Chapter 4
ASH
Iwake up before dawn because I always wake up before dawn.
Bonnie’s tucked against my side, one arm thrown across my chest, her breathing deep and even. On her other side, Titan takes up half the damn bed, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Ghost’s boots are gone from where he left them by the door last night.
Already out on patrol, probably. The man barely sleeps.
Last night plays through my head in fragments. The bar, Bonnie sitting on my lap, the way she looked at me.
For one year, I’ve wanted her and told myself I couldn’t have her. Jackal’s little sister. The president’s daughter. Off-limits in every way that mattered.
Now I’ve crossed every line I swore I wouldn’t cross, and the only thing I feel is the need to do it again.
I slip out of bed without waking her. My clothes are scattered across the floor, and I dress quietly, pulling on jeans and my T-shirt. My vest with the VP patch hangs over a chair. I grab it and head out, closing the bedroom door behind me.
The cabin’s silent except for the hum of the generator outside. I fire up my phone and check messages. Danny’s reply from last night is still there: Bike’s in the garage. Locked up tight.
I’d texted him right after we got to the cabin, before things went further with Bonnie. Made sure her Softail wouldn’t sit in Rusty’s parking lot overnight, where some asshole could mess with it.
Called her father too. Left a message letting him know she was with me, that she was safe. He never called back, typical. He trusts his daughter’s safety with me.
A few other messages clutter my screen.
Pedro asking about shifts.
Martinez: East side run went smoothly.
Jenkins complaining about some asshole who shorted payment at one of our stops.
I pull up Iron’s number next, and the call goes to voicemail. Even better. I’m not ready to hear his voice yet.
I pocket my phone, then head outside to where my Dyna sits waiting. The sky’s turning from black to deep blue, sun not up yet but close. Cold air bites at my face as I fire up the engine.
One last glance at the cabin. Bonnie’s in there, safe and warm and probably going to wake up with regrets about last night. But that’s a problem for later.
Right now, I need to fix this situation before it’s too late.
The ride to the clubhouse takes thirty minutes; the highway is empty except for a few trucks making early morning runs.
My mind won’t stop working on the problem from every angle, trying to find a way out that doesn’t end with Bonnie married to Marcus Stone. There has to be something Iron’s missing. Some angle he hasn’t considered. Some way to broker peace without sacrificing his daughter.
The clubhouse sits quiet when I pull into the lot. A few bikes are already here—early risers or guys who never went home. I park and head inside, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hitting me as soon as I open the door.
The main room is empty except for Pedro wiping down tables. He nods when he sees me.
“VP.”
“Pedro. Anyone else up?”
“Few guys in the kitchen. Iron’s in his office.”
Of course he is. The man probably didn’t sleep either.
“I need to handle something first,” I tell him. “Iron asks for me, tell him I’ll be there in ten.”
Pedro nods and goes back to cleaning.
I head down the hallway to the small room we use for club business. Files are stacked on the desk, and a laptop sits open to spreadsheets tracking legitimate businesses and less legitimate income streams.
This is the part of being VP that nobody sees. The paperwork, the numbers, and ensuring the club stays financially afloat while the president handles politics.
I spend twenty minutes going through reports from our protection rackets. Three businesses are late on payments, two new ones are requesting our services, and one owner is complaining about the rates. Standard shit that needs handling.
I make notes, send a few texts to brothers who handle collections, and mark the complaints for follow-up. The work gives my hands something to do while my brain keeps circling back to Bonnie.
When I can’t put it off any longer, I head to Iron’s office.
The door’s open. He’s behind his desk, in the same position I saw him in yesterday. He’s wearing a leather vest over a black shirt, with his full gray beard and those green eyes that match those of his daughter. Coffee mug in hand, paperwork spread in front of him.
He looks up when I knock on the doorframe.
“Ash.” His voice gives nothing away. “Got your message. She okay?”
“She’s fine. At the cabin with Titan.”
“Good.” He sets down his mug. “Close the door.”
I do, then turn to face him. “We need to talk about this marriage.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s done.”
“It’s not done until she says I do.” I move closer to his desk. “And I’m telling you right now, this is a mistake.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Iron leans back in his chair. “You think I want to hand my daughter over to that animal?”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I plant my hands on his desk. “We’ve fought the Savage Legion for two years. We can keep fighting.”
“And keep losing.” He stands up, matching my energy. “We’ve lost twelve brothers in the last six months, Ash. Twelve. How many more do you want to bury before you admit we can’t win this war?”
“We can find another way—”
“There is no other way!” His voice rises. “I’ve tried everything. Negotiation, intimidation, alliances with other clubs. Nothing works. Marcus wants our territory, and he won’t stop until he has it or we’re all dead.”
“The Savage Legion are not people who keep their word.”
“He’ll keep it this time. The deal’s too good for him to walk away from.”
“But what he’ll do to her—” I stop myself, trying to keep emotion out of it. “Prez, you know what kind of man he is. What he does to women.”
“I know exactly what kind of man he is.” Iron’s jaw tightens. “You think that doesn’t keep me up at night? But the alternative is watching more brothers die. Watching this club bleed out until there’s nothing left.”
“So we give him Bonnie instead?”
“We give him a reason to call off the war.” Iron stands, moves to the window. “The clubs merge, territories combine, everyone profits. It’s the only play left.”
I want to argue, but the words stick. Because he’s not wrong about our position; we have been losing for months.
“What does Jackal think about this?” I ask carefully.
Iron’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t turn around. “Jackal knows what needs to be done.”
“That’s not what I asked, Prez. Does he know about the marriage?”
“He knows enough.”
“Enough?” Something doesn’t sit right. “He’d never agree to this. He’d fight you on it.”
“Which is why he’s not here.” Iron turns to face me, and for the first time, I see the guilt in his eyes. “I sent him away because if he were here, he’d do something stupid that would get him killed. And I can’t lose both my kids.”
“Prez—”
“You think this is easy for me?” His voice cracks slightly. “Watching her face when I told her? Knowing what’s waiting for her? But I’m the president. My job is to keep this club alive, even when it destroys me.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Part of me understands the weight of leadership and making choices that tear you apart. But the other part sees Bonnie’s face, hears her voice from last night.
“There has to be another option,” I try again.
“There isn’t.” Iron’s voice goes flat. “And you need to accept that.”
“I can’t.”
“Then you’re dismissed.” He moves back to his desk. “Wedding’s in six days. Make your peace with it.”
“What if I—”
A knock at the door cuts me off. We both turn as it opens.
Pedro sticks his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Prez. Got Miller on the phone. Says it’s urgent.”
Iron nods. “I’ll take it.”
Pedro disappears.
Iron looks at me, expression closed off. “We’re done here. And, Ash?” He picks up his phone. “Stay away from my daughter. Last thing she needs is false hope.”
The dismissal is clear. I want to argue, want to flip his desk and make him see reason, but Pedro’s waiting in the hallway, and other brothers are probably within earshot. I’ve already tested the limits of what a VP can say to his president.
So I turn and walk out, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache.
The hallway feels like it’s closing in. I head for the exit, needing air, needing space, needing anything other than the crushing realization that I might not be able to save Bonnie from her fate.
Outside, the sun’s fully up now, bright and warm and completely at odds with the cold fury burning in my chest.
I failed.