Page 6 of Emmy's Ride

I still remembered the way she had looked at me that night—like I was someone worth knowing. Like I wasn’t just another outlaw in a leather cut with too much blood on my hands.

I was twenty-three, just before I took over as Prez, already carrying more weight on my shoulders than any man my age should’ve. And she was forbidden. She was off-limits. Too young. Too tied to the club in ways that could get messy fast. So I’d kept my distance. For a while.

But Emmy had never been the kind of girl to let a line stay drawn for long.

She chased me relentlessly, pushing, testing, daring me to see her as something more than Luke’s little sister.

When she turned eighteen, I had no option but to surrender to the attraction. That first night, when I finally gave in, was seared into my brain. The way she’d melted against me. The way she demanded just as much as she gave. She wasn’t some sweet, innocent girl waiting to be led—she was fire, burning me alive.

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling hard.

I had tried to do right by her, had tried to be what she deserved. But I was young, wild, and already married to the club before I even realized what that truly meant. The Kings always came first—that was the way it had to be.

And Emmy? She learned that the hard way.

She had stuck by me longer than I ever expected. Longer than she should have. She had fought for me, for us, even when I made it clear where my priorities lay. At first, she accepted what little I could give her but after too many nights alone and missed times together, she started pushing back, challenging me, refusing to play the part of the obedient, waiting woman any longer.

By then, I was too deep in club business, too focused on proving myself as the new Prez, as the one who could handle whatever the Kings needed. I thought she understood. Thought she’d always understand.

Until she didn’t. Until the day she stopped arguing. Stopped waiting.

I could still hear her voice, the quiet finality in it, the way it cut more painfully than any blade ever could.

“I can’t do this anymore, Austin. I won’t be second to a damn motorcycle club. I’m not built to be some biker’s old lady, content with scraps of your time.”

She hadn’t yelled. Hadn’t thrown anything. She had simply walked away.

And I let her.

Watched her drive off with that determined spark in her eyes, telling myself it was for the best. That she was too good for this life, too smart to waste herself on a man who would never be able to put her first. That she’d be better off without me, and I wouldn’t regret it.

But damn if that wasn’t the biggest lie I ever told myself. Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter howmany meaningless hookups I’d used to try to erase her, Emmy had never left me.

Tonight, she’d stood in front of me again, that same flame in her eyes, walking straight into the inferno. No way in hell was I going to let her do it alone.

Emmy

My heels clicked against the worn linoleum of the Summit Youth Center, the familiar hum of voices and laughter filling the air. Once I graduated, this place had been my sanctuary, the one piece of stability in a world that had never stopped shifting beneath my feet since I left the Kings and all their chaos. Here, I had purpose—helping kids who were dangerously close to falling through the cracks. Right now, I needed that purpose to anchor me.

“Carter!”

The sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts just as a woman stepped into my path, an arched brow daring me to keep walking.

Maya Diaz.

Damn it. Maya knew me too well. But that was no surprise as she had been by my side since college, back when my relationship with Austin ended, and the impossible dream of building a life outside the club started.

“Are you gonna tell me why you look like you just walked out of a crime scene, or am I gonna have to shake it out of you?” Maya demanded, dark eyes scanning me like a human lie detector.

I’d gotten back late last night. The hour drive home had given me too much time to reflect on seeing Austin again. To remember. Then I hadn’t been able to fall asleep until almost four in the morning.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Not a crime scene. Just a bad idea in the form of my past.”

Her expression softened just a fraction. “Austin?”

Of course, she knew. Maya had been there after the breakup, had been the one to drag me out of bed, ply me with tequila, and swear on everything holy that one day I’d find a man who wouldn’t make me feel like I was competing with an entire motorcycle club.

Maya shook her head and tugged me into my office. “Alright, spill. And don’t even try to downplay it.”

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