Chapter Twenty-One
Remi
I fold the clothes I borrowed from Lexi and place them neatly on the end of the bed. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at them, at everything that was supposed to mean safety. A new start. A home.
Then I catch one last look at myself in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes swollen, hair pulled back in a greasy knot. I look like a ghost.
I force myself to move. Down the hallway, down the stairs, each creak of the floorboards sounds too loud, like the building itself is trying to stop me.
It’s exactly ten. Colin isn’t one to be kept waiting.
The yard is still, the air sharp with the promise of rain. A black car idles just beyond the gate, headlights slicing through the gloom. My stomach twists.
He’s here.
I ignore the rain soaking into my white dress and head for the gate, my heart hammering with every step. There’s no turning back now.
He grins when he sees me. “That’s my girl,” he drawls. “Got tired of playing house with the bikers, did you?”
“Do you have it?” My voice is flat, stripped of emotion.
He chuckles, reaching into his coat. A thick envelope appears, and he waves it like a prize. “You always were impatient.”
I snatch it before he can say anything else, peel it open, and see the stacks of notes inside. “Five grand?” I confirm.
He leans closer, his smile never fading. “Five grand for you to come home and play wifey.”
“I just need to settle things first,” I mutter.
He studies me then shrugs. “Don’t keep me waiting, princess.”
The word makes my stomach twist, but I turn and walk back towards the clubhouse anyway, clutching the envelope so tight, it crumples in my hand.
Inside, the noise hits me—music, laughter, bottles clinking—but I push through it all until I reach Axel’s office. He’s behind his desk again, Shadow leaning against the wall beside him. The air between them is already tense when I walk in.
“I came to pay what I owe,” I say, placing the envelope on the desk.
Axel’s brow furrows. “What’s this?”
“Five grand,” I say simply. “What I took, plus extra.”
Shadow moves first, his face full of concern. “Where’d you get that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, forcing my tone flat. “What matters is that I’m done. Debt paid. I’m not your problem anymore.”
His jaw clenches. “Remi—”
Axel’s watching me carefully, weighing the envelope with his eyes. “You sure about this?”
I nod. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”
Shadow steps closer, his voice low but dangerous. “Where. Did. You. Get. It?”
I meet his glare head-on, even though my throat’s closing up. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking,” I snap. His eyes don’t budge, and I sigh, “From the only man who ever really wanted me around. Colin.” I turn back to Axel. “So, I’m clear now. I can leave?”
He gives a slight nod.
I turn towards the door. Shadow’s blocking it, his chest rising hard, anger and hurt flashing behind his eyes.
“Move,” I murmur.
He doesn’t, not at first, then he finally steps aside, his hand brushing mine as I pass.
I groan when I step back outside, realising he’s right behind me. The rain pummels against my skin, plastering my hair to my face as I cross the car park.
“So, you’d rather owe a man who beat you? Who killed your mum?” he demands, falling into step beside me.
“At least I know what to expect from him,” I shout, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “You—” My voice cracks. “You make me think I matter, and then you take it all away. That kind of pain’s worse than anything he could ever do.”
Shadow’s face tightens like I’ve just hit him, but I don’t let myself stop. “So, yeah, I’d rather owe him because I already survived him once.”
Shadow’s fists clench. “Remi—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, shaking my head. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“There are other options.”
I spin to face him, both of us glaring at one another.
“Where?” I scream. “What options?” I wait a beat before continuing.
“Girls like me don’t have many of those,” I almost whisper.
“If it’s not Colin, it’ll be another man trying to take something from me.
Money. My mother. My love. I don’t have anything else, Shadow.
I can’t give anything else. So, please, just let me go and pretend I never came crashing into your life. ”
“What did you promise him?” he asks as I slip through the gate.
I turn back, my fingers gripping the metal. “Me,” I say simply. “He just wants me.”
I turn on my heel and get into the car, slamming the door and leaning my head back. I take a few deep breaths.
Colin grins, his eyes glinting. “Knew you’d see sense,” he says.
I don’t reply. I just stare straight ahead as he pulls away from the clubhouse, leaving behind the only man who ever made me believe I could be more than what Colin turned me into.
The drive is quiet. Colin doesn’t turn on the radio and he doesn’t speak. He keeps one grubby hand on the wheel while the other holds his cigarette, and when I risk a side glance, I see his jaw is tense, like he’s holding back the words until he can really lay into me.
The closer we get, the tighter my chest becomes. The council estate hasn’t changed. Dim streetlights. Broken fences. Houses sagging like they’ve given up, pretty much like most people around here.
And then my childhood home comes into view, and the car stops right outside.
The white paint is yellowed now, peeling like scabbed skin.
