Page 18 of Pope’s Purgatory

“Forgive me,” I whisper into the wind, ignoring the lone tear that falls down my face.

I woke up thismorning a dead man.

At least, that’s the way it feels. I’m empty. There’s nothing left alive inside me.

Today is the day I send both our souls to purgatory.

Not wanting to look her in the eye when I know what’s coming, I carefully climb from bed and get dressed.

Birdie is worn out from me staying buried inside her all night. I was insatiable because I knew what today would bring. I knew it was the last time I was going to be inside her. I fucking knew it would be the last time I’d get to call her mine. And I motherfucking knew it’d be the last time I’d see love and happiness instead of heartbreak and betrayal.

At the bedroom door, I turn, burning every fucking detail of her sleeping peacefully into my brain.

I bow my head and close my eyes, saying goodbye to the version of me that stands in this room. When I open them, everything around me looks different. It feels different. It’s dull, colorless, and devoid of life.

This place is no longer my home. It’s only a reminder of the life I’m giving up to protect the one sleeping so contently in our bed.

“Fucking love you, little mama,” I whisper before pulling the bedroom door shut quietly behind me.

I don’t look around at this place I call home as I aim for the front door, because when I step foot inside it again, it’s no longer going to be that.

My home will be long gone from Coral Cay by the time I come back here.

I’m on a warpath when I slam through the clubhouse doors. My mood is blacker than my soul, and people move out of my path as I storm through to my office. Most of the brothers understand, all of them carefully avoiding my eyes for now. But none of them appear as if they’re faring any better, and if we don’t get our shit together, the whole goddamn ruse will be over before it even fucking begins.

I stay hidden in my office throughout the day, taking care of shit that needs to be dealt with. I check in with suppliers, reach out to clients, and run through the logs Pretty Boy sends me each week for the club businesses.

Birdie has texted me a few times. I’ve read over them, not feeling shit. I shut off the caring side of myself back at that house, and there’s no way in fuck I plan on turning that back on anytime in the near future. When I’m ready for her to come to the clubhouse, I’ll reply. Until then, the messages sit as read but not replied to.

The brothers drop in over the next couple hours in the guise of needing this or that from me, but I know they’re worried about how shut down I am.

Too bad for them, I can’t find it in me to reassure them I’m fine.

I call for church later that day so we can go over our first run at the Steel Slayers once Birdie and Valkyrie are far from Coral Cay.Cypher and Bugsy have agreed to follow them to wherever they head, ensuring they make it there safely. I warn the brothers that they all need to get their shit together because one look at them and anyone can tell they’re going to do something tonight they don’t really want to do. Their acting skills better be on fucking par when Birdie rolls through this clubhouse later.

They stare at me as if they don’t know this stranger in front of them, and I suppose none of them do. I’ve always said Birdie was the only light left inside me. They were used to seeing that, but this is who I am now—a man without a soul.

By the time I call an end to church and we file out of the chapel, they’re all back to their normal selves.

For the most part.

As night falls, I grab my phone from my pocket and pull up the last message Birdie sent me an hour ago.

LITTLE MAMA

If you don’t answer me, I’m showing up at the damn club and having it out.

I hit the reply button and type out a response.

POPE

So come.

I shove it back into my pocket after Birdie sends me a reply that she’d be here in twenty, and I search through the common room until I find the club whore I’m looking for.

“Diamond,” I bark. Her wheat-colored hair swishes as she swings her head around. I crook a finger. “Here, now.”

When she’s standing in front of me, I close the distance between us and wrap my fingers in her hair. I pull her head back until she’s staring up at me and I see the acknowledgment in hereyes that this is it. She closes them for a quick second, and when she opens them again, she’s in her role. She’s no longer Birdie’s friend but a club girl doing what her President is asking of her.

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