Page 53 of Doc
The certainty in his voice, the unwavering belief that we could navigate this together, loosened something tight in my chest.I allowed myself to imagine a future beyond justice, beyond vengeance -- a future with someone who saw me clearly and wanted me anyway.
“I don’t want to change you.I don’t want to be the outsider who pulls you away from your brothers, your loyalty.”
Doc shook his head slightly, still maintaining our connection.“That’s not how this works.The club is part of me, yes.But so are you now.And they see it.They understand what we’ve become to each other.”
My eyes burned with unexpected tears.This man had defied his club for me, had taken a bullet for me, had stood beside me through the darkest moments of my life.And now he was offering me a future, a place, a belonging I hadn’t dared hope for.
I closed my eyes, letting myself lean more fully into him, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.“I want to stay.With you.If there’s a place for me here.”
I felt rather than saw his smile, the subtle shift in his face where it touched mine.His thumb traced small circles at the base of my skull, soothing and possessive all at once.
“There is.There always will be.”
The moment hung suspended between us, fragile and precious in the gathering darkness.Then the clubhouse door opened again, the sound of it breaking our bubble of intimacy.I started to pull back, but Doc’s hand held me steady for one moment longer, reluctant to break the connection.
“Doc?Nova?”Savior’s voice carried across the yard.“Time for Church.We’re voting.”
Doc sighed, his forehead finally lifting from mine.“Guess it’s time.You ready for this?”
I nodded, sudden nerves fluttering in my stomach.The official vote -- the formal decision on whether I would be accepted into the club’s extended family, whether I would be acknowledged as Doc’s… what?Girlfriend seemed too trivial, partner too clinical.The club had their own terminology for these relationships, their own rituals I was only beginning to understand.
Doc stood first, then reached down to help me up.I leaned into his solid strength.
Doors loomed before me, heavy wood carved with the club’s reaper insignia.Unlike the common areas of the clubhouse I’d grown accustomed to, this room remained sacred and separate -- a place where club business happened behind closed doors, where decisions were made that shaped the fate of every member.
Women weren’t allowed in Church unless specifically invited, another rule in the complex code that governed this world.Doc’s hand rested at the small of my back, a steady presence as Savior pushed open the door and motioned us inside.
The scent hit me first -- leather and tobacco, whiskey and something older, something that spoke of decades of men gathering in this space.The walls were lined with photographs, patches from fallen members, mementos of club history that created a tapestry of belonging I could feel even as an outsider.
Doc’s hand was a gentle, reassuring presence against my back as he guided me to stand at the threshold.He wouldn’t be seated at the table for this -- his vote would count, but this judgment was primarily about me, my worthiness to be officially recognized by the club.I swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in my throat.
Savior moved to the head of the table, his face solemn in the amber lighting.A wooden gavel rested before him, its handle worn smooth by years of use.With deliberate ceremony, he picked it up and struck the table once, the sharp crack silencing any remaining murmurs.
“We’re here to vote on Nova Treemont.Bats’ niece.Blood of our brother.”
They all focused on me, and it took everything I had not to shrink back.I forced myself to stand straight, channeling what I imagined would be my uncle’s strength.What would Bats think of this moment?Would he approve of his niece standing before his brothers, asking for a place in their world?He’d wanted to keep me from the danger of the Dixie Reapers, but my mother had been the one to bring trouble to my door, and the Dixie Reapers had helped keep me safe.
The silence stretched, heavy with unasked questions and the weight of tradition.Then Venom rose from his seat, his fingers brushing the patches on his cut in what seemed like an unconscious gesture of respect for the colors he wore.
“I’ve watched this girl since she first walked into our clubhouse.Carrying her mama’s notebook, looking for justice when no one else would help her.”His eyes, sharp despite his age, found mine across the room.“She’s got Bats’ fire in her.Same determination, same loyalty.She didn’t run when things got dangerous.Didn’t break when Wallace had us in his crosshairs.”
He paused, looking around the table at his brothers.“She risked everything to help us take down those traffickers.Stood her ground when most would have folded.”Another pause, heavy with significance.“That’s the kind of loyalty we honor.The kind of courage we respect.”
My chest tightened at his words, unexpected emotion clogging my throat.Coming from Venom -- an elder of the club, the one whose support had first opened doors for me -- this validation carried weight I hadn’t anticipated.
Tempest spoke next, his massive frame shifting as he leaned forward on thick forearms.“Girl’s got guts.Didn’t run when things got ugly.Stood alongside us when bullets were flying.And she took care of our brother when he was hit.Didn’t panic, didn’t freeze.Acted like she belonged there.”
The simple statement from the Sergeant-at-Arms -- a man who’d initially viewed me with open skepticism -- sent warmth spreading through my chest.I’d earned this.Not through blood connection alone, but through action, through proving myself when it mattered most.
Saint’s contribution was more measured, his analytical mind evident in his careful phrasing.“What matters to this club is loyalty and sacrifice.Nova has demonstrated both.She put herself at risk to serve justice for her family -- our brother’s family.She’s proven her understanding of what matters to us.”
Other members spoke, their words blurring somewhat as I struggled to absorb what was happening.Men who had barely acknowledged my existence weeks ago were now voicing support, recognition, acceptance.The enormity of it washed over me in waves, leaving me light-headed with its implications.
Through it all, Doc remained silent, but I could feel his gaze on me -- steady, proud, unwavering.His silence wasn’t absence but purposeful restraint, allowing his brothers to form their own judgments without his influence.Yet his presence behind me spoke volumes, a physical declaration of where he stood.
Savior waited until everyone had spoken, then looked directly at me, his expression impossible to read.“Nova Treemont, you’ve heard what these men think of you.Do you have anything to add before we vote?”
I hadn’t expected to be asked to speak.For a moment, panic fluttered in my chest, words evaporating under the pressure of all those eyes.Then I felt Doc shift slightly behind me, his solid presence a reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.
