Page 7 of Marked By Myth

“This is Trig?”

I nodded.

“He’s legend back home,” he replied. “You look like him, that must be hard when running in his footsteps.”

“I never did,” I replied with ease. “I made the club my own. He’d be horrified if he knew the shit I’d done to some of his rules.”

Creed barked out a laugh. “Right. Where’s your ol’ lady? My Devil will want to talk with her, you know, greet the other ol’ lady and all the shit they do together.”

“She’s not here,” I replied, feeling my back stiffen at the mention of her. It was no secret I had one, but I didn’t like admitting she was still deep in my heart and no other could get close. “I don’t know if she’s coming today.”

Creed was silent for a moment. “How long’s it been?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Unlucky for some,” Creed remarked. “When we pick our ol’ lady, it’s for life. We all know that. If she’s still known as your ol’ lady, even to us overseas, then she’ll come back.”

“I don’t think she will, brother.” I tried to laugh it off. “She’s as stubborn as they come.”

Creed chuckled. “I know the type,” he said as he turned to face me. “What’s your play if she does come today?”

The thought occurred to me as I witnessed her booking a flight, but I hadn’t been brave enough to open that link again, to live in hope that she was coming back. I didn’t want to feel the burn of her rejecting me, even though I’d been the one to let her go.

“Her life is in London now. It’s a non-issue.”

“Still…if she does turn up…how’s that going to go down? I can see it in your eyes that you’re torn up over her, even fifteen years after the fact. A distracted President is a liability to his club.”

I knew that. Fuck didn’t I know that.

“Listen, we have an ally in the Nottingham chapter. Name’s Bully. He can help with your ol’ lady, if it ever comes to it. Had trouble with his own ol’ lady not too long ago, so I know he would understand.”

“Come on,” I said, changing the subject so I didn’t get lost in the what ifs of whether my woman would come home or not, and opened the door, leading Creed out into the clubhouse. “Have a drink, brother, and enjoy.”

I watched as Creed headed over to the bar, where his woman was seated. She had a large smile for him, and seemed to blend in with the others effortlessly.

“All good?”

Menace was at my side and I nodded, brushing off the ideas Creed had put in my head when it came to Rox.

I couldn’t afford to get distracted. We had a very real problem with the Bloody Scorpions, and a possible rat in my own club.

“Right, we’re out in ten, any non-members, get the fuck out and we’ll see you at the church,” our enforcer, Destroyer, hollered from the doors of the clubhouse. The only ones who remained were our officers. It was quiet as we waited for the others to get out of the compound, making way for us to ride with the hearse.

I made a move out to the row of bikes parked by the gates of the compound, my chest felt heavy with the day we were about to have. It was almost as if I had been putting all thoughts of Camo out of my mind, knowing I was going to feel it today, but there was no avoiding it now. Not when his black matte coffin was sitting in the windows of the hearse.

Not known for my emotions, the only people who could pull them out of me was my Rox, Camo and Fang. Rox, being the main one. I was feral for that woman, and had been since we met in high school. There’d never been anyone to come close.

That was the problem.

I climbed onto my Harley and waited for the others. Our mourning parade meant we didn’t need to wear our helmets today. I never liked wearing them and when I could, I’d ride out to the outskirts of the city so I could do just that. Ride uninhibited. Rox had always hated it too. She preferred to have her hair whip around us both in the wind, her hands skating over my abs while I rode hard and fast.

Fuck, just remembering that had made me hard.

Once the rest of the boys had climbed onto their Harleys, I revved my beast. Our road captain, Doom, gave the all-clear that we were ready, and I peeled out of the compound first. Fang on my left, Menace on my right, and the rest of them riding in formation behind me, with our tail gunner, Gears, at the back.

The wind was refreshing on my face as I rode through Sydney toward our destination. Our clubhouse was set up in Balmain, just outside of Sydney CBD, so we got all the action, but I had to admit, I liked riding along the coast, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Why my father had set up the Royal Bastards right dead centre in the city, I had no idea, but it kept our supply lines free from danger.

Until now.