Page 57 of Dutch

I cut her off. "We got what we came for," I reminded Makari as I led her away.

Makari was shaking under my arm. Her adrenaline had her wired up.

"What about justice for Malaki?" she demanded.

"Trust me, he'll get it," I reassured her.

As we reached my bike, I turned to Saint. "Finish him, make sure he understands the cost of fucking with my family."

I swung my leg over the bike, pulling Makari on behind me. I heard engines revving, drowning out Darian's threats, yelling, and bones cracking.

"Hold me like you love me," I told Makari, feeling her wrap her arms around my waist. I peeled out Darian's roars of pain, fading behind us.

Days later,Dutch invited me to lunch so we could talk. He sat across from me, his broad shoulder filling out that damn leather jacket even in this heat. He watched me with those hazel eyes, the tension sharp enough to cut this half-eaten sandwich in front of me.

"I need to apologize," he began.

Here we go.I arched an eyebrow. "For what? Because the list is hella long at this point."

"Everything. Not being here when you needed me, the lies, choosing the club over you. Should I keep going?"

Damn, he wasn't joking. My chest tightened at his sincerity as I struggled to find words.

"I know I made a lot of mistakes, big ones, and unfortunately, I can't take them back. Still, I want you to know I understand how much I hurt you in certain situations when I thought I was protecting you.

I fiddled with my straw, not sure how I would respond. Though his eyes were vulnerable, part of me wanted to throw lemonade in his face and keep it moving. Still, I loved this man, and I heard the rawness in his voice.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just need you to know I'm sorry, and I'm willing to do anything to make things right between us."

I watched him, wondering if he was still the smooth-talking nigga I met years ago, but all I saw was Dutch stripped bare with his heart on the table.

"That was a lot to process," I managed to say.

Dutch nodded. "I know. I'm not going anywhere, so take your time."

Despite everything, I believed him. I took a deep breath, trying to process my emotions. "I appreciate your honesty, but you need to understand it's not just about the past. It's the future. The MC life is so unstable."

"That's another thing I wanted to talk about. I'm ready to leave that behind. I'm choosing you."

My eyes widened. "What?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Sons of Shadows, I'm done. I want a fresh start."

"That's your world, Dutch, your family," I insisted.

"You're my family, not the club. The power, none of it, means anything if I don't have you."

His words hit me like a freight train. I knew what the MC meant to Dutch. It had been deeply ingrained into his life after he lost his career.

"Are you serious?" I asked, allowing his words to sink in.

The anger I'd been wearing like a second skin loosened its grip on me. I looked at Dutch for the first time, seeing past the worry lines around his eyes and the scar over his left eyebrow, seeing the man underneath.

"I get it now. Malakai, Jahlil, and even you were all trying to survive in a world that didn't give you many options. It was like you all were in a fucked-up machine, and yeah, you made choices, but it was rigged from the beginning."

The rumbling of motorcycles caught our attention and grew louder. Two cops on motorcycles escorting a hearse followed by a procession. It was the Red Scorpions, rolling through like a dark cloud.

The server approached, filling our water glasses. "I heard their President passed. This must be his funeral," he stated before walking away.

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