Chapter 7
BEX - WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO?
I have been gone for three days.
Three full days of fluorescent lights humming overhead, trauma bays bleeding into one another, vending machine dinners eaten standing up, and sleeping in an on-call room that smells faintly of industrial detergent.
But also…
Three days of not hearing boots in the hallway, of not feeling watched.
Three days of not bracing for a door slamming somewhere down the corridor.
And… three days of texts from my husband that come in waves.
Not steady, that would make me his focus and right now I know that is solely on club business. .
Declan
You good?
I need to know you are safe…
Two hours later.
Call me.
I don’t and I expect… something. But there’s nothing from him for half a day.
2:14 a.m.
I miss you.
4:30 a.m.
Need you here, baby.
And then yesterday afternoon.
I’m sorry if I’ve been short. Shit is heavy right now.
I didn’t mean it… Before I left for the run. You know I would never step out on you.
And then, later that night.
I love you.
That one stopped me, my hands shook so hard I almost dropped my phone. Because he doesn’t say that casually.
He says it in person, when we are in private. His voice is gravel-thick and low. Usually after sex or when he thinks I’m already half asleep.
Not like this.
I stare at that message longer than I should. Because beneath it, I can read what he isn’t saying.
He wants me back and not just because he misses me. He wants eyes on me, wants me visible. He wants me beside him so the club sees unity. So no one questions anything.
I understand that.
I really do.
But understanding doesn’t quiet the part of me that hasn’t felt accepted or safe with his brother’s.
My shift ends just after sunrise. The early September sky is a washed-out gray-blue.
I walk out through the staff entrance, hair twisted into a low knot, scrubs wrinkled, brain buzzing from too little sleep and too many patients who wouldn’t tell us how they got hurt.
And that’s when I see him.
His black bike angled perfectly, engine off. His boots planted firmly and his cut stretched across his broad shoulders like armour he was born into. He hasn’t shaved, dark stubble shadows his jaw and there’s a crease between his brows that wasn’t there three days ago.
He looks tired and dangerous.
He looks like mine and my stupid heart betrays me immediately.
Like it only wants to beat for him.
He removes his helmet slowly, eyes locked on me like he’s counting seconds until I reach him.
“You’re coming home,” he says.
I stop a few feet away.
“I told you I wasn’t staying if you weren’t with me.”
“I gave you three days to work through whatever this is.” He grinds out.
Whatever this is… like I haven’t been telling him…
I almost want to laugh.
He swings one long leg over his bike and steps into me before I can decide if I’m stepping back.
His hands land on my hips and he pulls me into him.
The kiss is immediate. Deep, possessive and desperate.
Like he is pouring in everything he doesn’t know how to say into this kiss.
He breathes me in like he’s memorizing my scent, like he’s been starving.
And God help me, I soften. Because this is the version of him that made me fall in love. Not the enforcer or the Dawnbreakers brother. Not the man who always seems to choose the club first.
This one.
The one who rests his forehead against mine afterward and closes his eyes like I’m oxygen.
“I hate waking up without you,” he murmurs. And he sounds younger when he says it. Less guarded, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable.
My resolve fractures slightly.
“Declan…” I whisper.
“I’ve got a prospect driving your car back,” he says, already moving, already planning. “You’re riding with me.”
“I didn’t agree to that.” I snap, trying to step back.
“You belong with me.” he growls, holding me close.
Belong.
I know he doesn’t mean ownership. Not in the way some assume… But something in me still hates the term.
He reaches up and slides my helmet over my head himself, without further discussion. His fingers brush my jaw gently as he fastens it.
He’s careful with me. Always careful in small, subtle ways.
He kissed me through the helmet opening before swinging onto the bike and because I missed him too… I climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.
The engine roars to life beneath us, vibrating through my thighs. For a moment, pressed against his back, I let myself pretend. That what is going on between us is only because of the stress. It is just a temporary rough patch.
Once Four is cleared…
Once I give Mara enough time… I can tell him… explain…
Once the club settles…
I shut the thoughts down because I know if I think too hard on this I will see the truth.
There are even more men outside when we arrive at the compound.
