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Riptide took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m in love,” he asserted, the words filling the club. “With Brat. And I’m done keeping it a secret.”
The room fell silent at his admission. Rage’s eyes widened slightly, not with surprise, but with the recognition of the truth finally spoken aloud.
“I plan to tell my club,” Riptide continued, his voice steady but carrying an edge of uncertainty. “I’ve been acting like it’s not my brother’s business, but there’s growing unrest. I don’t know what will happen after this, but I can’t keep pretending anymore.”
“I wondered how long you two could keep this under wraps,” Rage said, a hint of a rueful smile crossing her lips. “You know the kind of backlash this could cause.”
“I know, but I’m ready to face whatever comes. I care about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I can’t keep hiding that, not from my club, not from myself.” He was speaking to Rage but staring at me.
Tingling all over, I stepped forward, bolstered by Riptide’s courage, standing beside him. “I feel the same,” I added, my voice strong despite the fear inside. “I knew the risks, but I’m not afraid to stand with Riptide, now, to face this together. Whatever my punishment is. Rage, I’m sorry I’ve kept this from you.”
Rage studied us for a long moment. Then her eyes held a spark of strategic calculation as she absorbed the weight of our confession. “I’ve known for a while, Brat. I’m not blind,” she admitted, her voice carrying a note of respect and an undercurrent of authority. “And honestly, I think this might be the perfect time for something I’ve been considering for a while.”
Riptide and I made eye contact, the unspoken question clear as day.
Rage continued, her gaze shifting from him to me, linking us together in her next words. “It’s time for an official truce between the Hell on Heelz and the Seville Slayers,” she declared. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for too long, over old grudges and miscommunications. But now, we have a common enemy, one that threatens both our clubs.”
Her proposal, bold and unexpected, offered a path forward that I hadn’t dared to hope for. Riptide’s posture relaxed slightly, the idea seemingly taking root in his mind as well.
“A truce,” he repeated, weighing the word, his eyes narrowing in thought. “It makes sense, especially with everything that’s been going on. This threat, whoever is behind Cowgirl’s actions and Viper’s murder… It’s bigger than any feud between our clubs.”
Her expression firm, Rage nodded, “Exactly. We’re stronger together, and this,” she gestured between Riptide and me. “Could be the foundation we need to build a new alliance, one based on mutual respect and a shared goal. If you have new respect for us, Heelz, Riptide?”
Flattening his lips, he hung his head. “I do,” he said. Riptide spoke to Rage, “But the Asphalt Gods MC control your club, now. They’ll never agree to a truce with the Slayers after how we got out from under them.”
“That’s my only worry.” Rage crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on me. “I know someone who has it in with the big guy who could easily change all that.”
The notion of our relationship serving as a bridge between our clubs, as the catalyst for a historic truce, was both daunting and exhilarating. The potential for unity, for ending the senseless conflicts and facing our true adversaries together, was a vision that suddenly seemed within reach. But it meant I would probably have to do something I didn’t want to do. Ask my dad.
“I’m willing to discuss it with my club,” Riptide said after a moment, his voice carrying a new determination. “It won’t be easy, but if we present a united front, show my boys the benefits of standing together against a common enemy, they might see the sense in it.”
I looked at him, pride and love swelling in my chest. “And I’ll stand with you,” I affirmed, turning to Rage. “I’ll talk to my dad if I have to. Make him see that this is the way forward, not just for our clubs, but for all of us.”
Rage’s nod was slow but decisive. “Then let’s make it happen,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “It’s time to change the narrative, to turn this crisis into an opportunity. Together, we’ll face whatever comes and show everyone that our clubs can rise above the past, united for a better future.”
In that moment, a new chapter for the Hell on Heelz and the Slayers began to unfold, one marked by unity and a shared fight against a lurking threat. The path could be fraught with challenges, but with Riptide by my side and the prospect of a lasting peace between our clubs, a surge of hope and determination.
We were on the brink of something monumental, a change that could redefine our lives and the legacy of our clubs forever. And, of course, it meant I would be able to be with the biker out in the open.
Chapter 17
Riptide
In the shadowed heart of the Lair, our hallowed ground for club meetings, I took my spot up front, facing my Slayers’ crew. The walls, plastered with our club’s lore and triumphs, felt like they were bearing down on me as I geared up to lay bare the secret I’d been hauling around for too long. Standing there in church, our sacred meet up, I faced the brothers I’d battled and bled with, ready to spill the hard truth.
“Got something heavy on my chest,” I started, voice steady, locking eyes with each of the guys. “I’m rolling with Brat, planning to make her my old lady.”
The room erupted, a storm of voices and shocked faces. Some of the brothers let loose, calling me out for hiding a bombshell, accusing me of crossing lines.
Bull was on his feet in a flash, big and menacing, his face twisted in anger. “You’re saying you’ve been tight with a Heelz chick? And now you wanna bring her into our fold? That’s a damn betrayal, man.”
“You’re at the helm, Riptide,” shouted another brother, anger in his voice. “How we supposed to follow you if you’ve been hiding this shit? Hooking up with one of them Heelz women. What’s the endgame here? Marrying one of those biker bitch whores. How’s that supposed to work?”
I rubbed at my forehead, fighting to keep my cool against his harsh words.
Before I could get a word in, Boiler was on me, his tone heavy with blame. “You’ve been sneaking around, prez. That ain’t our way. You’ve dragged us into the mud with this.”
I threw up a hand, cutting through the noise. “Look, I get how it looks, but there’s bigger shit going down. We’re talking about making peace with the Hell on Heelz. And that truce? It could mean easing up on things with the Asphalt Gods, too.”
