Page 10 of Wilder's Promise
"What's that?"
"Don't die doing my father's dirty work." She says it lightly, but I catch the genuine concern beneath the words. "I'd hate to have patched you up for nothing."
I smile despite the seriousness of our situation. "I'll do my best."
The trees thin out as we approach the edge of town. Pine Haven sprawls below us—a small logging community nestled in the valley, population barely ten thousand. From up here, it looks peaceful, ordinary. No one would guess that beneath its surface, a war is brewing.
I take a roundabout route through the back streets, avoiding the main thoroughfare where we might be spotted. The clubhouse sits on three acres at the edge of town, a converted lumber mill surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire. To outsiders, it looks like a fortress. To us, it's home.
As we approach the gate, I see our prospects standing guard, assault rifles visible. They recognize the Charger and swing the gate open, closing it immediately behind us. The compound beyond is a hive of activity. Brothers moving with purpose, strengthening defenses, readying for whatever comes next.
I park in front of the main building, a two-story structure of weathered brick and steel. The Outlaw Order logo, a stylized grim reaper holding scales of justice, is painted across one wall, our colors declaring ownership to anyone who approaches.
"We're here," I tell Emma, who's gone quiet, taking in the scene before her. "Ready to see your father?"
She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders. "As ready as I'll ever be."
I exit the car, scanning the compound out of habit. Reaper stands at the clubhouse door, his imposing figure unmistakable even at a distance. Beside him is a petite woman with long dark hair - Evelyn. The woman who's brought Reaper back to life.
Emma hasn't noticed them yet as she steps out of the car, retrieving her backpack from the floor. When she straightens and turns toward the clubhouse, she freezes, her eyes locked on her father.
And the woman standing beside him.
"Who is that?" she asks, voice barely audible.
"That's Evelyn," I say quietly. "The woman I mentioned. The one who stayed."
Understanding dawns in her eyes. "The one from the trafficking ring."
"Yes."
"And she's with my father? Really? She's beautiful." The question contains a universe of emotions—confusion, suspicion, perhaps a hint of hurt.
"They found each other in the middle of all this. She's good for him, Emma. She's brought back parts of him I don't think even he knew were still there."
Chapter 4 - Emma
"She's good for him, Emma. She's brought back parts of him I don't think even he knew were still there."
I stare at the woman standing beside my father. She can't be much older than me, early twenties at most. Curvy like me, with flowing dark hair and an ethereal beauty that seems out of place in this compound of violence and testosterone. The way she stands close to my father, her hand lightly touching his arm, tells me everything I need to know.
My stomach twists with a complicated emotion I can't fully name. Betrayal? Disgust? Jealousy? A toxic cocktail of all three bubbles up inside me as I watch them.
For years, I told myself I didn't care what my father did, who he spent his time with. I convinced myself I was beyond caring about a man who chose his criminal lifestyle over his family. But seeing him with this woman, this girl barely older than me, ignites something primal and painful.
He left us. He let Mom take me away without a fight. He abandoned his role as my father when it became inconvenient.
And now he's what? Playing protector to some girl my age? Finding love while I've spent years building walls around my heart because of the damage he caused?
"Emma?" Wilder's voice sounds distant through the roaring in my ears. "You okay?"
I grab my backpack from the car floor, slinging it over my shoulder with enough force to make my arm ache. Without answering him, without acknowledging anyone, I slam the car door and stride toward the clubhouse.
My father steps forward, his face lighting up with an expression I haven't seen in years. Hope, relief, something almost like joy. "Emma—"
I brush past him without a word, not even slowing down. Past Evelyn with her wide, uncertain eyes. Past the cluster of leather-clad men watching curiously from the clubhouse steps. Into the building and down the first hallway I find, my vision blurring with tears I refuse to shed.
Behind me, I hear my father call my name again, confusion replacing the warmth in his voice. Good. Let him be confused. Let him wonder. Let him feel a fraction of the uncertainty I've lived with for years.
