“Yep.” Stella nodded. “That’s what he said.”
“That makes no sense. Generally, Dig does whatever you say. No questions asked. Why is he dragging his feet on this?”
Stella slowly turned her head and looked at me, her eyes boring into mine, silently conveying what I already knew.
It was raining when Digger carried Stella into the clubhouse one night. Her face was black and blue. Mom ran over to them, barking orders as my dad walked out of his office. He took one look at Stella and knew what had happened.
Without a word, he strode over to her, his face a mask of controlled fury.
Stella’s eyes were wide with fear and pain, as she clung to Digger like her life depended on it. The storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest brewing within our four walls. Dad’s nostrils flared while he tried to keep his composure as several club brothers got to their feet, checking weapons, waiting for the word.
It was clear someone was going to pay dearly for what had been done to Stella.
Mom, ever the healer, was already tending to Stella’s wounds, her hands gentle but efficient. She spoke soothingly, trying to calm the girl who had become more family than friend. Her voice, usually so strong and commanding, was now a soft murmur of reassurance and love.
Digger stood by, his shoulders hunched and fists clenched. He was a gentle giant, known for his strength and loyalty, but tonight his eyes were filled with a protective rage. We all knew that Digger secretly loved Stella. Digger grew up in the clubhouse, surrounded by love and family. He never had to live in fear like Stella, but seeing her now, I knew Digger was ready to unleash his fury on whoever dared to lay a hand on her.
Dad finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Who did this to you, Stella?” His eyes locked onto her, willing her to speak, to give him the name of the person who had caused her so much pain.
Stella hesitated, her gaze flickering between Dad and Digger, before finally settling on Mom. She whispered, her voice trembling, “He found out that Digger gave me a ride home yesterday and... he lost it.”
Dad’s face darkened, and he nodded once, sharply.
“That’s all I needed to know,” he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Roxy, I’ll be back later.”
Mom didn’t ask. She knew where Dad was going. We all did. Dig gently held Stella in his arms as he watched my dad walk out of the clubhouse.
As Mom continued to care for Stella, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. “We’ll make sure he never hurts you again,” she promised, her voice firm. “You’re safe here, with us.”
And she had been because the club ensured it.
“Oh,” I whispered as the realization dawned on me.
“Yeah.” Stella sighed. “There you have it. I’m destined to be a barren woman with empty arms.”
Rolling my eyes at her dramatics, I groaned, “Say the word, Stella, and I will take care of it.”
“No.” She vehemently shook her head. “You’ve got enough on your plate already. Not bogging you down with my shit, too. The problem is technically taken care of, even if it’s not what Digger wanted. I just have to wait for the fucker to die. He can’t live forever. Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and a prisoner will shank the fucker for breathing too heavily.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dante
“He doesn’t remember me.” The words stung, and I knew Torment heard the pain in my voice.
“You knew this would not be easy, Intern. Head trauma takes time. Recovery is a process and we must be patient.”
I wanted to scream at him. I didn’t have time for patience. My hands balled into fists as I paced the office, my anxiety building.
“I don’t have time!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help it. The situation was dire, and I had no one else to turn to. “You don’t understand,” I croaked. “Sypher needs to remember. It’s crucial that he gets his memories back, and soon.”
Torment, ever the calm presence, tried to reassure me. “Then help me understand, Intern. We all want the same thing here. Sypher is one of us, and we will do everything we can to help him recover.”
I took a deep breath, knowing I had to trust someone. “Can I tell you something, Torment? Something in strict confidence?”
“Of course,” Torment replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “What is said in this room stays between us. I’m bound by patient confidentiality.”
I hesitated, knowing that what I was about to reveal could have far-reaching consequences. “What about the club?” I asked, my voice laced with worry. “Doesn’t the club have a say in this?”
