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“Understood.”
I shake my head, dropping my hands onto my hips as I try to make sense of this. “I got in a few fights, pissed a few people off, and I got exiled to another location. He stokes this war, killing countless people, tries to kill my girl, completely ignores his fucking kid, and he gets to come back like nothing happened? How the fuck is that fair?”
“He ain’t coming back like nothing happened,” Howler says. “He’s lost his seat at the table. His position as road captain, too. The only way he gets to stay is if he accepts being bumped back down to prospect status. He’s gonna have to earn his place back in this club.”
That helps a little, but it doesn’t change the history. “You keep him away from my old lady,” I say, liking how that sounds.
Because she is mine, and the lengths I will go to keep her safe scare me. There are no lines I won’t cross, there is nowhere on earth I won’t go to find her if she’s taken from me again, and while the anger inside me has been lessened by her presence, all it would take is something happening to her to obliterate any progress I’ve made.
“The way you feel about Skye is how he felt about Mara. Ain’t excusing his behaviour but also ain’t saying I wouldn’t do the same if I was in his shoes. Hearing you talk, ain’t sure you wouldn’t either.”
That assessment is enough to shut me up. Because as much as I fucking hate that prick, I also know in his situation, I would’ve lost my mind as well.
“Just keep him away from me.”
I leave the room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind me. No matter the circumstances, I won’t disrespect my president like that. When I get back into the common room, I instantly scan through the crowd for Skye.
She’s sitting at a table with Hawk, as if he’s watching over her, and I’m grateful for that.
As I approach, Hawk lifts his eyes to me, and I see the question in them.
Is everything okay?
I give him a slight nod before taking the chair next to Skye. She’s making her way through a piece of toast with sliced tomatoes and what looks like sugar or salt.
Hawk stands, clamping a hand on my shoulder before he walks away, leaving me with Skye.
“You okay?” Skye sounds worried.
I give her a tight nod, not sure that’s the word I would use to describe how I feel right now. “What are you eating?”
“Probably best you don’t know.” She smiles, but it quickly fades. “So, he’s coming back?”
I blow out a breath, hating how tense she is about this. “You don’t have to worry. He won’t lay a finger on you again. Not now that I’ve officially claimed you.”
Her eyes lift to meet mine. “You’ve claimed me?”
I wrap a hand around her nape, drawing her head forwards so our mouths are inches from each other. “I claimed you the moment you walked into that fucking bar. You’ve always been mine. I don’t need to put a patch on your back to know that, but it legitimises you in the eyes of the club. There are serious repercussions for touching an old lady. It will offer some protection.”
Her mouth curves into a small smile. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”
She kisses me, and I didn’t realise until this second how much I needed to feel close to her. I slide my tongue through the seam of her mouth, the taste of tomato mixing with—
I pull back, unable to stop from spluttering as my tastebuds are infused. “You put salt on your toast?”
She winces. “Don’t look at me like that. This is partly your fault. Your baby, for some reason, needs salt and tomatoes.” She shoves me away, picking her toast back up and taking a sassy bite.
“Babe, that’s fucking disgusting. How are you eating that?”
“It tastes fine to me.”
I take the toast from her, placing it back on the plate and ignoring the salt covering her tongue, then I kiss her like she’s the air I need in my lungs to breathe.
EPILOGUE
TRICK
There’s a ticking noise in my head, a clock endlessly counting down the seconds that have passed since I lost my wife. Time is supposed to make grief lessen, to heal all wounds, but it has only deepened the pain inside me.
