Twenty-One
Forgiveness is not something I was looking for until now. But is it too late?
W hen I was younger, I thought I was fucking invincible.
Figured I could move through life without consequence, like every shit choice I’ve made wouldn’t catch up to me.
I walked like the world owed me something and believed nothing could break me—not bullets, heartbreak, or betrayal.
But that’s the kind of bullshit you believe when you’re young, dumb, and too full of ego to recognize how fragile life really is.
I used to think you shape your destiny minute by minute, day by day—like that gave me control.
Like I could steer my life away from the wreckage I kept creating.
What I didn’t realize was how those small regrets I buried—those tiny, quiet fuckups I thought didn’t matter—would snowball into the biggest mistakes of my life.
And now?
Now I’m choking on every one of them. What the fuck do you do when all the secrets come out? What do you do when the truth carves you up and paints you as the villain in your own story?
After church, I had to get the fuck out of there. Call me weak. Call me a pussy. I don’t give a shit. When your world falls apart from the inside out—when you're blindsided by betrayal from people you would’ve taken a bullet for—you need space. Breathing room. Time.
Time to fall apart.
A brother—someone I called family, someone who knew me since I was a kid—turned on us. Sold us out. And the woman I built a fucking life with? The mother of my daughter? A traitor. A liar. A damn spy planted in my bed, in my home, in my club.
Nearly dying wasn’t the hardest part.
Living with this? That’s what’s killing me.
I walked away because I would’ve burned it all down if I'd stayed. Every wall, every tie, every motherfucking thing. My rage is too big, my heart too wrecked, and my mind too clouded to lead like I’m supposed to.
I needed time to scream. To break shit. To feel every ounce of fury and heartbreak ripping me apart.
To drown in guilt, because that’s the truth of it—I did this.
I let them in. I trusted the wrong people.
I wasn’t paying attention, and that could cost me everything.
What do you do when your whole fucking life implodes?
What do you do when every mistake you've ever made becomes the wreckage you have to crawl through?
What do you do when the only person you have left to blame is the one staring back at you in the mirror?
You bleed.
You rage.
You survive… if you’re lucky.
But me? Right now, I don’t feel fucking lucky.
I feel like the fool who destroyed his own kingdom.
My phone’s been ringing nonstop since dawn. Calls. Messages. Missed alerts stacked like guilt, I wasn’t ready to deal with. But when his name flashes across the screen, I answer.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Son.”
That one word from him... and then silence.
Heavy, weighted. All I can hear are our breaths, uneven and quiet.
I don’t know what to say to him. What the fuck can I say to the man I’ve looked up to my entire life?
The man who made me who I am, who I wanted to be…
proud of me? What the hell do you say when you know you’ve failed him?
“Talon, I know, son. I know.” His voice, rough as gravel, lands softly in my chest. There’s understanding laced into those words, the kind that slips past walls and armor.
And I break. I don’t mean to. I didn’t plan to. But I fucking shatter.
I cry.
Not quiet tears. Not the kind you wipe away and pretend never happened. No, this is the kind of crying that hollows you out.
I cry for being such a goddamn fuck-up.
I cry because I’ve let down the man I swore I’d never disappoint.
I cry for my mother. For my brothers. For my club.
I cry for Gabriella—for the way I mishandled her, mistreated her.
I cry for seventeen fucking years. I missed with my sons.
I cry like a broken man.
“I almost died,” I whisper, voice ragged. “I almost fucking died not knowing my life was a fucking lie. A lie that could’ve cost this family everything.”
“Let it out, boy,” Pop says, steady and calm. “I’ll tell you what—any man who doesn’t cry… doesn’t feel… ain’t a man worth shit. Real men bleed. Real men break. Even the toughest motherfuckers got hearts, and when those hearts take too many hits—they crack. They shatter. They scream.”
His voice shakes near the end, and I hear it. Feel it.
And that damn near wrecks me all over again.
