30. MARCY
MARCY
Three months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d live through the night.
Now, I’m curled up between Ryder and Hawk on the couch, my nearly six-month belly rising like a gentle hill beneath the knit blanket CJ insisted on covering me with.
The house smells like cinnamon and something slightly burnt—Hawk’s latest experiment in the kitchen.
Ryder’s arm is around my shoulders, CJ is perched in his usual armchair with a mug of coffee that’s probably gone cold, and Sam is on the floor, building something impossibly complicated out of Legos.
And the TV is delivering the sweetest news I’ve ever heard.
“...With ninety-five percent of the precincts reporting, senatorial hopeful Jake Hollingbow has officially conceded the race. His opponent, Melanie Cruz, has won by a record-breaking margin in what political analysts are calling one of the most decisive upsets in state history.”
The camera cuts to footage of my father—what’s left of his public persona, anyway. Hair thinner, eyes dull, that confident, snake-oil grin completely gone. He’s a shadow of the man who once stood behind podiums and power.
Good.
Ryder leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You did that.”
I smile but shake my head. “We did that.”
CJ lets out a quiet laugh. “We just followed your lead. You were the brave one.”
I don’t say anything at first. The only thing I wanted was to save them from my father’s twisted game. And now that that’s done, and he has been exposed, the DA quietly dropped all the charges against the 12 Devils and CJ.
“You did more than that,” I say, rubbing a slow circle over my belly. “You believed me when no one else would. Protected me. And these little ones.”
Oh, yes, did I mention? Turns out I’m having twins. The doctor confirmed it in the sixth-month scan. Came as a bit of a surprise, to be honest, but one the guys took in stride. And the little ones, squirming and strong inside me, remind me every day that the past can stay behind me now.
Hawk’s hand drapes lazily across my leg under the blanket. “Remind me, are we still pretending we know who the father is?”
“Not unless one of you can bend time,” I tease. “Besides, that’s the whole point. The babies have three fathers—and one hell of a backup crew.”
Sam looks up from the floor, eyes wide. “Four dads if you count me.”
We all laugh. God, it feels good to laugh. To be safe. To be surrounded.
To be home. Something that I never thought I could have.
I shift, settling back against Ryder’s chest. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while CJ reaches over and slips his fingers into mine.
“I still can’t believe it,” I whisper.
CJ raises a brow. “That Jake lost?”
“No,” I say, eyes soft as I look around at them. “That somehow, all this chaos brought me to all of you.”
“Plot twist,” Hawk murmurs, grinning.
And as the news rolls into a new segment and one of the babies kicks beneath my palm, I smile and lean back. Still, my mind drifts back to what had transpired that fateful night.
The shot rings out, and I feel a lurch on my side. For a second, I think I’ve been hit.
Everything freezes. The air. My breath. Even my heart.
But then I hear Ryder’s voice shouting, the sound of bodies colliding, and the metallic clatter of the gun hitting pavement.
My father’s on the ground. Hawk’s knuckles are bloodied. CJ’s breathing hard. Ryder has his knee on Jake’s back, pinning him like a ghost from a different life.
I’m still standing. Whole. Shaking, but whole.
The world rushes back all at once. Sirens in the distance. My phone, still in my coat pocket, still on the open call to 911. Right after I managed to call Hawk, I dialed the emergency button while my father was looking away momentarily.
I hadn’t hung up. They heard everything.
Shortly after being knocked out by Hawk, Dad regained consciousness. He was snarling at us like a mad dog.
“You have no idea what you’ve done! You think this is over? I will bury all of you?—”
“Shut up,” Hawk growls, yanking Jake’s arms behind his back. He’s calm, methodical—scary in a way I’ve only seen in flashes before. “You’re done.”
The cruiser rolls in a minute later, red and blue lights spinning across the lot. Two officers step out fast, weapons drawn. And suddenly, I’m terrified again. Not of Jake, but of what might happen next.
One of them freezes when he sees CJ. Recognition flickers. Suspicion follows.
“They attacked me!” Jake bellows, already in performance mode.
“These men—they’re part of a gang. They’ve been harassing my family.
I followed my daughter here to protect her!
” He gestures wildly toward me as Ryder shoves his face back toward the pavement.
“She’s being manipulated—look at her! She’s scared! ”
That much is true. I am scared.
But not of the men behind me.
I take a deep breath and step forward. One of the officers hesitates, watching me closely.
“I’d like to make a formal complaint,” I state.
The officers pause. Even Jake stops talking.
