He pictured her laughing, with that slight tilt of her head, her boots up on the table as if she owned the world, even when her hands trembled. Strong, stubborn, full of fire. She no longer needed anyone to save her.
She could grow up. Live a life outside of Royalla. Be safe.
He swallowed hard. But damn, he was going to miss her.
He was about to miss everything — the young Roma who fell asleep in his room, the maturing Roma who practiced flirting with him, and the idea of what might happen between them. The unspoken glances, the strange conversations, the fucking fantasies that made his life hell one minute and the biggest fucking pleasure he'd ever imagined the next.
Together, he and Roma built a broken family. Just the two of them, surviving in a hard world with some of the roughest men around them.
He hadn't asked to have her in his life, but once she came to him, everything had changed.
And now she was free to leave him.
Chapter 6
Roma watched Kodiak drink.
He sat at the bar in the clubhouse, shoulders hunched, nursing the same bottle of whiskey he'd started an hour ago when he arrived. She hadn't heard him come in, but heard his door close across the hallway, tempting her out of her room. She'd followed him, noticing his wet hair, still dripping from a shower.
The heavy set of his dark brows kept her from approaching him. That's when it hit her that the mood of the entire room was heavy. Everyone focused on the drink in their hand rather than the people in the clubhouse. She glanced at the door. They even closed the place to club hoppers.
Cruz asked Kodiak if there was anything else he needed to do, and all he'd done was shake his head and take another drink without uttering a word. Roma stayed close enough to hear but far enough away from him to give him space.
He wasn't acting normal.
He drank. Slow. Methodical. As if it were a job he hated but had to finish.
Roma stood in the entrance of the hallway, arms crossed, refusing to go back to her room. She hated this version of him. Not because he was drinking, not even because he was shutting her out—but because she didn't knowwhy.
When he'd left, he was going after a member of Deception Motorcycle Club that he believed killed her father. Her stomach gnawed. She needed to know that the killer paid for what he'd done.
Kodiak rubbed his hand over his face, took another drink, and then stared at the bottle. His black hair, sprinkled with white that was only seen up close, fell around his face,threatening to hide him from her. Unable to wait, she crossed the room.
He never looked up. Didn't even blink.
"Say something," she said. "You don't get to go quiet on me."
That was the same thing he'd tell her after her dad was killed. There were days when she never spoke, never cried, and never communicated with anyone. Kodiak had refused to let her shut down. He'd forced her to talk with him. Afterward, she always felt better and less alone.
Still, Kodiak refused to give her an answer.
He set the whiskey down and stood, unsteady but powerful. He walked past her like she wasn't even there. Not angry. Not cold. Just... hollow.
She pivoted, keeping him in sight.
He disappeared down the hallway toward his room.
Roma stood in the middle of the clubhouse, pulse ticking behind her eyes. She hated to cry. Hated the space Kodiak put between them. And hated that this wasn't the first time he'd made her feel like a storm was brewing around her, but she was given no warning. She had no idea if she was supposed to run out into the rain or seek shelter from the lightning.
She depended on Kodiak. Probably too much.
But tonight, the electricity in the air felt different. She'd gotten her hopes up that her nightmare would end with Kodiak finding the man responsible for killing her dad. But now she was more worried about Kodiak.
She waited, giving him half an hour, maybe more.
He never returned. The other bikers continued to drink, giving her no clue about what happened at the meeting, on the ride, or why everyone acted as if someone had died.
She scanned the room, taking note of who was present and who was absent. Baker was behind the counter, drinking as he supplied others with alcohol. Her stomach rolled, thinking aboutany of the men getting hurt, or worse. She'd known most of them her whole life.