One window is cracked, and the wooden frames look mouldy and rotten.
The garden is waist-high in grass and weeds, with a single path leading to the door now covered in moss. Christ, it’s worse than I remember.
Colin steps out like a king returning to his castle. I stay seated until he taps the window with two knuckles. “Come on, princess. Welcome home.”
The smell of the living room hits me first—smoke, sweat, stale beer.
A group of his mates are slouched around, eyes hazy, ashtrays overflowing. A woman I don’t recognise is passed out on the sofa, naked, with one arm hanging off the side. And for a second, I wonder if she’s even alive, but then her chest suddenly rises, and I release a shuddering breath.
Music thuds from the TV, its bass rattling the walls. It’s so loud, they don’t even notice we’ve entered.
It’s not the house I grew up in. At least, not how I remember it. Because even though my mum spent all her time pleasing men, she always tried to run a clean home. Even on the days she spent crying with a broken heart, cleaning gave her purpose, kept her mind busy.
Colin spreads his arms, a huge fake grin on his face. “Home sweet home.”
I don’t step past the doorway. “You’ve let it go,” I say quietly.
He glances around like he’s seeing it for the first time Then shrugs. “Not my job to clean. That was your mother’s.” His eyes slide to me. “A woman’s place and all that. So, get to work.”
Something cold settles inside me. “I’m not doing that,” I say softly.
The room goes still, and one of his friends turns the volume down on the television.
Colin steps closer, his cigarette burning between his fingers. “What did you say to me?”
My pulse thuds in my ears as his stale breath fans over my face. I force myself to hold eye contact. “I said I’m not cleaning up after you.”
The sound happens before I feel it. A sharp crack splits the air, and then my cheek is burning, my head snapping sideways and my knees giving way as I stumble to the floor.
No one reacts. Not one person in that room even flinches.
Colin stands over me, looking down, and his voice is calm, almost bored. “That’s the problem with you,” he says. “You forget your place too quickly.”
My fingertips brush the floorboards, and I blink fast, chasing the tears away before they fall. Something inside me quietly fractures, and I realise this is my mother’s story.
Her life.
Her ending.
And I’ve walked right back into it.
Shadow
Three days.
Three fucking days without her.
The club keeps moving around me—engines, deals, runs, laughter—but it all sounds like static. Like I’m underwater and everyone else is breathing fine.
I’m in the garage, wrench in hand, working on a bike, when Grizz walks in. He takes one look at me and decides silence is his best chance of survival. Smart man.
Then Smoke strolls in, all loud and clueless. “Pres wants you in church. Now.” I don’t answer. I don’t even look up. He shifts his weight. “Shadow, did you hear—”
I turn, wrench clattering to the floor. “I heard you,” I snap.
He blinks. “Right. Okay. Don’t bite my head off.”
“Then stop fucking talking.”
He exchanges a wary look with Grizz then turns on his heel and leaves.
I rake both hands through my hair, gripping hard enough that it hurts.
I haven’t slept properly since that night.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face.
Wrecked. Broken. I put it there, and then I let her walk right back into that fucker’s arms. All because I was pissed.
Because my pride was louder than my goddamn heart.
The door opens again, and this time, it’s Lexi. The one person I don’t have the energy to bully out of my presence.
“You eating?” she asks, her arms folded and her brow arched, daring me to bite back.
“No.”
“Showering?”
“No.”
“Planning to stop acting like a moody prick?”
“No.”
She nods once, like she expected all this. Then she comes closer, resting a hand lightly on my arm.
“You can end all this,” she says gently.
I scoff. “Pass me the gun.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just go and get her.”
“Not happening.”
“She’s in danger with that man. You know she is.”
“She wasn’t scared to call him for help,” I mutter, tightening a bolt.
“She felt she didn’t have a choice. She picked the lesser evil.”
I look away, my jaw locking. “Doesn’t matter. She made her choice.”
“Okay. So, she’s gone for good?” I give a stiff nod. “And you’re letting her go?” I nod again, wiping my hands on a dirty rag. “So, why is your heart still breaking?”
I don’t answer because we both know why. Because I haven’t let her go.
Because I can’t.
Lexi steps back, watching me with the kind of patience only saints and bikers’ wives have learned. “When you’re ready,” she murmurs, “go get her. Before she doesn’t have a choice left.”
She leaves me alone in the garage. The silence is suffocating.
I look down at my hands.
The scars.
The bruised knuckles.
The violence I’m built for.
For the first time in my life, they feel useless. Because I didn’t fight for her.
I just let her go.
“Fuck,” I mutter out loud. “Fuck!” The wrench goes flying. It clangs off the concrete and skitters under a workbench. I grab my kutte, shrug it on, and head for my bike.