Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
I’m not sure when the tears start, but they don’t stop. He pulls me into his chest and lets me cry. I don’t have to hide anymore.
When I pull back, I search his face. “You serious?”
“Dead.”
I laugh, watery and raw. “Then what now?”
He grins. “We live. We heal. We figure out what the hell comes next.”
And for the first time in forever, I think I’m ready for that.
Ready for real life, love, and a future that belongs to both of us.
FOURTEEN
DREW
Brazen enough to believe in it
Axel’s leaning against the bar, arms crossed, eyes like razors as I walk across the floor of the clubhouse. He’s got a bottle in his hand, swinging it low by his thigh, half-empty. The club’s quiet now—too damn quiet for my liking.
Frankie’s gone.
Cambria’s safe.
Salentino’s at war with Javier Almanza across the border, his empire crumbling day by day if the word on the street is right. We’ve had a handful of close calls, but the Hellions are holding strong. The club’s as solid as it’s ever been.
But this—this silence with my brother—feels like something’s coiled tight in the air, ready to strike. It’s a tension I know better than to ignore. The last time Axel looked at me this way, I was seventeen, and he was about to teach me what it meant to be a Hellion. Back then, I was angry and wild and burning for a fight. Now? I know better. Or at least, I hope I do.
Axel jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Prez’s office.”
I nod, no questions. I follow him, boots echoing in the long hallway, every step heavier than the last. The door creaks when I push it open, the old hinges whining in protest. Axel shuts it behind us with a click so solid it might as well be a gun cocking.
He doesn’t talk right away. Just paces in a slow, tight circle before stopping and resting against the edge of the desk, arms still crossed, eyes pinning me in place. There’s something brewing behind them, a storm, maybe. Or just the weight of years we haven’t talked about.
“You did right,” he says finally, voice low.
I blink. “Sorry?”
He huffs, a laugh with no humor. “You heard me.”
I lean back against the wall, arms crossed. “Just makin’ sure.”
He shakes his head. “You brought the situation with Cambria to the club. Didn’t act reckless, didn’t go off half-cocked like you used to. You could’ve tried to handle it on your own, but you didn’t. That’s what a man does, take it to his brothers. That’s what a brother does, leans in on the club.”
I shrug, looking down at the floor. “I couldn’t risk her safety. I ain’t losin’ her.”
He nods, the motion slow and thoughtful. “That’s the point. You knew this wasn’t a fight you win with just your fists. You brought it to the table. Like a man. Like a brother I’d want watchin’ my back.”
Those words hit me harder than a fist. Axel’s never been the type to hand out praise, especially not to me. Most of my life I’ve been in his shadow, Shooter’s son, Axel’s kid brother. Never quite enough. Always trying to prove I belong.
“Means a lot, man,” I express, my voice rougher than I want.
He pushes off the desk, stepping closer. “It should. Took you long enough to stop runnin’ from your damn legacy and start ownin’ it.”
I meet his eyes. “I didn’t wanna ride on Dad’s name. Or yours.”
“You didn’t.” He pauses, and I watch him struggle to find the words. “You got something special, Little Foot. A fire. Stronger than any of us. Just hadn’t learned to contain it when necessary. But you’ve matured. You control the fire. You’re carvin’ your own road now.”
And damn if that doesn’t settle something in my chest I didn’t even know was loose. I stand there, soaking in the truth of it, the relief of finally being seen for who I am, not who I’m supposed to be.
I nod once. “Thanks, Axel.”
He claps my shoulder—a gesture that means more than it should. “Don’t fuck it up now.”
I grin. “I’ll try not to.”
We step out of the office, and the noise of the club rushes back in. Laughter, music, the clink of glasses. It’s a good sound.
One I never want to lose.
Out behind the compound, Cambria’s barefoot in the grass, laughing with Yesnia and Laura. She’s got her head thrown back, that sharp, wild laugh of hers cutting across the yard like a song. She’s holding a lemonade bottle, rarely beer, even though no one cares she’s underage. She’s waving her hands in the air, animated as hell, telling some story that has both women in stitches.
She spots me over Laura’s shoulder and waves, breaking away from the girls with a grin. She jogs across the yard, her feet leaving damp prints on the grass.