“I need to see you. I need to be there for my boy. So whatever the hell you’ve barricaded that damn door with, move it.” His voice sharpens. “Ain’t nobody following me in. I won’t allow it. You hear me, Brian?”
I exhale a soft, broken laugh. That’s my Pop—feral when it comes to protecting his own. No hesitation. No compromise.
“Yeah, Pop. I hear you.”
The line goes quiet again. I hear boots moving, the rustle of him making his way to me. I stand slowly, legs tight from how long I’ve been sitting like a ghost in this room. I look at the door and the dresser I shoved against it like a scared kid.
I’m the motherfucking president of one of the most feared MCs on the West Coast…
and I’ve been holed up in here like a panicked teenage girl.
Shit, even my daughter’s pulled this stunt before.
Hell, I think I yelled at her for it last year.
I let out a humorless chuckle, dragged the dresser back, unlocked the deadbolt, and yanked off the bar across the door.
The thing clatters to the floor. First time I ever used the damn thing. Meant it to protect Heather and Luna.
Irony’s a bitch, I think as I shake my head and look around the space. It looks like a war zone. I destroyed everything. Furniture flipped. Glass shattered. Her clothes? Shredded. Her perfume? Smashed. Her presence? Erased. And I don’t regret one fucking second of it.
The knock comes.
I sit back on the edge of my bed—the only thing still intact. I glance around at the wreckage and, oddly, feel lighter, like ripping through her shit gave me back a piece of myself.
The door opens.
Pop steps inside.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” he whistles low, eyes sweeping the destruction. “You fucked shit up, didn’t you, kid?” He says with amusement in his voice and stepping in.
I hear something crunch under his boots as he closes the door behind him, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.
The grays in his scruff makes him look more wolf than man, but he’s still solid, still the rock.
Tall, broad, fierce. Built like a brick wall.
I got my height from him, my voice from him, my fire from him.
My eyes, though—those belong to Ma. Only one of her boys with green eyes.
Used to be my greatest weapon with women.
Funny how the same thing that got me laid helped lead me to ruin.
Pop steps closer and, without a word, pulls me into him.
Wraps his arms around me like he used to when I was a kid who skinned his knee, like that hug could fix everything.
And in some fucked-up way—it almost does.
He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t say a word. Just lets me be .
Nearly forty years old, sobbing into my father’s chest like the broken man I am.
When I finally pull back, my throat feels raw, his shirt’s soaked, and my hands won’t stop shaking.
“You should never be ashamed of being a man who feels ,” he says, voice deeper, tighter. “You hear me, boy? That’s strength. That’s not weakness. This shit? This pain? It proves you give a damn. And I know you do.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He gives me a beat, then speaks again—calmer now, more resolute.
“Yeah, this shit hit hard. Rocked all of us. But don’t think for a second you’re alone in it. You’re not the only one who missed it, Talon. I should’ve taken Demon and that goddamn club out years ago. Maybe then you’d still be with the girl who never stopped fighting for you.”
His voice grows sharp again. “That bitch —Heather—she’s marked. I don’t give a fuck what she says. She played all of us. Lied. Stole time. Stole blood. That’s the kind of betrayal you don’t come back from.”
He paces, furious energy rolling off him.
“Seventeen years she kept you from knowing about the kids. Played a role in keeping them from you. From me. From your mother. We missed birthdays. First steps. Football games. All of it. She’ll pay for that.”
He pauses, turns to me.
“But just so you know—those kids? That girl? They’re the ones who took care of your momma’s problem the other night. That’s one less thing on your plate. Gabriella didn’t want to burden you with it.”
That part hits harder than I expect. I figured she’d cut ties, say fuck us all, and be done. But she handled it. Even now.
Pop sees my reaction and smirks. “Yeah, I figured you’d look like that. She and the kids will be at the meeting this afternoon. Be prepared.”
He steps toward the door, but lingers, like he has one last card to play.
