“Trust,” I repeat, locking eyes with him.
He nods, but I can tell he’s not convinced. Dad goes back the way he came, and I stride out of the kitchen, my heart hammering against my chest. I’m searching for Lucy and find her standing with Justice. She’s listening to him speak out near the bonfire.
They turn to me as I approach.
Justice’s jaw is set, a muscle ticking there as he speaks, “Reaper gave his word they’d be okay, but we can’t risk them talking. Not after what they saw.”
“Damn Crimson Wheelers,” Lucy mutters, her voice low and dangerous.
“Exactly. They’ve seen too much. We need to be sure they won’t go running to the cops.”
“You’re talking about the women? Dad just said one of them, she’s only fifteen, has been raped and beaten.”
Once upon a time, I was out there, camera in hand, capturing life at its rawest. Now, here I am, caught up in the gritty reality of the Royal Bastards, where loyalty runs deeper than blood.
I glance back at the clubhouse, its walls holding secrets and safety—my new home. There’s no way they would harm thosewomen.
But what’s the next move?
A shiver runs through me, not from fear but from the unknown.
What will we do with them?
How do we prove to the women that we’re not the monsters they think we are?
“Lyric,” Lucy calls out, pulling me back to the moment. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
Justice nods, and I do, too, but I can’t help but think those women have no reason to trust us. We’ve kidnapped them from one MC to another. How do I get them to keep the Royal Bastards’ secrets? Can they ever leave the MC?
Lucy grabs my hand, and we weave through the crowded clubhouse, our steps quick and purposeful. Dad is in the infirmary, his face drawn with concern, his doctor’s hands steady as they tend to the wounded. The air is thick with antiseptic and fear.
“Dad, can we help?”
His gaze flickers over to Jet, who stands like a bruised sentinel at the edge of the room. Her defiance is tangible, a shield she wields fiercely.
“I could use some bottled water and food for these women.” He looks up at the ceiling, then back at us. “They could use showers and clean clothes.”
Justice steps into the threshold, his frame filling the doorway. “Anything I can do?”
“Get out!” Jet’s voice spits, her distrust a palpable force pushing against Justice’s solid presence.
He raises his hands in a gesture of peace and backs away.
“Let’s find Highway,” I mutter to Lucy, and she nods, understanding.
The kitchen is empty, save for the hum of the refrigerator.I gather up bread, cold cuts, and a knife. My hands move automatically, assembling a sandwich with practiced ease. Food always tastes better after chaos. I learned that in Afghanistan.
“Highway?” I call out softly, stepping into the dim hallway that leads to our room.
A shadow moves, and then he’s there, his presence calming the storm inside me.
“Hey, Lyric,” he greets, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar half-smile.
“Made you something to eat,” I say, leading him back to our sanctuary.
Once inside, I hand him the plate and sit close, needing the warmth of his body, the certainty of his strength.
“Talk to me. What happened at the Crimson Wheelers’ compound?”