The air in the clubhouse feels stifling.
A few of the club girls go quiet when I walk past and whispers follow. Kori is leaning against the bar, arms crossed, one hip cocked. She looks at me like she’s assessing something. Like she is judging something or waiting. I meet her eyes and she looks away first.
Clutch squeezes my hip once when Axel calls him over.
“I’ll find you,” he says.
And just like that, he’s gone and I am alone again in a place I don’t feel safe or wanted.
But he doesn’t see that as he’s pulled back into strategy, into the club hierarchy… Into the circle I will never fully belong to.
I stand there a second longer than I should, feeling like I should have just stayed at the hospital.
I take a deep breath and turn toward the stairs.
Two brothers are posted near the stairwell, which is new.
They have never had guards in the clubhouse.
I smile and nod at them as I pass and see Razor’s door open.
He’s inside, watching the hall. Our eyes meet as I pass his room and he smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes.
It feels like he knows something I don’t or maybe like he wants me to think he does.
I hate waiting for Declan in our room and I decide to go tell him that I am going back to the hospital. He asked me to come back, asked me to be by his side, but then he left me alone… again.
I go looking for him, and I hear it. I’m halfway down the stairs when Razor’s voice cuts through the common room.
“Someone inside tipped them.”
Everything goes still as I strain to hear them.
“With the kind of power you have Angel… They don’t arrest a VP for nothing,” he continues. “That kind of intel doesn’t come from outside.”
My pulse starts ticking harder.
Angel’s voice responds, calm but edged. “Speculation doesn’t help. We can’t be pointing fingers if we don’t have proof.”
“I’m not speculating,” Razor says. “I’m saying somebody on the inside is talking.”
I don’t move, I stay frozen halfway down the steps, trying to calm my racing heart.
Cypher speaks up from the table. “I can’t track Mara’s phone. It’s dead or wiped. No new pings.”
Good, they can’t find her.
“You know I’ve heard that Preacher’s been seen in our territory, sightings of him around the Hospital,” Razor adds casually.
The Hospital?
My stomach flips, everyone has heard stories about his brutality.
Angel’s chair scrapes and his voice drops, “You implying something?”
“I’m suggesting we tighten ranks.” Razor replies and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
The conversation fractures and I step back quietly before anyone sees me listening.
They think someone inside tipped off law enforcement, the pieces are being laid out and I don’t like how easily they could be rearranged.
That night, Declan barely makes it to the room before collapsing onto the bed.
He pulls me into him automatically.
“I need you here,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I am here.” I whisper.
“That’s not what I mean.”
I know.
He means an active part of this club and not isolated in hospital on-call rooms. His arm tightens around me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, but I already feel like I am. For a second, I press my face into his chest and breathe him in. Leather, soap, something uniquely him.
This is the man who once sat with me in silence for an hour because I’d had a hard shift and couldn’t stop replaying it in my mind.
This is the man who proposed twice.
This is the man who held my face in both hands and promised me we would build something solid. But I still feel watched and scared…even with the door closed… even with him wrapped around me.
The next afternoon, Razor steps into my path near the back lot.
“You settling back in?” he asks.
I don’t answer him, I stop, cross my arms over my chest and stare at him.
“You've been at the hospital a lot.” He accuses.
“It’s my job.” I snap.
“Preacher’s been sniffing around that area.”
The words seem casual, but I feel like they are anything but.
“I work at a hospital, Razor. People come and go.” I huff because this feels pointless, but I know Razor has a point.
“Sure.” he smirks and then steps closer. Close enough that I can smell cigarettes and stale whiskey beneath it.
“Loyalty matters here,” he says quietly.
“I know.” I reply never taking my eyes off of him.
“Do you?” His eyes don’t blink.
“Who are you loyal to, Rebecca?” he questions.
I don’t hesitate as I answer. “My husband.”
Mara. Not men like you!
A small smile curves his mouth.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “And who do you think Clutch is loyal to?”
The question hits harder than it should. Because I know the answer, I’ve always known. I just never thought I’d have to worry about it and for the first time since this started, something cold spreads through my chest. Because I know what happens in this world when loyalty is tested.