Page 35 of Property of Booker

I watch Carolina carefully lower herself onto a chair, her hand resting instinctively on her belly. “Is she scared?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

Jersey’s gaze is penetrating as she observes the girl. “She’s terrified. But she’s here. She’s safe. And with Slayer watching their backs, she’s got a fighting chance. We’re going to make damn sure this baby gets a start that’s miles better than what the parents had.”

I nod, the reality of the situation sinking in. It’s one more life, one more small soul in our care. “Does she need anything? Extra food, help with the nursery?”

Jersey lets out a short, humorless laugh. “She needs space to breathe, and she needs to know she isn't in that shithouse anymore. Slayer’s already got the crib set up, and he’s hovering like a hawk. The girl has everything she needs, she just doesn't know it yet.”

I look back at Carolina, who is now watching Kolter draw with a soft, distant look. She’s part of the fabric now, another thread in the messy, complicated tapestry of this life we’re building. Seeing her here, surrounded by people who finally give a damn, makes the knot in my stomach loosen just a little more. We are creating a sanctuary, and for the first time, I feel like we’re the ones strong enough to hold the walls up.

Jersey nods, her expression remaining fixed on the duo with a contemplative look. “This place is buzzing with fresh starts, Kendall. It goes way beyond just getting kids settled into their lessons. Did Booker happen to mention the celebration party we threw recently?”

“He didn’t,” I answer, shaking my head. “But between getting Kolter adjusted to his new reality and just trying to keep from drowning in my own thoughts, my focus has been elsewhere. Booker’s shared plenty of stories about the club and the wild stunts you guys pull to try and put me at ease around all these new faces, but he never mentioned a word about that.”

“It was for Carolina,” Jersey explains, a genuine warmth coloring her voice. “We wanted to do something special. A gender reveal party. The whole club showed up, even the ones who act like they're too tough for that kind of stuff. They were acting like nervous schoolboys.”

I smile, imagining the scene, the rough bikers huddled around trying to be gentle. “I wish I'd been there. I bet that was quite the sight. I can only imagine Slayer standing there, looking like he's expecting a bomb to go off.”

Jersey lets out a soft, genuine laugh. “You're spot on. It was. We didn't do the big flashy smoke or the cannons. We kept it simple. We had a table set up with a box in the middle. Everyone was buzzing with guesses, placing bets, shouting out their theories. Slayer looked like he was about to pass out from nerves, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.”

I can see him, hovering over that box like it holds the secrets of the universe. “So what was inside?”

“Baby shoes,” Jersey says, her eyes brightening with the memory. “We told them the first pair revealed the secret. Carolina opened the lid, and the room went dead silent. She pulled out a tiny pair of pink ballet slippers. Everyone just stood there for a heartbeat, and then the place erupted in cheers.”

“A girl,” I whisper, the word feeling heavy and precious on my tongue. “A little girl. That’s incredible.”

Jersey nods, her gaze drifting back to the woman sitting quietly in the corner. “Yeah. A girl. The guys started joking about how they're all doomed, how she's going to wrap every single one of them around her finger before she's even a week old. Even the grizzled old-timers were smiling, looking soft for once. It's the kind of hope you can't buy, Kendall. It's the real stuff.”

I look toward the corner where Carolina sits. She's watching the kids with that same distant, peaceful look I've noticed before. Knowing there's a girl on the way, another life protected within these walls, it changes things. It makes the sanctuary feel even more real, more permanent.

“I'm glad,” I tell Jersey, finding my voice again. “After everything, after all the darkness, a baby girl... it feels like a sign. Like we’re finally moving past the wrongdoings done to us and seeing the light at the end of a tunnel.”

“It’s a sign,” Jersey agrees, her tone turning firm. “It's a promise. We're keeping that promise every day we make sure this place is safe. Every day we make sure our children can just be kids, or we can just be moms, or teachers, just be people who aren't looking over their shoulders every five seconds.”

I think about the shoes, the tiny pink slippers. It's such a simple, delicate thing. It's so far removed from the weapons and the bikes and the fear. It reminds me that we aren't just surviving. We're planting seeds. We're making space for beauty where there used to only be grit.

“I want to help,” I say, and I mean it. “With the nursery, or whatever she needs. I want to be part of that. I’ve spent so long being afraid, and now I want to do something that’s about welcoming life, not just protecting it.”

Jersey looks at me, and there's no doubt in her eyes. “She'll appreciate that. She needs women around her who understand. Not just the bikers who want to protect her, but women who know what it's like to have to find your own strength in the middle of a disaster.”

“I know that life,” I say, my voice firm. “I'm ready to use what I've learned. Not to fight a war, but to build a home. I think that's what I've been waiting for all along, even when I didn't know it.”

The room feels fuller now. The air doesn't just hold the quiet—it holds the potential of all these lives. Kolter's school days, Carolina's baby, the quiet moments of safety we're stitching together. I don't feel the need to scan for threats anymore. I just want to be here, to be part of this. To watch the girl grow, to watch Kolter learn, to watch us finally become the people we were meant to be.

Jersey touches my arm, a quick, grounding motion. “We're doing it, Kendall. One day at a time. It’s not going to be perfect, and it won’t happen overnight, but we’re doing it.”

I look at her, really look at her. She's not just the guard anymore. She's a part of this, a guardian of the hope we're cultivating. I feel a knot loosen in my chest, a final lingering piece of the fear that's been gripping me for years. It's okay to hope. It's okay to plan for a future that isn't measured in battles.

“One day at a time,” I echo. “And today, it's a good day.”

We stand there for a while longer, watching Kolter as he draws, watching the woman with the baby in her womb, watching the world inside these walls bloom. It's not perfect. It's messy and complicated and we've all got scars that won't ever truly vanish. But it's ours. And standing here, I realize that for the first time in a long time, it's enough. It’s something that will eventually bloom and grow, and I can’t wait to fertilize it and pray I have a green thumb.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Booker

I recognized the vibration of those motors as the revving hits the soles of my boots long before the brothers ever clear the driveway. It’s a low, throaty thrum, missing that frantic, high-pitched scream of riders coming in hot. This is the mourning pulse of men coming back from burying a brother who was like a mentor to them. Rip, Icer, and Indiana coast into the gravel, their dark shapes slicing through the dying light as the sun sets. They just finished laying Pokey to rest, and that weary slump in their shoulders tells the whole damn story. Burying one of your brothers carries a lot of excess baggage. It doesn't just wear out the body—it gnaws right through the marrow of your bones.