Page 20 of Wings
My throat went dry.
"I had feelings for her." The words came out raw, pulled from some deep place I'd thought was sealed. "Tried not to. She was Alex's girl. But every time I saw her—every time she smiled at me or asked about my day or just existed in the same space—it got worse."
Thor shifted by the door, leather creaking. Tyson stayed statue-still, but I felt his attention sharpen like a blade finding its edge.
"She used to draw," I continued, the memories flooding back uninvited. "Little sketches in the margins of her notebooks. Butterflies mostly. She'd color them in with these fancy pencils, each wing perfect. One time Alex got high and tore up her sketch pad. Found her crying in the garage, trying to tape the pieces back together."
I paused, remembering how her hands had shaken, how she'd looked up at me with those jade eyes full of hurt and confusion. How I'd wanted to hunt Alex down and break every finger that had touched her work.
"I helped her fix it," I said instead. "Spent three hours taping butterfly wings back together. She never knew I kept one—little monarch she'd drawn. Carried it through two deployments before an IED turned it to ash along with half my squad."
Duke leaned back, chair groaning under his weight. "You enlisted to get away from her."
Not a question. A statement of fact that hit too close to truth.
"Partly," I admitted. "The way she looked at me sometimes—like maybe she saw something in me worth wanting. I couldn'tdo that to Alex. Couldn't be that guy. So yeah, I ran. Traded one war for another."
"And now?"
"Now she goes by Kiara Mitchell. Lost weight, jumps at shadows, has the kind of hypervigilance that comes from somebody hurting you bad enough to rewire your nervous system." My hands clenched, remembering how she'd flinched when I moved too fast. "Whatever Alex did to her after I left, it broke something. And she's terrified—of him, of anyone connected to that life."
"Including you?"
"Especially me." The admission tasted like copper and regret. "I couldn't be with her then and I can't now. She's Alex's ex. She's traumatized from whatever he did to her. I'm broken from the war—hell, I can't even walk right anymore. And even if none of that mattered, getting involved with her would compromise the supply line you need. She's already spooked. Push too hard and she runs."
Duke studied me like I was a problem to be solved or dissolved. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant rumble of bikes in the yard.
"Tell me about your brother," he said finally.
The words were calm, almost casual. But I knew a killing blow when I heard one. This was the moment that would determine if I rode with the Heavy Kings or got buried by them. The truth would hurt, but lies would be fatal.
I met his eyes straight on. "Alex is Iron Serpents. Has been for three years."
The room exploded.
Thor's hand went to his gun so fast I barely tracked the movement. Tyson materialized from the shadows, suddenly taking up twice as much space, violence radiating off him like heat from a forge. But Duke—Duke went perfectly still. Not thestillness of calm but of a predator the second before it strikes. The kind of quiet that meant someone was about to die, and die badly.
"You've got ten seconds to explain," Duke said, each word precise as a bullet, "why I shouldn't have Thor put one in your skull right now."
"You never asked about family." I kept my voice steady, even as my pulse hammered. "I never volunteered. Alex and I haven't spoken since I enlisted. Haven't been in the same room since I shipped out to basic. Far as I'm concerned, we stopped being brothers the day he chose drugs over everything else."
"Bullshit." Thor's growl came from somewhere deep and dangerous. "Blood is blood. Every run you've made, every bit of intel you've gathered, you knew your blood was on the other side."
I turned to face him directly, knowing it might be the last move I made.
"My blood is here," I said, surprising myself with the vehemence. "Alex chose his path. I chose mine. The fact that we shared a womb doesn't make us the same person. Doesn't make us anything to each other anymore."
Tyson moved from the corner, circling behind me with predator grace. "How do we know you're not feeding him information? How do we know this isn't some long con? It wouldn’t be the first time a prospect had betrayed the club."
I held my ground. Getting angry would just confirm their suspicions. Getting dead would confirm them permanently.
"Because I could have let Ki—Kiara—recognize me and say nothing," I said. "Could have used the connection to get close, gather intel on your operations through her. Could have worked that angle for weeks, maybe months. Instead, I reported it immediately. Called Doc the second I got clear of the garage."
"Here's what interests me, prospect," Duke said, leaning back with the casual confidence of a man who held all the cards. "Your brother's crew has been trying to disrupt our medical pipeline for months. Probing for weaknesses, looking for our suppliers. Now you show up at a meet, and suddenly our most reliable source is compromised. Coincidence?"
The implication hung in the air like gas fumes, one spark from explosion. They thought I'd set it up. Thought I'd orchestrated the whole thing.
"If I wanted to compromise the pipeline," I said carefully, "why would I use myself as the trigger? Why put myself in the crosshairs? I could have fed Alex information about drop times, let the Serpents ambush someone else. Instead, I'm standing here explaining why my estranged junkie brother's bad decisions aren't my fault."
