?” The question exploded out of me. “How am I supposed to prove myself to them when I’ve spent the last week terrorizing their mother? How am I supposed to be their father when they think I’m a monster?”
“By being patient.” Betty’s voice was firm. “By being present. By showing up and being gentle and letting them see who you really are. It won’t happen overnight, Colt. You can’t undo years of absence in a few days. But you can start.”
I pulled my hands away and stood up.
I’d missed nearly seven years of my sons’ lives. First words, first steps, first day of school. Birthday parties and bedtime stories and scraped knees. All of it, gone. All of it stolen by men I’d called brothers.
“I need to see her.” The words came out before I could stop them. “I need to explain, to apologize, to—”
“Not tonight.” Betty stood too, her tone brooking no argument. “She’s had a traumatic week. The last thing she needs is you showing up at her door in the middle of the night, no matter how good your intentions are.”
“Then when?”
“Let me talk to her first, explain what’s happened. Let her process it before she has to face you again.” Betty studied my face. “You’re not the only one who’s going to be reeling from this news, Colt.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to storm out, ride to her house, fall on my knees and beg her to forgive me for every horrible thing I’d said.
But Betty was right. Lilac had been through enough. She deserved time to process this without me making it about my guilt.
“I’m not going to hide from this.” I met Betty’s eyes, letting her see I meant it. “I made this mess. I’m going to help clean it up.”
Betty studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay, then. But Colt?” She waited until she had my full attention. “If you hurt her again—if you say one cruel word or make one wrong move—I will personally ensure you never see those boys again. Grandmother’s promise. Don’t test it.”
I nodded. I deserved that warning. I deserved worse.
While Betty was still talking, Bernard had quietly closed his briefcase.
Now he set the folder on the table in front of me.
“Everything I compiled is in there,” he said.
“If you’re ever ready to pursue the legal route, you’ll know how to reach me.
” He glanced at the big screen, still covered in Glitch’s evidence.
“Get me a copy of what your man found. It’ll only strengthen the case.
” He didn’t wait for a response, just gave a short nod and stepped back.
After Betty, Graham, and Bernard left, escorted out by Holden, I stood in the middle of the clubhouse unsure what to do next.
“Brother.” Dutch’s voice came from behind me. “What do you need?”
What did I need? I needed seven years back. I needed to unsay every cruel thing I’d said to Lilac. I needed my sons to look at me with something other than fear and hatred.
But those weren’t things anyone could give me.
“I need to make this right,” I said finally. “And then I need to make Death’s Head pay for what they did.”
Dutch’s hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing hard.
“The first one’s on you, brother. But the second?” His voice went cold. “That’s club business.”