“Heather’s been losing her shit. Calling, texting, throwing tantrums. Your brothers are dealing with her. Your ma wiped her hands clean the second she found out what Heather’s done.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“Don’t look at me like that. Your mother needed to know the full picture. She’s keeping Luna close. She’s pissed. And Nitro? Let’s just say he almost tossed Heather out on her ass.”
He turns fully, hand on the door.
“I called for church. You’ve got just over an hour to shit, shower, and shave. Then get your ass out there and show this club what it means to carry the title of President. You’ve had your time. You earned it. But now?”
He narrows his eyes, voice hard and steady.
“Now you remind these motherfuckers who the hell they’re dealing with.”
He opens the door, taps the jamb once with his knuckle.
“And don’t forget—we get our retribution. Every last one of those bastards are living on borrowed time.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and I sit there a moment longer. Then I stand, because he’s right.
Time to go to work.
My mother arranged for the big shindig that was supposed to happen yesterday to continue today, which has kept her, Heather, and the other ol’ ladies busy with preparations.
Good. Because I can’t deal with that woman right now.
I’m grateful to my mother and the ol’ ladies for stepping in, especially since I know my father also had a hand in it.
Given how my mother feels about Heather these days, it wouldn’t surprise me if she volunteered to keep her busy to avoid choking the life out of her. I get it. I’m liable to do it myself.
So yeah, thank fuck for the separation.
I make my way into church, and it’s a full house. Every officer’s present, except the traitorous bastard. Which reminds me, we’ll need a new Road Captain. I pull out my phone and shoot Axel a quick text as a reminder. And then put my phone in the box, he’ll get the message later.
Gabriella’s already here with my boys—and her man, Armand, seated beside her. Then I spot them. Two girls seated to her left. My brows draw together.
The conversation I had in the hospital with my brothers comes rushing back—about the daughter I didn’t know I had. But staring across the table now, I’ve got more questions than answers. They meet my gaze head-on, not flinching, not looking away. My lip quirks up.
Damn. No fear. Not from anyone in their circle.
The boys keep glancing my way, too, not with the same venom as before. It’s not warm, but it’s progress.
I straighten up, slam my palm down on the table. “All right. Before we kick this meet and greet off—get the fuck out.”
Grumbles echo around the table from the brothers.
Pop’s voice cuts through it. “Calm your shit. It’s only for a few minutes. We’ve got family business to handle. Give us the room, you ungrateful bastards.” He chuckles, waving them off.
When Pop speaks, you listen. Light-hearted or not, that’s the final word.
Once the last man exits, my father locks eyes with me. “Talon. I heard about what went down when Gabriella showed up. You lost your shit. Ran your mouth. But you’re not doing that today. You hear me, boy?” He says, giving me a look that says he will put me down if I fuck up.
I glare at him, confused and on edge. “What now?” I mutter. “Seriously, Pop. I just came out of a coma. Can the universe give me five goddamn minutes to breathe?”
“Brian.”
My name. From her mouth.
It punches the air from my lungs. My eyes close. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her call me that—my real name. And hearing it now? Fuck, it hits different.
There’s so much between us. So much shit, we still have to untangle.
So much pain I caused. I was a complete asshole.
I own that now. I’ve had time to think—too much time.
And the one thing I couldn’t stop circling back to was us.
I ended our story. I drove her away. Lied.
Cheated. Cut her down when she came back.
But I’m not letting that stand as our final chapter. I can’t.
I open my eyes.
She’s staring at me. Those brown eyes I once loved, that used to look at me like I hung the moon, until I taught her to hate me. But right now… right now, those eyes aren’t guarded. They aren’t cold. There’s no fury. No wall.
Just her. The girl I ruined. The girl I failed.
And then, just as fast, the warmth vanishes. The wall slams back into place. Her expression shifts. The Ice Queen returns.
Fuck.
SEE YOU SOON!!!