Page 8 of Kobra's Opal

A purpose other than the brotherhood and my family to keep living. In this moment, I know. It wasn’t what I wanted, it was who; and her name was Opal.

All day I had been fighting with myself. Drawing a line between the club and Opal, and who I was—who I was meant to be. I realized as I walked from the boardroom. That I couldn’t hold my anger at my father anymore, or the last name I carried.

It was time to be my own man. I wore this cut, this brotherhood—it no longer was wearing me. I had blood on my name, I was no angel. A tainted monster—perhaps.

I wanted Opal. I was done pretending like I was okay with letting her go. It took me six years to become the man she needed. And it was a lecture from my father that made me snap.

It was time to be a man that created a legacy and not lived within one created for him.

I was Kobra Kincaid and as mounted my bike. I ready to rise up to my birth right—no. I was ready to rise above it. I was ready to be my own man.

A knocking on my apartment door. Caused me to abandon the food I was cooking. Heading for the front door, I shouted I am coming; when the knocking didn’t stop. Finally reaching it. I opened the door ajar. Seeing Kobra standing at my front door. Took me back in time. To the night I was staying at my brother's five years ago.

I stared up at him. “Kobra,” I wasn’t completely shocked he was here. Still, it was hard to see him after all these years. Causally seeing him in the street. When for five years we had avoided each other. I frowned slightly, seeing confliction in his eyes. “Are you okay?” I found myself asking a question he was known to ask me.

“Can I come in?” His deep rumble of a voice asked.

Why did it feel like if I opened this door letting him, I was letting him in to more than my house? I nodded my head and stepped back, opening the door fully for him.

“How’s your night been?” I asked, closing the door behind him.

“Busy,” He bit out, and then looked around the dimly lit apartment. “Expecting company?”

“No.” I replied and wandered back to the kitchen. “You hungry?” I asked over my shoulder. While my stomach is tightening and twisting and I was struggling not to let my nerves be heard in my tone. I could do this. I could totally pretend this was normal.

I glanced back and it is his expression that had me spinning around. “Okay, Kobra, what’s happened?” I stopped and put a hand on my hip. “You aren’t okay, one look at you and I see. . .” I frowned. Could I explain his expression? “Something happened.” I said—that much I was certain of.

Kobra hadn’t spoken to me in five years. It was only because his sister stayed here for a few weeks. That we even reconnected. But I know Kobra. I know when he is in over his head—more importantly, when something is wrong.

His electric blue eyes are locked on me, and then he slowly nodded his head. “I’ll stay for something to eat, if the offer is still good?” He got around telling me what was wrong.

“Of course, take a seat.” I sighed and gestured my head towards the table, while walking back to the stove. “It’s just stew. I’ve sort of been sick and I don’t see the point in cooking one meal, for one person.” I said, stirring the pot. “Be different if I was cooking for someone, you know?”

I went up on my toes to grab bowls down from the cupboard.

“That your way of saying you want to cook for me, baby girl?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you’d take that from what I said.” I continued to talk to him, with my back to him. Placing the bowls down. “I’m just saying. I don’t like cooking for one. So you’re afternoon, how was it?”

I poured the stew into the bowls and spun around, heading for the table. It was sort of weird to see someone sitting at it. Who wasn’t my mother, giving me a lecture on business.

I placed the bowl in front of Kobra and he gives me this look. As if. . . as if this is what he’d always dreamt of or something. I couldn’t explain it, but he’s looking at me—like I was giving him a lot more than a bowl of stew.

“Shit day,” Kobra said, picking up a spoon. “Hades and I got into it and then I. . .” he stopped.

I arched my eyebrows at him to continue, before placing the cut up bread stick in front of him.

“Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are lately?” Kobra completely changes the subject, which caused me to chuckle.

“Okay player, what do you want?” I said, putting a chair up to the table and sitting across from him. I’m wearing track suit pants and a loose t-shirt. I was not fucking beautiful, as he put it. I took a bite of a piece of bread stick, waiting for him to come clean.

He met my eyeline. “You, happy, that’s what I want.” He said it like he honestly meant it and would do anything to make sure it happened.

Me happy. Now that is a fairy tale. I picked up my spoon, staying silent.

“What’s going on with you Opal? Ya were back working for you mom—”

“I don’t need disapproval.” I spoke over him while keeping my eyes on the stew. “Trust me, Kobra, no one can loath me. As much as I do.” I glanced up at him. “I hate myself and what I do, enough for both of us. So don’t sit there and give me a lecture.”

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