Chapter 9
Havoc watches June and Savannah as they make their way into the house.
Then, once they're inside, he turns to me, meat tongs in hand.
"I hope you know what you're gettin' in to, Legion.
That woman you've got, she's not like the rest. And by 'the rest' I do mean any other fuckin' woman you've ever met. "
"Tell me about it," I say, taking a pull of my beer.
"You think I don't know that, Havoc? I've been in love with that woman since she was a twelve-year-old girl. I was fourteen when we started this… affair, I guess it is. She was my first. I was hers too. What we have isn’t new. It’s older than Hell itself and I know who Savannah Ashby is better than anyone else in this world.”
"That's why I'm telling you this."
"Telling me what?"
"That if you want her, you had better be ready to fight for her. Because there ain't no Ashby in the world—and by Ashby, I mean rich-mother fucker, regardless of the last name—who will let their carefully cultivated family matriarch be swept off her feet by a man like you."
Before I can take offense, he puts up a hand.
"Or man like me. Men like us, Legion? We don't marry the fuckin' princess. We can fuck them, feed them, eat them out on the porch. But we don't marry them."
I look out at the setting sun—it's really low now. Maybe half an hour, it'll be gone and then there will be nothing but these fairy lights above our heads. A fantasy.
I look back at Havoc. "So? I mean, what am I supposed to do with that information?"
"I dunno," he admits, flipping a rack of ribs with practiced precision.
"I'm just reminding you, it don't happen this way.
There's gonna be a fight, Legion. And it's gonna be ugly.
If you love this woman, you better be prepared to fight for her like your life depends on it.
And if you're not willing to blow up every fuckin' bridge you ever crossed to keep her, well.
.." He gives me a sad look now. "Maybe you should cut your losses. "
The scoff comes out automatically. But before I can launch into a rebuttal, the screen door creaks open. June and Savannah emerge carrying steaming dishes, both smiling about somethin’ I missed.
The sight of Savannah in that dress, her hair catching gold in the setting sun, makes my chest ache where the brand sits raw against my skin.
"Hope you boys are hungry," June calls out. "Savannah's quite the cook."
Savannah catches my eye, a silent laugh passing between us. She can barely boil water. We both know it.
The women set down their offerings—corn bread, beans, some kind of potato salad—then disappear back toward the garden, voices trailing behind them like ribbons. Something about tomatoes.
I watch Savannah's hips sway as she walks away, the dress moving against her like a second skin. When I turn back, Havoc's watching me with the patient stare of a man who's seen this story before.
"That woman's got you wrapped around her finger so tight you're turnin' blue, brother." He takes a long pull from his beer. "And that's your business. But when it bleeds into club business? It becomes my business."
"I've never given the club a reason to doubt me." The words come out sharp, defensive. "Three years, Havoc. Three years in Whitefall and I never said a word. Not one fucking word."
"I know." He nods, respecting the sacrifice. "That's why you got your patch. That's why you got your brand. But loyalty ain't a one-time payment, Legion. It's a subscription service."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "So what? I'm supposed to pick? The club or her?"
"I'm not saying that." Havoc turns the ribs again, his movements controlled. Nothing wasted. "I'm saying you need to figure out how to balance them both. Because right now? You're failing."
"Fuck you."
"That vote was the first split we've had in years." Havoc doesn't even flinch at my anger. "Eight men voted against you. Eight brothers who bled with you, who would have died for you yesterday, decided your judgment was compromised. You know how rare that is?"
I do. And it burns worse than the brand on my chest.
"Votes are never unanimous," I counter, but my voice lacks conviction.
"Not on business decisions, no. But on family matters? They usually are." Havoc points the tongs at me. "And this was about a woman. An Ashby woman. With connections to every powerful family in three counties. With a fiancé who's the son of a goddamn state senator."
I look away, across the yard where Havoc's kids are playing some complicated game involving sticks and shouting. Normal life. Somethin’ I've never had.
"And then," Havoc continues, lowering his voice, "your sister shows up with Colt fucking Ashby and a baby. At our gates. After we voted to protect Savannah. What the fuck was that?"
The question hangs between us like smoke. I wish I had an answer that made sense.
"I dunno," I finally admit. "I don't know what that was."
