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“Angela, I’d like you to meet Eve. She’s gonna stay the night with you until Shane can get her car fixed.”

Extending my hand, she looked at it, then turned and walked back into her house, never saying a word.

“You’re gonna have to excuse Angela. She’s not very talkative,” James stated, placing the young girl on her feet. “Lucas, Kitty, I want you to help your momma today, okay. Your dad is going to be at the garage working on Eve’s car, so in the meantime, I’m counting on you both to make sure Eve feels welcome.”

Both kids nodded.

Angela’s silence unnerved me, but I understood her reserve, especially after James’ warning. The children, however, were a different story. They were curious and full of questions, their lively chatter filling the quiet house. I learned that Lucas was twelve and Kitty was seven, and they were as different as night and day. Lucas was all serious and stoic, while Kitty was a whirlwind of energy and giggles. They reminded me of myself and my siblings, and a pang of sadness hit me as I wondered if I would ever see them again.

That night, as I lay in the guest room, I couldn’t stop thinking about Angela and her sad eyes. I sensed a story there, one that I might never uncover. I felt a connection to her, a shared understanding of pain and loss. Little did I know that in a few short years, my life would soon mirror hers in ways I could never have imagined.

Shane Keller was a big man with a smile that could light up the night sky. Holding his daughter Kitty, he handed me the keys to my car. “All fixed. James would have been here himself, but he had to take care of some family business.”

“Is everything okay?”

Shane groaned. “Not really. Let’s just say if he were smart, he’d hire a divorce attorney fast.”

“I understand.” I smirked, looking at my car. “Thank you for fixing it up. I really appreciate it.”

As I drove away from the Keller house, I felt a sense of unease settle over me. Shane’s words about James’ failed marriage had me wondering about what the future had in store for me and August. I knew all too well the dangers and temptations that lurked within the shadows of a clubhouse, and my heart ached just thinking about the what-ifs.

Chapter Twenty-Two

August

“Where the fuck is she?” I seethed, stalking Shame as he slowly edged away until his back hit the wall. “It’s been almost a month since I watched her drive away, Shame, and in that time, you’ve found jack shit. My woman is out there somewhere, about to give fucking birth. She’s alone, scared and unable to contact anyone for fucking help.”

Shame flinched, his eyes darting nervously towards the hallway, as if expecting rescue. My rage simmered just beneath the surface, raw and unyielding, fueled by months of uncertainty and the gnawing ache of fear.

“You promised me answers,” I hissed, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles whitened. “You said you had leads. You said you’d bring her home.”

Shame swallowed hard. “I-I thought I had something. That tip about the old motel on Route 16, but when I got there, she was already gone. There was nothing, not even a note. I swear I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough.” My voice broke, the sharpness replaced by desperation. “She’s out there, and every night I imagine her alone, scared, wishing I could find her. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I want is to know she’s safe.”

The silence was thick, punctuated only by the muffled sounds of the brothers partying, drinking, and having fun. Shame looked away, guilt etched into every line of his face. “I’ve got feelers out everywhere. If she turns up, I’ll know,” he offered, but the words felt empty, a lifeline made of smoke.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, forcing back the tide of helplessness. My office felt suffocating, the air thick with secrets and the distant laughter of men who had never known real loss. I turned, pacing, needing movement to keep the panic at bay.

Shame lingered in the corner, wringing his hands. “I know you want her found,” he muttered, voice breaking under the pressure. “I know you miss her. But, Bane, you need to keep it together. If she reaches out, if she leaves any trace, I’ll find it. I promise.”

Promises, promises. I’d learned how little they meant these past two months. My mind flicked to the last time I’d held her, the way her shoulders shook as she drove away, the stubborn tilt of her chin. Her absence gnawed at me, relentless as hunger.

I moved to the window, watching shadows flicker across the harbor. Somewhere out there, she was fighting through hell alone, and I was powerless to reach her. Time stretched cruelly, every second scraping across my nerves.

A knock at the door jarred us both. Shame startled, eyes wide, and I felt my pulse hammer in my throat. Hope and dread mingled, sharp as lightning—maybe word, maybe nothing—but I clung to it, because even the faintest possibility was better than the endless silence of not knowing.

I squared my shoulders, ready for anything and nothing, praying that somehow, this would be the moment when everything changed, when the door slammed open and in walked George Stone. Seeing Shame, the man sneered, “Get the fuck out of here.”

Shame didn’t need to be told twice. The second my intern was gone, George slammed the door shut and grinned. “Where the fuck did your parents take that cunt of a sister of yours?”

“Fuck you.”

Shaking his head, George tsked. “Gonna let that one slide ’cause you and my boy are tight, but make no mistakes, August. I have no fucking problem putting your ass in the ground.”

“Who says I’m tight with him? That motherfucker ruined my sister’s life. He can get fucked, right along with the rest of you fucking Stones. You and your family are nothing but fucking garbage, and the sooner the whole fucking lot of you die off, the happier I’ll be. So get the fuck out of my office. I’ve got nothing to fucking say to you.”

George’s grin only widened, his eyes glinting with the kind of malice that never needed an excuse. “Careful, August. You’re not untouchable. You think anyone here’s going to lift a finger for you once you’re no longer useful?” He leaned forward, knuckles whitening against my desk, every word sharp and deliberate. “You want to keep breathing, you start remembering who’s in charge.”