We nod. Even if we weren’t there, we’ve heard the story. The pain in it has rippled through the club for years. It’s why the ceremony even exists.
“But here’s the thing,” Ranger continues. “We’re not just a club anymore. We’re apack. That’s what brotherhood really is. And if we’re gonna ask our women to bare their souls to us, then they should do it surrounded by their own. Their pack. Their sisters. And definitely not on tape.”
There’s a quiet moment, and then Micky, leaning back like this is a damn soap opera, says with a smirk, “Well, since Skye’s currently the only Old Lady, I guess she’ll just have to confess to herself.”
Laughter breaks out around the table.
“I mean, shedoestalk to herself,” Joker chimes in.
“And she always wins the argument,” Vulture adds.
The room settles into chuckles and jabs, but then Caine straightens in his chair, clearing his throat. “I second the motion.”
And just like that, one by one, voices ring out.
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Hell yes.”
“Fuckin’ right.”
I’m the only one left.
Everyone looks at me. Ranger. Micky. Caine. Joker grins like the bastard he is and leans forward, elbows on the table.
“Well?” he says. “You gonna say it, motherfucker? Or you want to cry first?”
I smirk. “Aye, asshole. Of course, I fuckin’ agree.”
The room cheers again. Ranger nods once, firm, satisfied. Another decision made. Another weight off our shoulders.
We all file out after Ranger calls church to a close. The brothers are still razzing Caine about whether he’s brave or dumb enough to go home. I'm still chuckling to myself when I reach my room.
But it’s empty.
Skye’s not here.
She must’ve slipped out, probably headed to her guest house. That needs to change and soon. Especially now that the bullshit ceremony isn’t holding us back anymore. She should be in my bed. In my house. Every damn night.
I hit the shower, scrubbing the stale beer, smoke, and weight of church off me. By the time I’m dressed, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll take her breakfast… lunch since church ran long. Maybe that’ll sweeten the conversation I’m about to have with her.
The walk to her place feels too long. Her door’s unlocked, even on the compound that’s not safe. I don’t like it. I make a mental note to bring it up later.
I push the door open and head down the hall to her room. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, wet hair curling at her shoulders, dressed but unmoving. Just... staring.
My chest tightens.
“Hey,” I say, stepping in slow.
She startles like she didn’t even hear me come in. Her eyes snap up, wide and guarded.
“Everything okay?” I ask, voice lower now, cautious.
“Yeah,” she says quickly. Too quickly.
I don’t believe her. Not for a second. But I don’t push, not yet.