Page 234 of Sins of the Hidden

Prez spat blood onto the ground, that defiant grin still plastered on his face as they shoved him into the back seat. The few brothers who had lingered at the road's edge despite Law's orders watched in stunned silence—men who remembered their former president, men who had been there when he betrayed them.

Their voices dropped to hushed, reverent whispers, as if they were witnessing something sacred and terrible all at once.

Law looked from the police car to me and back, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes as he pieced together what had happened. The realization hit him visibly—a physical jolt, as if someone had struck him. He stared in disbelief, betrayal and fury battling across his face. The man who had betrayed the club, who had abandoned his brothers, was nowmaking the ultimate sacrifice. And Law didn't know what to do with that.

His jaw worked silently, muscles bunching and releasing as he processed what was happening. For a moment, I thought he might go after Prez—might try to stop this, to set things right, to restore the natural order where he, not Prez, made the sacrifices for his family.

But then his eyes dropped to Oakley's still face, and something broke in him. The legendary enforcer who had put the fear of God into rivals across the country, crumpled inward like a house of cards. This was the man beneath the myth—a father facing the possibility of losing his daughter.

He said nothing, just turned his attention back to Oakley, carefully gathering her from my arms with a tenderness that belied his brutal strength.

"We need to get her to Hex," he said, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. He adjusted her against his chest, cradling her like she was still the little girl he'd raised. "She's ice cold. Might be going into shock."

The police car pulled away, lights cutting through the night. Just like that, Prez was gone. The man who had found me, broken and bloody, all those years ago. The man who had shaped me, for better or worse, into who I was today.

His eyes had met mine through rain-streaked glass, steady and unafraid. It felt like a final benediction, a wordless forgiveness I hadn't earned. I could barely breathe as the car pulled away, carrying the only man who'd ever tried—however brokenly—to save me.

A wave of something dangerously close to grief threatened to overwhelm me. I swallowed hard against it, forcing it down where I kept all my other unprocessed rage.

Police don’t leave a crime scene.Fuck.

“Follow me,” Law whispered, staying in a crouched position under the lining of the trees. “We gotta get the fuck out of here.”

The bat remained at the bottom of the water, along with the last remnants of who I used to be. The man who had reshaped me in his image was being taken away in chains, sacrificing himself for my future. Everything had changed in the span of a heartbeat, and I didn't know what would come next.

I stood there, rain washing over me, feeling hollow and full all at once. The bat was gone, now sunken at the bottom of the lake. Prez was gone. And yet, somehow, impossibly, I was still here. Still breathing. Still free.

My eyes fixed on her lips in the darkness, the remnants of thread still embedded in her flesh where Mother had sewn her mouth shut. The same thing Mother had inflicted on me as a child. The rage I'd felt when I first discovered them hadn't dulled—it had sharpened, crystallized into something lethal.

She'd taken my voice as a child. Then she'd tried to take Oakley's. The ultimate violation twisted in my chest, a hatred so pure it felt holy.

A monster created by a monster. Now that monster had marked what was mine.

I didn't deserve Oakley. But I'd spend every remaining moment proving I could protect her—from Mother, from the world, from everything.

Mother was still out there. She'd escaped while I made my choice—Oakley or revenge. In the end, there was never really a choice at all. Oakley would always win. But the thought of Mother breathing the same air as my wife made something dark and vicious twist inside me. She'd almost taken Oakley from me. She'd almost succeeded where everyone else had failed.

Next time, and there would be a next time., Mother wouldn't get away.

Mother didn't understand what she'd created in me. What lengths I would go to. What I would become to keep Oakley safe. She thought she knew violence, but she'd only seen the beginning of what I was capable of.

When I found her, I wouldn't be the boy cowering beneath her needle and thread. The son that wanted her to love me. I'd be the monster she created. I'd carve away pieces of her until nothing remained but memory. I'd make her suffer in ways even she couldn't imagine.

For Oakley's lips. For her fear. For every mark left on what was mine. For what she did to Chet.

Mother would pay in blood.

And I would be the one to collect.

The monitors beeped like countdown timers to hell. Each pulse tracking whether she lived or died, green lines jumping across screens—proof her heart beat, not proof she'd wake. Ever wake again.

Ever look at me again.

Dried gore had matted her chestnut hair into dark, twisted clumps that stuck to the pillow. Dirt streaked her face, mixing with tears that dried while I wasn't there to wipe them away. The stench of that place clung to her skin like a second layer of filth that antiseptic couldn't touch.

I'd been too late. Not just to save her. To stop the moment she stopped being soft. They stole her and left me with a corpse that still breathed.

She was on her back in the hospital bed while I laid on my side right next to her, refusing to relinquish any form of contact with her. If it wasn’t for the annoying fucking monitors I would think that I was holding her too tight. But I didn’t fucking care.

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