"Well, you better figure it out. Fast." Havoc's voice drops even lower, almost a growl. "Because this is drama, Legion. And the more it follows you across the Badlands gate, the more men will vote against you next time."
"Next time?"
“There's always a next time." Havoc looks at me with something like pity. "And next time will be the time it counts."
The words land like body blows. I know he's right. The club operates on a balance—loyalty to the patch versus loyalty to the man. Right now, I'm tipping the scales in a dangerous direction.
"So what would you do?" I ask, hating how the question tastes.
Havoc sighs, looking suddenly older than his years. "I'd remember that the club was there before her, and it'll be there after. I'd remember that forty-seven men are watching how you handle this. And I'd find a way to make peace with the Ashbys before they bring the kind of heat that burns us all."
"Make peace?" I laugh bitterly. "After what they did to her?"
"Not saying forgive. I'm saying neutralize." Havoc glances toward the garden where the women's voices float back to us. "Find leverage. Find dirt. Find something that makes them back the fuck off for good. Because right now, all you've done is piss them off."
I take a long drink, letting the beer wash down the anger rising in my throat. The sun touches the horizon now, bleeding red across the sky. In the distance, I can see Savannah and June walking back, a basket of something between them.
"She's worth it," I say quietly. "Whatever comes."
"Maybe so." Havoc nods. "But is she worth Mercy losing her brother again? Is she worth forty-seven men losing their livelihood if the law comes down? Is she worth burning everything you built while you were inside?"
I don't answer because I don't trust what might come out of my mouth. The brand on my chest throbs with each heartbeat, a reminder of promises made and kept. Savannah's getting closer now, laughing at something June said, looking like she belongs here in this yard, in this life. With me.
"You're a good man, Legion," Havoc says, surprisin’ me. "Better than most who wear the patch. But good men make bad decisions when their hearts get involved. And bad decisions in our world—they don't just hurt you. They hurt everyone standing behind you."
As I watch Savannah approach, I feel something between love and terror creep up my spine. I've spent my whole life fighting—for respect, for survival, for her. But this might be the first time I've understood what I stand to lose.
"Just think about it," Havoc says, lifting the ribs from the grill. "That's all I'm asking."
Savannah reaches us, her smile bright but her eyes questioning as they move between Havoc and me. She can sense the tension, read it in the set of my shoulders.
"Everything okay?" she asks, her fingers finding mine, squeezing gently.
"Just man talk," Havoc answers before I can, his voice suddenly light. "Boring stuff about motorcycle parts."
I force a smile, but my mind is racing through every possibility, every threat, every choice that led us here. Eight votes against. A sister with an Ashby baby. A woman wearing my mark while her family plots revenge.
"Dinner's ready," June announces, clapping her hands to summon the children.
As everyone moves toward the table, Savannah holds me back, her eyes searchin’ mine.
"What's wrong?" she whispers.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, memorizing the feel of her skin. "Nothing," I lie. "Everything's perfect."
But Havoc's words echo in my head like a warning bell.
Next time will be the time it counts.
We sit around the wooden tables under the pavilion that acts like an outdoor kitchen while the sky bleeds out, red-gold light washing across the yard.
Dinner's served family-style—platters of ribs, corn on the cob, biscuits, and coleslaw passed from hand to hand. The Dun kids' faces glow in the setting sun, all six of them jostling for position and talking over each other.
"Dad, I landed the double jump today," the oldest boy says, barbecue sauce smeared across his chin.
"Did you check your suspension after?" Havoc asks, not missing a beat.
"Yes, sir. Just like you showed me."
The second boy pipes up. "I'm gonna try it tomorrow."
"Not until I check your bike first," Havoc says, pointing a rib bone at him. "You bend that frame again, and you're walking till Christmas."
I watch them, these outlaw children with their normal lives. The contradiction doesn't escape me. They pass bowls and argue about whose turn it is to feed the dog.
"Misty's gonna foal any day now," the oldest girl tells Savannah, eyes bright with excitement. "Dad says I can help this time."
"That's amazing," Savannah says, and I can hear the genuine interest in her voice. "What breed?"
"Quarter horse. We're breeding for barrels." The girl beams with pride. "I'm taking Starlight to the fair next weekend for the 4-H competition."
"Your first show?" Savannah asks.
