Chapter 17
CLUTCH - WHAT I CHOSE
The parking lot outside the sheriff’s substation is lit up like a damn stage.
Two buzzing floodlights bolted to the building throw harsh white across the asphalt.
Long shadows stretch under bikes and boots.
Patrol cars line one side of the lot, doors closed but engines still ticking hot from earlier runs.
The whole place smells like exhaust, and dust.
Why the fuck is Four being released now… at this time of night?
I scrub my hand down my face willing for anything to make sense. The past weeks are playing on loop in my mind begging me to pay attention. Like I am missing something. But I am so fucking tired and I need to get back.
I need to see her, even if she doesn't want to see me. Even for a second… I…
Fuck, I need to focus, because we’re not the only ones waiting.
Three Devil’s Ride bikes sit along the far curb. Two men lean against the wall beside them, arms folded over their cuts, watching everything without pretending otherwise.
A pair of locals I recognize from a smaller club farther south stand off near the road, talking low.
Everyone’s here for the same reason. They all know a war is brewing, but nobody really knows why and that is setting everyone off.
Especially when a VP of a long standing club gets held this long and the rumours have been poisoning everyone.
They all want to see what happens when he gets released.
Four.
Being released to house arrest doesn’t mean shit when the man walking out the door is Vice President of the Dawnbreakers.
Presence matters, Angel said that himself. We show up for him with presence.
I lean back against the hood of the truck the prospect drove down and stare at the station doors.
The metal frame reflects the floodlights, bright enough to sting if you look too long.
Inside those doors Jack is finishing paperwork. The DA’s golden boy. The same one who’s been building Four’s case piece by piece for months now, the one who pulled the fucking trigger on a lie and is desperately trying to fix it now.
The same one who’s been sniffing around our club like he’s waiting for someone to slip. And tonight of all nights we’re supposed to stand here calm and patient while he hands our VP back to us like this is all routine.
My jaw aches with how hard I have been clenching it lately.
Nothing has been routine. It’s like someone keeps stirring all the different pots waiting for them to spill over just to see where we will run to first.
Torch kicks a loose rock across the pavement, the little stone skips twice and disappears under a cruiser.
“You gonna say anything?” he asks finally.
I don’t look at him, but I reply, “About what.”
He better not say her fucking name.
“About the fact you’ve been standing there looking like someone ripped your spine out.”
Axel sighs quietly beside us. “Leave it, Torch.”
Torch snorts and says, “No.”
He folds his arms across his chest, the burn scar on his wrist silver under the light.
“I’m not leaving it.” he adds.
My fingers curl slowly against the truck hood. But I don’t say shit, because if I open my mouth right now there’s a good chance something ugly comes out.
The station doors stay closed, a patrol officer walks past the front windows inside, silhouette blurred through the glass. Every second of waiting stretches too long.
I need to get back. She is there thinking… fuck, thinking we are over. Thinking the worst of me.
I rub at the ache in my chest.
Too much time for my head to fill with shit I don’t want to see again.
Bex standing in the middle of the clubhouse floor, blood running down her chin. The way she used the cut to wipe the blood from her mouth and then held it out toward me like it weighed more than the world.
Take it.
Her voice cracked and those two words held so much pain and sorrow… grief even. Like she was already grieving us.
I swallow hard and drag a hand over my mouth, over the spot I know will now have a scar on her perfect lips.
Across the lot one of the Devil’s Ride guys lights a cigarette, the flame flares bright in the dark. Blue eyes flash in the light and the fucker winks at me. Torch watches him for a second, then looks back at me.
“You know what the worst part of tonight was?” he asks.
“Torch.” Axel’s warning is quiet.
Torch ignores him.
“The worst part,” he says calmly, “was watching you fucking stand there like a good boy.”
Something inside my chest tightens.
“I wouldn’t want you moving without permission.”
“Don’t.” I warn.
“Don’t what?” he taunts, stepping closer. “Don’t say what everyone in that room was thinking?”
My head snaps toward him.
“Watch your mouth.” I grind out the warning.
Torch laughs, it’s not his usual laugh. This one sounds tired, resigned.
“Or what.”
I push off the truck before I realize I’m moving. He doesn’t step back, or flinch. Just stands there waiting for what we all know will happen if he keeps pushing.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I say, my voice all gravel.
Torch tilts his head.
“Really?” he asks. Then he gestures vaguely toward the highway behind us. “You spent all day running around chasing rumors about your wife because you assume you’re the only one who believes she didn’t do anything.”
My jaw tightens, but he keeps going.
