“Blood doesn’t make you family, loyalty does.”
Chapter 3
Sly
The cracked leather of the chair I sit on groans as I lean back, shifting the laptop that rests on my legs.
Gunshots ring out from the speaker system of the television blaring in the living room of the Sinners Warlord’s clubhouse. Nixon and a few other members are watching an action movie together, tossing back dark amber bottles of beer as they do.
My attention span cannot accommodate the length of a movie, and my fingers twitch to do something other than lay idle.
Grabbing the computer was a mistake.
I’m not sure why I torture myself like I do, but the melancholy strain of my heart is becoming unbearable the longer I stare at it.
Another few weeks have passed, and time has only proven to hurt more.
Vincenza smiles back at me from the screen, her hair and makeup done up perfectly in a photoshopped portrait that makes her look unnatural, diminishing her true beauty in an effort to portray her as perfection.
An attempt wasted since her natural beautyisperfection.
I can’t bring myself to read more than the first couple of sentences of the article that highlights her early days as a bride-to-be. The fury of what could have been versus what happened ignites a powerful rage inside that I force down, shifting again in my seat before I slam the laptop closed.
Nixon’s gaze flies toward me at the sudden thump, his eyebrow quirking in question. Ignoring him, I turn my eyes toward the television and pretend to be engrossed in the show, all while a storm brews inside me.
The man on the screen takes down the vile-looking character with a single shot to the head.
Thoughts race through my mind faster than I can comprehend as I mutely stare at the screen. Silent questions and festering notions of how I could have been so delusional to think she’d actually fallen for me, too.
I believe what hurts the most is how wholly I gave my heart to her. How reluctant I had been because of who she was, but when I finally relented, I did so with every ounce of my being.
And if she asked, I would welcome her back with open arms.
Foolishly, but undeniably.
Because the love I feel for her is once in a lifetime, and I know my heart will never fully heal.
“Oh, shit,” King, the club's second-in-command, grumbles from the couch. My gaze flicks in his direction, and I see him staring down at his phone, the screen's illumination contrasting against the darkness of the room.
“What is it?” Nixon asks. Pressing pause on the remote, he leans forward against his knees, his head hanging low as he looks at King.
“Cain’s calling Church. Seems as though the sale just went through.”
“The sale of what?” an older biker by the name of Waltquestions, taking a pull from his beer.
King's eyes cut to Walt, narrowing with annoyance. “Of the bar, dumbass. Now get up. Cain won’t like to be kept waiting.”
Standing, I let the laptop tumble to the floor without concern of it breaking—let it. Perhaps then I’ll stop torturing myself with web searches that lead to nothing but a downward spiral.
“Hey,” Nixon whines since the laptop is actually his, but I wave him off and leave the living room area, making my way to the large boardroom-style space where Church is held.
At the head of the table, Cain sits settled back in the large leather rolling chair with a file sitting in front of him. His eyes meet mine as I take the seat near him and nod in greeting.
The rest of the men file into the room, finding aplace around the rectangular mahogany table. Sounds of chair legs scuffing against the floor echo against the walls, and I rub my temples as I wait for the last man to join us.
Once he’s settled, Cain clears his throat, signaling he’s about to speak.
“You all know Andromeda has been up for sale for a couple of months now. I just received an update that the deal is done and the new owner has closed. They’re getting the keys in the morning. Now, there is a clause written into the sale of the building that we have a five-year rent agreement that we’re hardly a year into. There should be no issues of us staying above the bar, but until I meet this new owner myself, anything could happen.”
