Page 54 of Forsaking All Others

I open my eyes, but I can’t bring myself to look at my son. All I can do is squeeze him tighter.

“Is that where my daddy is?”

Maverick nods his head.

“Yeah, buddy, that’s definitely where your daddy is.”

“Okay.” Theo yawns and nestles closer to me. “But he’s coming back soon, right?”

Maverick lifts his chin and our eyes lock, regret seeping from his dark irises.

I made a choice.

I chose him.

* * *

I don’t knowhow long I’ve been sitting in this chair, crying, watching my children sleep but since Maverick tucked them in, it’s all I’ve done. As much as I want to crawl into bed and hold my babies, I can’t. Every time I even think about closing my eyes, I see Colt’s face. I hear his voice and instead of remembering all the wonderful times we shared or the love he gave me, I recall our final moments.

I relive the anger.

The pain.

The heartbreak.

That can’t be all I remember. It can’t be all I feel.

Wiping my face with the backs of my hands, I pull myself onto my feet. I take one last look at my children before I turn and move toward the door. Pulling it open, I come face to face with a prospect. The young, inexperienced biker straightens his shoulders and stares at me wide-eyed.

“Uh, Miss Holly—”

I cut him off.Miss Holly?

“Where’s Maverick?”

He lifts his hand and scratches his jaw.

“Do you need something?”

The screening process to become a Knight seems to have taken a nosedive. I guess there aren’t too many unsuspecting fools signing up to do the Devil’s work these days. With a sigh, I gently pull the door closed behind me.

“Watch the kids,” I order. “No one goes inside the room.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And if they wake up, you come get me.”

“Right.”

I stare at him for another beat. He can’t be much older than Tara, maybe twenty years old tops. He’s someone’s son. He has his whole life ahead of him and yet he’s here, putting in time to bleed red and black. He has no idea what he’s giving up. What he’s choosing.

“Choose wisely,” I whisper. His brows knit together, but I don’t give him any more than that. I turn and make my way down the hallway. Hitting the main room, my eyes scan the space, taking in the strays that hang around drinking and smoking and the other prospects who remain on high alert. There isn’t a patched member in sight which brings my gaze to the chapel door.

A forbidden sanctuary where the sinners go to repent, and the scriptures are written in the blood of the martyr.

Church is in session.

Chapter Fifteen

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