I walk toward them, my heartbeat loud in my ears. “My name is Marcy Hollingbow. And I’d like to file an official complaint against my father, Jake Hollingbow?—”
“Marcy—” he snaps.
“—for attempted murder. He pointed that gun at me and pulled the trigger. Ask your tech team to check the recording on my phone. I was on a call when it happened. Everything was captured. His voice, his threats. The whole thing.”
The younger officer blinks, not expecting what I had to say.
“There’s a loaded weapon on the ground,” I said. “My phone’s in my pocket. Print and voice evidence. You’ll find it all there.”
One of the officers retrieves the gun while another takes my statement.
Jake is still trying to twist. “You can’t believe this. She’s confused. She’s—she’s hormonal, she’s pregnant! They’ve brainwashed her!”
I feel disgusted. He knew I was pregnant. Bianca must have told him. But he still pulled a gun on me.
But no one’s listening to him anymore. The cuffs go on. The charges are noted.
It’s over, I think as I watch my father being led away. The spell he held over me snapped the moment he was dragged away in cuffs, screaming about how we’ve ruined him. And maybe we have.
But only because he gave us the match and doused himself in gasoline.
The next couple of weeks were a blur of small victories.
The Den and our other bars were cleared by the health inspectors—quickly and with no drama this time. It’s like the pressure that had been bearing down on all of us lifted with Jake’s name being dragged through the mud.
And God, did it get dragged.
We released the audio of the parking lot confrontation—his threats, his confession, that disgusting line about killing me for sympathy votes—and the public ate it up. Add in the growing cloud of Project Blackthorne rumors, and the timing couldn’t have been worse… for him.
His campaign floundered. Sponsors pulled out. Allies distanced themselves. His opponent surged ahead.
I don’t even feel bad. Not anymore.
I’d hoped I could find something solid to burn him with. That was why I reached out to Nadia in the first place. After I told her about Bianca, I thought maybe—just maybe—she’d give me something in return. A file. A login. Anything that could tie my father to Blackthorne directly.
But there was nothing.
Nadia disappeared shortly after. Slipped away in the way only someone like her could.
She never had any evidence. Not really.
So, I had to bluff.
And it worked.
My father was too arrogant, too used to controlling the narrative. All I had to do was strike a match and hold it close. He lit the fire himself.
Now, as I sit here—six months pregnant, safe, loved, free—I don’t regret a thing.
I bluffed my way into the truth.
And it brought me everything I ever needed.
My mother didn’t show up at the hearing.
Not for Jake. Not for me.
At first, I didn’t know what to make of that. I was angry, then hurt. Then… I understood. She’s lived so long pretending things were fine, swallowing truth after truth until it calcified into silence. But after the arrest, after it was all over, I got a letter from her.
She told me she was going away. Said she needed to be far from him. From all of it. Somewhere quiet, where she could start over without pretending to be the perfect wife, or the perfect mother, or anything else Jake had sculpted her into.
She didn’t ask for forgiveness. She just said she was proud of me.
It’s not everything. But maybe it’s enough.
As for Bianca… I still don’t know where to begin.
I never heard her side of the story. Not really. Maybe I don’t need to.
Someone told me she moved to D.C. for a “consulting job” with some PR firm. Fitting, honestly. A place where spin is king and truth is optional.
She hasn’t reached out since. And I haven’t, either.
She was part of a chapter in my life that I’ve closed.
I’m not bitter about it. Just… done.
I have my family now. My real family.
CJ. Hawk. Ryder.
Sam, who insists the babies will be named after one of his video game characters.
It’s Ryder who pulls me gently back to reality, brushing his knuckles down my cheek with that easy, quiet affection of his.
“You still with us, sweetheart?” he asks.
I blink and sit up a little straighter. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
I blink, looking between the three of them. CJ’s leaning in the doorway with a grin that says he’s up to something. Hawk’s already got my coat draped over his arm.
My suspicion kicks in immediately. “What now? Is this another fire pit surprise? Because I’m not emotionally prepared for you three to build me a miniature biker clubhouse for the babies.”
Ryder snorts. “Not a bad idea, actually.”
“No,” CJ chuckles. “This is… different.”
“Trust me, Marcy, you’re going to love it,” Sam says, grinning at me.
“Did you guys put him up to this as well? I’m comfy. And pregnant. Did I mention pregnant?” I say, giving the men the most dramatic side-eye I can manage. “And comfy?”
Hawk just walks over and gently lifts me to my feet with those damn strong arms of his like I weigh nothing, blanket and all.