Page 38 of Scornful

"Never had a family growing up," he says simply. "Bounced around foster homes from the time I was eight. Some were okay. Most weren't."

My heart clenches at the matter-of-fact way he says it, like it's just another piece of his history instead of something that shaped everything he became.

I think about my own childhood—chaotic sometimes with the club, but always surrounded by people who loved me.

"What happened to your parents?" I ask softly.

"Mom died when I was seven. Overdose. Dad was never in the picture." He's staring at his hands now, fingers interlaced. "She tried, I think. But the drugs always won."

"Geirolf..." I breathe, not knowing what to say.

"No one ever gave a shit about me after that," he continues, the words flowing now like a dam has broken. "I was justanother mouth to feed, another check from the state. Learned real quick that the only person looking out for me was…me."

I want to touch him, to offer comfort, but something in his posture tells me to wait, to let him get this out.

"Some homes were decent. Mostly just wanted the money, though. Had one family that locked me in the closet when I acted up. Another where the dad liked to use his belt for every little thing. One where the older kids..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter now."

"It does matter," I say firmly. "It matters because it happened to you."

He looks at me then, surprise flashing in his eyes like he's not used to anyone caring about his past.

"First time I saw the Raiders of Valhalla, I was nineteen. Working at some shit garage for minimum wage, sleeping in my car half the time. Eating ramen and whatever I could steal." A small smile tugs at his lips. "They rolled in like thunder—the way they were in unison, the confidence, the brotherhood. Never seen anything like it."

"What happened?" I prompt softly when he falls silent, lost in the memory.

"Tor was a prospect then. His bike was running rough, needed serious work. The owner was out, told me to handle it." Geirolf's smile becomes more real. "Tor watched me work, asked questions. When I finished, he asked if I wanted to grab a beer."

"And that was it?"

"That was the beginning." He finally looks at me fully, and the vulnerability in his eyes takes my breath away. "Took three months before they let me prospect, another few years before I got my patch. But from that firstkirkjameeting, that first ride... I knew I'd found what I'd been looking for my whole life."

"A family," I whisper, understanding flooding through me.

He nods. "Brothers who'd die for me. Who'd have my back no matter what. Who gave a shit whether I lived or died." His hand finds mine, fingers interlacing. "Never had that before. Never thought I would. These men became everything—fathers, brothers, protectors. Runes especially. He saw something in me, gave me purpose. I’m sure eventually I would’ve followed my mother’s path if I was alone for much longer."

The weight of his confession settles over us.

It explains so much about him, and I’m glad to know it.

"And now?" I ask. "With us? Doesn't this risk everything you've built?"

His grip on my hand tightens. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lie awake wondering what the fuck I'm doin’?" He turns his body toward mine, free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "But then I see you, and none of that matters. The club gave me a family, but you... you make me feel like I'm worth something just for being me. Not for what I can do, not for my loyalty, just... me."

The words break something open inside me.

I surge forward, capturing his lips with mine, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss.

He responds immediately, his hand sliding into my hair as he deepens the contact.

I taste the pain of his past, and something else—hope for a future that terrifies us both.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"I'm scared," I admit, my forehead resting against his. "Not of you. Of what happens when people find out. Of what my dad will do. He's protective of me and Ingrid—you have no idea how much."

"I have some idea," he says dryly. "Emil made it pretty clear what would happen to anyone who hurt you."

I wince. "When?"

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