Chapter 7 - Wilder
The chapel feels smaller than usual with only Ghost and me inside. The rest of the brothers are making final preparations, checking weapons, going over the assault plan one last time. But Ghost pulled me aside, his face unreadable as he closed the chapel door behind us.
"You need to get your head straight before we roll out," he says, lighting a cigarette despite the club's indoor smoking ban. No one, not even Reaper, calls out the VP on his small rebellions.
"My head's fine," I tell him, leaning against the reaper table. "I know what I need to do if things go south."
Ghost takes a long drag, studying me through the haze of smoke. "It's not the contingency plan I'm worried about."
"Then what?"
"You and the president's daughter." He says it bluntly, in typical Ghost fashion. No preamble, no softening the blow. "I've seen the way you look at her. The way she looks at you."
My spine stiffens. "I'm just doing my job. Protecting her like Reaper asked."
"Bullshit." Ghost's laugh is a rough, humorless sound. "I've known you a year, brother. I've seen you with other women. This is different."
I want to deny it, but lying to Ghost is pointless. The VP has an uncanny ability to see through people's defenses, to spot the truth they're hiding even from themselves.
"It doesn't matter," I say instead. "Nothing's going to happen."
"Something already is happening." He flicks ash onto the floor. "You took a knife for her today. That goes beyond duty to the club."
I can't argue with that. The moment those Vultures MC appeared at the diner, my only thought had been keeping Emma safe. Not because she's Reaper's daughter, but because the thought of her being hurt had become unthinkable.
"Look," Ghost continues, "I'm not here to lecture you on club politics or the dangers of getting involved with Reaper's kid. You already know you're fucked."
"Thanks for that assessment." I rub my injured arm absently. "Very helpful."
"What I am saying is that there are exactly two things in this life you can't outrun." He holds up one finger. "A bullet with your name on it." A second finger joins the first. "And love when it finds you."
Love. It's not a term thrown around lightly in the MC world.
"It's not love," I protest automatically. "I barely know her."
Ghost just looks at me, that knowing gaze that's seen too much, survived too much to be fooled by simple denials. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, brother."
"We've known each other less than a day."
"Time's got nothing to do with it." He stubs out his cigarette on the reaper table, leaving a small burn mark that Reaper will definitely notice later. "Some people walk into your life and flip everything upside down in a heartbeat. No warning, no defense."
I think of Emma. Her fierce intelligence, her wounded defiance, the vulnerability she tries so hard to hide. The way something in my chest tightens when she smiles, rare as that is.
"Even if that were true," I start, "she's Reaper's daughter. She hates everything about this life. About what we do."
"And yet here she is." Ghost pushes off from the wall. "Look, I'm not saying pursue it. That's your call, and probably a death wish given who her father is. I'm just saying, be honest with yourself about what's happening."
"Which is what, exactly?"
"That you're falling for her, whether it makes sense or not." He claps a hand on my good shoulder. "And that complicates an already complicated situation."
He's right, and we both know it. Whatever this pull toward Emma is, it's a distraction I can't afford. Not tonight, not with so much at stake.
"I'll keep my head in the game," I promise. "Focus on the mission."
"Good." Ghost moves toward the door, then pauses. "For what it's worth, I've seen how she looks at you too. Like you're the first real thing she's seen in this place."
Before I can respond to that unsettling observation, he's gone, leaving me alone with thoughts I'd rather not have right now.
I take a moment to center myself, to push aside the confusion of emotions Ghost stirred up. Tonight isn't about me or my inconvenient feelings for Emma Kane. It's about keeping her and Evelyn safe if the mission fails. About being ready to move at a moment's notice.
I straighten my cut and exit the chapel, stepping back into the chaos of the clubhouse's main room.
The brothers are in final preparation mode now, checking weapons, securing extra magazines, donning tactical vests beneath their cuts.
This isn't a typical MC run. It's a military-style assault, and we're treating it as such.
Reaper stands at the center of it all, a calm presence amid the storm. He's speaking quietly to Evelyn, his forehead pressed against hers in an intimate gesture that feels too personal to witness. I look away, finding Emma instead.
She stands slightly apart from the activity, arms crossed as she watches her father. There's a conflict in her expression: resentment warring with worry, anger with fear. I approach slowly, giving her time to notice me.
"Everything okay?" she asks when I reach her side.
"Yeah." I don't mention my conversation with Ghost. "Just final instructions."
She nods, gaze still fixed on her father and Evelyn. "They really care about each other, don't they?"
The question seems more rhetorical than anything, but I answer anyway. "Yes. They do."
"It's strange," she says quietly. "Seeing him like that. Vulnerable."
"It's new for all of us," I admit. "Your father's always been... contained. Since Evelyn, he's different."
"Better different or worse different?"
"Just different." I consider how to explain it. "More human, maybe. Less the legend and more the man."
She absorbs this, her amber eyes thoughtful. "Is that why you're all so loyal to him? Because he's a legend?"
"Partly," I concede. "But it's more than that. I told you. He leads from the front. Takes the biggest risks himself. Protects what's his with everything he has."
"And that includes me? Even after all these years?"
"Especially you." I meet her gaze directly. "You're his blood, Emma. Nothing matters more to him than that."
Something flickers in her expression. A crack in the wall of resentment she's built around herself where her father is concerned. Before she can respond, Reaper calls for everyone's attention.
"Mount up in five," he announces, his voice carrying across the room without having to shout. "Prospects, you know your orders. Hold the compound, watch the perimeter. No one in or out without the password."
Two prospects nod solemnly, clearly understanding the gravity of their assignment. They're the last line of defense if everything goes wrong.
"Wilder," Reaper continues, turning to me. "You've got the most important job tonight."
I straighten, meeting his gaze. "I won't let you down."
"I know. If you don't hear from us by dawn, execute the contingency plan. Don't wait, don't hesitate. Just go."
Emma stiffens beside me. "And you?" she challenges. "What happens to you if something goes wrong?"
"Don't worry about me." His voice gentles in a way I've rarely heard. "I've survived worse odds."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got, Emma." He hesitates, then steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder.
The first time I've seen him touch her since she arrived.
"I know you hate this life. Hate what I am, what I've done.
But everything I've ever done has been to make a world where you could be safe. "
She doesn't pull away from his touch. "Even when you let me go? That was to keep me safe too?"
"Especially then." His hand drops back to his side. "The hardest thing I've ever done was watching you walk away. But I knew the farther you got from me, the safer you'd be."
"And now? You drag me back into danger and then walk out to possibly get yourself killed?" Her voice cracks slightly. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Trust Wilder," he says simply. "He'll protect you better than I could."
Her eyes flick to me, then back to her father.
"Don't die," she tells him, the words half command, half plea.
Reaper's mouth quirks in what might be a smile. "Not planning on it, kid."
With that, he turns to Evelyn, who steps into his embrace without hesitation. Their goodbye is wordless. A kiss, a shared look, a promise without sound. When they separate, Evelyn's eyes are bright with unshed tears, but her spine is straight, her chin lifted.
My brothers begin moving toward the door, a solemn procession of leather and steel. Ghost nods to me as he passes, a silent reminder of our earlier conversation. Blade clasps my shoulder, Ace and Viper offer fist bumps. Small gestures, heavy with meaning. We all know the risks of tonight's mission.
Reaper is the last to leave. At the door, he turns back, his ice-gray eyes finding mine across the room.
"Remember what I said," he calls. "Emma and Evelyn are your priority. Above everything."
I nod once. "Above everything," I repeat.
With that, he's gone.