“But those of us that have actually spent any time with her, got to know her… We fucking know she would never do anything to harm Mara.” He laughs again, spits on the ground and then locks eyes with me. “And then you walk into the clubhouse and watch her get torn apart in front of everyone.”
My hands ball into fists, but Torch doesn’t fucking stop.
“And when Razor hit her…”
That’s it, I grab him by the collar and slam him back into the truck. The metal dents with a loud bang.
Axel moves instantly. “Clutch…”
Torch doesn’t fight back, he just stares at me. His dark eyes steady, looking almost bored.
“You act like you’re hurt,” he says.
My grip tightens.
“You act like you love her.”
The words hit harder than any punch.
Torch’s voice doesn’t change. “You talked about building her a house.”
My stomach drops.
“You talked about getting her out of the clubhouse.”
He shakes his head slowly.
“But what I saw tonight?”
His eyes sharpen.
“You don’t love her. You love yourself and the fucking club.”
My hand tightens in his cut.
“Careful.” I growl, but every word… everything he is saying is eating at me.
He pushes into the knuckles at his neck, his eyes flaring wide when he continues saying, “She was right, Clutch. She was fucking right! About it all.” He sighs and drops his weight back down on the hood. “That’s not the same club I joined.”
Torch’s mouth twitches. “Hell, I’m not even sure it’s been that club for a long damn time.”
The station doors slam open and all three of us look as Four steps out into the floodlights.
For a second the entire parking lot goes still.
He looks different, it hasn't been that long since I’ve seen him.
. Not really. It’s like he has a sharper edge to him tonight.
But the way he carries himself hasn’t changed at all. Like gravity follows him around.
The cocky fucker, Jack, walks out behind him holding a folder. He says something I don’t bother hearing. Four scans the lot, his eyes landing on us. Then on me and he stops, completely.
“Jesus,” he mutters.
He walks down the steps slowly, boots echoing against the concrete and the whole lot watches him cross toward us. When he reaches the edge of the light he studies my face for a long second, my hands at Torch’s neck.
Then he asks the question. “Why do you look like someone died?”
Torch huffs out a laugh. The words come out before anyone can stop him. “Not someone. But Clutch’s marriage sure as hell did.”
Everything inside me snaps, I release Torch and swing. Axel grabs my arm mid-motion.
“Clutch!”
The punch still connects halfway and Torch’s head snaps sideways, slamming into the hood.
He spits blood and laughs again. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
I lunge forward again, but a hand slams into my chest and shoves me back, like I am being moved by a mountain.
Four.
He steps between us like a damn wall.
“What the hell is wrong with you two.”
Torch wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ask him. Ask, Clutch, what happened tonight. What they did to Bex.”
Four’s eyes flare as he looks at me again, studying me like all the answers are just sitting there.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on.” He asks, but he really isn’t asking.
My chest rises and falls hard.
“He didn’t do shit either.”
It’s a weak excuse and everyone knows it. But I don't get a chance to say it before Torch is snapping back.
“Are you fucking kidding me. Like anyone was going to get mixed up in that shit show when her own fucking husband stood by and watched it happen. With Angel on edge. With Mara’s disappearance bringing up everything he’s buried about Kiara’s death.
” Torch is breathing heavily, he takes a deep breath and says, “But if you would have done anything, people would have followed.”
I don’t respond. Because I don’t even know where the hell to start.
Torch scoffs, then adds, “His wife just burned the club to the ground.”
Four’s brow furrows.
“What?”
Torch gestures vaguely toward me. “Verbally broke down our entire toxic culture and threw her cut at his feet.”
Silence drops over us.
Four’s gaze shifts back to me slowly, asking, “Is that true.”
I look away, because the look on his face is too much for me right now… That’s all the answer he needs.
He exhales once through his nose, then he steps closer. His voice is lower now. “Alright.”
He glances at the Devil’s Ride guys watching from the curb, then back at us.
“We can tear each other apart later.”
His eyes settle on me again. “But right now we need to get the hell out of here.”
Torch snorts but doesn’t argue.
Four jerks his head toward the bikes.
“Because judging by the look on your face…” His voice tightens just slightly. “Whatever happened back there?” He pauses. “…we’re going to need a lot more time to unpack that clusterfuck.”
He turns and starts toward the bikes and Torch pushes off the truck. Axel releases my arm, but I stand there for one second longer trying to get my breathing under control.
The floodlights buzz overhead and the station doors close behind Jack. The prospects jump in the truck and slam the doors. But all I can think is that Bex is back at the clubhouse thinking I don’t love her.
And I’m standing in a parking lot over an hour away…
Because that’s what I chose.