But the people running that place... they were monsters, the kind that feasted on hope.
A faint shadow fell across the doorway, and my head snapped up. A figure stood silhouetted against the brighter light of the corridor, a shape I recognized instantly.
Slowly sitting up, I looked at my best friend and watched a slow smile spread across his face.
“Well?”
“Shame called me.”
“And?”
“He’s got her, brother. She’s safe.”
Closing my eyes, my head fell back on my pillows as tears streamed down my face, while every emotion I’d been holding in, caged within me all these years, burst forward like a tsunami, threatening to drown me in its wake.
My sobs racked my body, raw and ragged, each one a testament to the years of anguish, the suffocating darkness I’d been forced to endure. Montana’s confirmation wasn’t just information; it was absolution. It was the first sliver of light piercing the perpetual night that had consumed me since Diana had been ripped away.
Montana’s hand found mine, his grip firm, a silent acknowledgment of the shared weight we’d carried.
The sterile room, once a cage, now felt like a sanctuary, the impossible finally made real. But even amidst the overwhelming relief, an icy dread coiled in my gut.
Shame had Diana. That was undeniable.
But “safe” was a relative term when dealing with the scum we were up against. George was dead, yes, but his tendrils likely still reached into every dark corner, his influence a venom that could poison even the most secure haven.
And DakotamotherfuckingStone.
The thought of him, the architect of so much of this fucked-up reality, working in tandem with that cunt Meredith Doherty... it made my blood run cold.
Shame may have pulled off a miracle, but this fight, my fight, was far from over.
I pushed myself up, ignoring the ache in my body, the IV pole clattering as I moved. “Where is she?” I rasped, my voice thick with tears and a nascent fury.
Montana met my gaze, his own eyes grim. “Shame’s got her locked down somewhere solid. He said he’d fill us in when hecould. But you’re right,” he added, his voice dropping to a low growl. “My dad might be a ghost, but Dakota’s got a long fucking memory. We can’t just sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop. I’m bringing in some help.”
The fight for Diana wasn’t just about rescuing her anymore; it was about ensuring she stayed rescued, and that the monsters who’d tried to break us would finally be put down for good.
The flight from Lincoln, Nebraska, to New York City was uneventful. Too bad I couldn’t say the same when I arrived home, because the second Montana and I entered the clubhouse, Mercy laid into us. “SHAME IS ALIVE?!” my brother roared, storming toward me. “All this motherfucking time, you two numbnuts knew and let us all believe that Reaper killed our brother!”
“It was Bane’s idea,” Montana quickly said, throwing me under the proverbial bus.
Mercy’s face was a thundercloud, his voice a physical blow that resonated in the very air of the clubhouse. My stomach churned, not from fear, but from the raw, unadulterated betrayal I saw in his eyes.
He was right. I let them grieve, let them believe the lie, all to protect the love of my life, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Montana’s quick deflection, while predictable, did little to ease the guilt that settled heavy in my gut.
This was going to be harder than I anticipated.
“It wasn’t like that, Mercy,” I started, my voice still raspy from disuse and pain. “Things were complicated. It was the only way.” But my words felt hollow even to me, a weak excuse against the storm brewing in my brother’s gaze.
Mercy wasn’t buying it, and frankly, neither was I.
Mercy’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. He took a step closer, his presence an imposing force. “Complicated? The only complicated thing here is how you kept this from us. We mourned Shame. We grieved for him. And you, you sat there and let us wallow in it.” He gestured wildly, his voice cracking with the raw pain of betrayal. “You think that’s fair, brother? You think that’s what family does?”
His accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
My gaze flickered to Montana, who remained silent, his expression unreadable, but I knew he felt the weight of Mercy’s words as much as I did.
“It was to keep her safe, Mercy,” I finally managed, my voice a low growl, laced with the lingering pain from my own ordeal. “Shame’s survival and Diana’s discovery—both had to be kept under wraps. George was still sniffing around, and Dakota... that fucking snake. If they knew Shame was alive, if they knew we were closing in, he would have moved Diana, or worse.” I met Mercy’s furious gaze, willing him to understand. “This wasn’t about deception for the sake of it; it was about survival. Our survival. Diana’s survival.”