"Third," the girl corrects. "But first time in the advanced division."
June serves seconds before anyone asks, fillin’ plates that never quite empty. She moves with the efficiency of someone who's fed an army, which I suppose she has.
"Speaking of the fair," June says, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "it's next weekend. All the kids have projects. Ethan's showing his woodwork, Leila's got her photography, and of course, the horses." She looks at Savannah, then me. "You two should come with us. Make a day of it."
Savannah turns to me, a question in her eyes. I shrug, knowin’ damn well that Savannah Ashby, who's spent her life in curated Instagram moments, would probably love a real county fair with its dirt, and sugar, and chaos.
"Sure," I say. "Sounds good."
Savannah's smile is worth whatever bullshit I'll have to endure. One of the Dun twins pipes up from the end of the table. "Do you really have demons inside you?" he asks me, eyes wide. "Cuz Dusty at the gate says you do."
"Michael!" June scolds, but I wave it off.
"Just the one," I tell the kid, keeping my face serious. "Keeps me warm in the winter."
The boy considers this, nodding like it makes perfect sense, and goes back to his corn. Across the table, Havoc's eyes meet mine—a silent warning that this is exactly the kind of talk that spreads.
I don't give a fuck. Let them believe what they want.
Sometimes a reputation keeps you safer than a gun.
"Dad's building a Camaro," one of the boys tells Savannah. "’69. It's in the outbuilding by the stables."
"Restoration project," Havoc explains, almost looking embarrassed. "Something to keep my hands busy when I'm home."
"He won't let anyone touch it," June says with a smile. "Not even me."
"Some things a man needs to do himself," Havoc says, and I nod because I understand.
Some work is prayer.
Some work is penance.
Sometimes they're the same thing.
Dinner winds down as the light fades. We eat dessert bathed in the same comfortable conversation. And when that’s over June stands. "Alright, time for bed," she announces. This is met with a chorus of groans. "No arguments."
"Can we show Savannah the horses first?" the oldest girl asks.
"Another time," June says firmly. "Now scoot."
I watch them file inside, these children with their outlaw father and their normal lives. They each stop to kiss Havoc goodnight, even the oldest boy who's trying so hard to be a man. June follows them in, promising to return once they're settled.
Havoc pulls out two beers and a bottle of whiskey, settin’ them on the table between us. Savannah takes a beer. I shake my head at both, pulling out my cigarettes instead.
"Mind?" I ask, tapping the pack.
"Just stay downwind of the house," Havoc says. "June'll have my ass if the kids smell it."
I light up, taking that first deep drag that feels like salvation. The nicotine hits my bloodstream as I exhale toward the darkening sky. Stars are coming out now, one by one, pinpricks in the black canvas above us.
"How'd you and June meet?" Savannah asks, taking a sip of her beer.
Havoc leans back in his chair, a smile softening his usually hard face. "Army. We were both stationed in Germany. She outranked me."
"Still does," I mutter, and Havoc laughs.
"Damn straight." He pours himself a finger of whiskey. "Third date, she described this life to me. This exact one we're living. The land, the house, the kids, all of it. Asked if it was my idea of paradise."
"And you said yes," Savannah fills in.
Havoc nods. "I said it was. She said, 'Let's make it happen.'"
I take another drag, once again studyin' the stars. In my head, I'm wondering how this squares with the Badlands patch on his cut, with the gun room, with the blood I know he's spilled.
This little slice of heaven doesn't come cheap, and it doesn't come clean.
June returns, sliding into the chair beside Havoc. She must read the question on my face because she answers before I can ask it.
"This world doesn't owe you shit," she says, her voice suddenly harder than it's been all night. "If you want something, you have to take it. If you have a dream, you have to make it."
"And in order to make it, you need family. That's what the club is," Havoc says, looking directly at Savannah now. "Family."
I grunt in agreement, liftin’ my cigarette in a mock toast. "To fuckin' family."
Family is Mercy waiting for me at the clubhouse.
Family is Destiny driving away with an Ashby baby in her arms.
Family is the men who voted to keep Savannah safe, and the eight who didn't.
Family is the weight that keeps you breathin’ when you want to stop.
It's not perfect.
It doesn't have to be perfect.
It just has to be enough.