Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I look out at the setting sun—it's really low now. Maybe half an hour, it'll be gone and then there will be nothing but these fairy lights above our heads. A fantasy.
I look back at Havoc. "So? I mean, what am I supposed to do with that information?"
"I dunno," he admits, flipping a rack of ribs with practiced precision. "I'm just reminding you, it don't happen this way. There's gonna be a fight, Legion. And it's gonna be ugly. If you love this woman, you better be prepared to fight for her like your life depends on it. And if you're not willing to blow up every fuckin' bridge you ever crossed to keep her, well..." He gives me a sad look now. "Maybe you should cut your losses."
The scoff comes out automatically. But before I can launch into a rebuttal, the screen door creaks open. June and Savannah emerge carrying steaming dishes, both smiling about somethin’ I missed.
The sight of Savannah in that dress, her hair catching gold in the setting sun, makes my chest ache where the brand sits raw against my skin.
"Hope you boys are hungry," June calls out. "Savannah's quite the cook."
Savannah catches my eye, a silent laugh passing between us. She can barely boil water. We both know it.
The women set down their offerings—corn bread, beans, some kind of potato salad—then disappear back toward the garden, voices trailing behind them like ribbons. Something about tomatoes.
I watch Savannah's hips sway as she walks away, the dress moving against her like a second skin. When I turn back, Havoc's watching me with the patient stare of a man who's seen this story before.
"That woman's got you wrapped around her finger so tight you're turnin' blue, brother." He takes a long pull from his beer. "And that's your business. But when it bleeds into club business? It becomes my business."
"I've never given the club a reason to doubt me." The words come out sharp, defensive. "Three years, Havoc. Three years in Whitefall and I never said a word. Not one fucking word."
"I know." He nods, respecting the sacrifice. "That's why you got your patch. That's why you got your brand. But loyalty ain't a one-time payment, Legion. It's a subscription service."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "So what? I'm supposed to pick? The club or her?"
"I'm not saying that." Havoc turns the ribs again, his movements controlled. Nothing wasted. "I'm saying you need to figure out how to balance them both. Because right now? You're failing."
"Fuck you."
"That vote was the first split we've had in years." Havoc doesn't even flinch at my anger. "Eight men voted against you. Eight brothers who bled with you, who would have died for you yesterday, decided your judgment was compromised. You know how rare that is?"
I do. And it burns worse than the brand on my chest.
"Votes are never unanimous," I counter, but my voice lacks conviction.
"Not on business decisions, no. But on family matters? They usually are." Havoc points the tongs at me. "And this was about a woman. An Ashby woman. With connections to every powerful family in three counties. With a fiancé who's the son of a goddamn state senator."
I look away, across the yard where Havoc's kids are playing some complicated game involving sticks and shouting. Normal life. Somethin’ I've never had.
"And then," Havoc continues, lowering his voice, "your sister shows up with Colt fucking Ashby and a baby. At our gates. After we voted to protect Savannah. What the fuck was that?"
The question hangs between us like smoke. I wish I had an answer that made sense.
"I dunno," I finally admit. "I don't know what that was."
"Well, you better figure it out. Fast." Havoc's voice drops even lower, almost a growl. "Because this is drama, Legion. And the more it follows you across the Badlands gate, the more men will vote against you next time."
"Next time?"
“There's always a next time." Havoc looks at me with something like pity. "And next time will be the time it counts."
The words land like body blows. I know he's right. The club operates on a balance—loyalty to the patch versus loyalty to the man. Right now, I'm tipping the scales in a dangerous direction.
"So what would you do?" I ask, hating how the question tastes.
Havoc sighs, looking suddenly older than his years. "I'd remember that the club was there before her, and it'll be there after. I'd remember that forty-seven men are watching how you handle this. And I'd find a way to make peace with the Ashbys before they bring the kind of heat that burns us all."
"Make peace?" I laugh bitterly. "After what they did to her?"
"Not saying forgive. I'm saying neutralize." Havoc glances toward the garden where the women's voices float back to us. "Find leverage. Find dirt. Find something that makes them back the fuck off for good. Because right now, all you've done is piss them off."