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 take a long drink, letting the beer wash down the anger rising in my throat. The sun touches the horizon now, bleeding red across the sky. In the distance, I can see Savannah and June walking back, a basket of something between them.
"She's worth it," I say quietly. "Whatever comes."
"Maybe so." Havoc nods. "But is she worth Mercy losing her brother again? Is she worth forty-seven men losing their livelihood if the law comes down? Is she worth burning everything you built while you were inside?"
I don't answer because I don't trust what might come out of my mouth. The brand on my chest throbs with each heartbeat, a reminder of promises made and kept. Savannah's getting closer now, laughing at something June said, looking like she belongs here in this yard, in this life. With me.
"You're a good man, Legion," Havoc says, surprisin’ me. "Better than most who wear the patch. But good men make bad decisions when their hearts get involved. And bad decisions in our world—they don't just hurt you. They hurt everyone standing behind you."
As I watch Savannah approach, I feel something between love and terror creep up my spine. I've spent my whole life fighting—for respect, for survival, for her. But this might be the first time I've understood what I stand to lose.
"Just think about it," Havoc says, lifting the ribs from the grill. "That's all I'm asking."
Savannah reaches us, her smile bright but her eyes questioning as they move between Havoc and me. She can sense the tension, read it in the set of my shoulders.
"Everything okay?" she asks, her fingers finding mine, squeezing gently.
"Just man talk," Havoc answers before I can, his voice suddenly light. "Boring stuff about motorcycle parts."
I force a smile, but my mind is racing through every possibility, every threat, every choice that led us here. Eight votes against. A sister with an Ashby baby. A woman wearing my mark while her family plots revenge.
"Dinner's ready," June announces, clapping her hands to summon the children.
As everyone moves toward the table, Savannah holds me back, her eyes searchin’ mine.
"What's wrong?" she whispers.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, memorizing the feel of her skin. "Nothing," I lie. "Everything's perfect."
But Havoc's words echo in my head like a warning bell.
Next time will be the time it counts.
We sit around the wooden tables under the pavilion that acts like an outdoor kitchen while the sky bleeds out, red-gold light washing across the yard.
Dinner's served family-style—platters of ribs, corn on the cob, biscuits, and coleslaw passed from hand to hand. The Dun kids' faces glow in the setting sun, all six of them jostling for position and talking over each other.
"Dad, I landed the double jump today," the oldest boy says, barbecue sauce smeared across his chin.
"Did you check your suspension after?" Havoc asks, not missing a beat.
"Yes, sir. Just like you showed me."
The second boy pipes up. "I'm gonna try it tomorrow."
"Not until I check your bike first," Havoc says, pointing a rib bone at him. "You bend that frame again, and you're walking till Christmas."
I watch them, these outlaw children with their normal lives. The contradiction doesn't escape me. They pass bowls and argue about whose turn it is to feed the dog.
"Misty's gonna foal any day now," the oldest girl tells Savannah, eyes bright with excitement. "Dad says I can help this time."
"That's amazing," Savannah says, and I can hear the genuine interest in her voice. "What breed?"
"Quarter horse. We're breeding for barrels." The girl beams with pride. "I'm taking Starlight to the fair next weekend for the 4-H competition."
"Your first show?" Savannah asks.
"Third," the girl corrects. "But first time in the advanced division."
June serves seconds before anyone asks, fillin’ plates that never quite empty. She moves with the efficiency of someone who's fed an army, which I suppose she has.
"Speaking of the fair," June says, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "it's next weekend. All the kids have projects. Ethan's showing his woodwork, Leila's got her photography, and of course, the horses." She looks at Savannah, then me. "You two should come with us. Make a day of it."
Savannah turns to me, a question in her eyes. I shrug, knowin’ damn well that Savannah Ashby, who's spent her life in curated Instagram moments, would probably love a real county fair with its dirt, and sugar, and chaos.
"Sure," I say. "Sounds good."
Savannah's smile is worth whatever bullshit I'll have to endure. One of the Dun twins pipes up from the end of the table. "Do you really have demons inside you?" he asks me, eyes wide. "Cuz Dusty at the gate says you do."
"Michael!" June scolds, but I wave it off.
"Just the one," I tell the kid, keeping my face serious. "Keeps me warm in the winter."
The boy considers this, nodding like it makes perfect sense, and goes back to his corn. Across the table, Havoc's eyes meet mine—a silent warning that this is exactly the kind of talk that spreads.