Page 1 of From the Ashes
PROLOGUE
LANA
One year ago
“Where are we going, Mommy?”
“We’re going to visit Auntie Nancy.”
“But…Daddy?”
“Daddy is…working, love. He won’t be coming this time.” A moment passes before my son says the words that hit harder than any blow Ben ever gave me.
“With Auntie, Mommy’s safe.” I fall silent, tears quietly streaming, knowing I’ve made the right choice. Even a three-year-old understood this better than I did.
“Yes, Noah, Mommy’s safe now.”
And we drive.
We drive until my past disappears in the rearview.
We drive until all I can see is hope ahead of me.
1
CARTER
We all havea story of why we became who we are. Mine is a bit…peculiar. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had particular tastes. Hobbies, music, women. Everything I enjoyed never quite seemed like what the folks around me liked too. I’ve got a handful of memories from my childhood, playing cat and mouse with my two older sisters, but I don’t think I was that unhinged back then, though. But after the event, my brain rewired itself, and I guess that’s how I became me. The silent psychopath most folks were afraid of.
It didn’t matter that I was trying as hard as I could to appear normal, read facial expressions, and observe body languages, people could always tell something was off. And they were right about that, but it didn’t mean I liked it either way.
Having no social cues sucks. Not knowing if someone is genuinely laughing or terrified sucks. It made my life so empty, all I had left was my craft. And by craft, I mean torturing any men who wanted to hurt the club slowly. It was my art form, each cut a way to ease my pain, each punch like words I could never say out loud. It was my outlet to breathe when I couldn’t, my work, my reputation.
It was.
Was.
‘Cause everything changed a year ago. I knew I needed to change. With every year spent on this earth, something was building up in me, and I knew in my guts that there wouldn’t be a way out of my madness if I didn’t find a goal strong enough to not turn into a full-blown emotionless robot. I had started therapy, I had talks with my brothers at the club, but still, I was lacking the motivation. Something, or…someone.
And this someone appears to be a woman. Usually I find girls I like and stalk them. I rather do that because who in their right mind would ever want to be with me? Then I offer themgiftson their doorstep, and well, that’s usually when I have to stop ‘cause that’s when I get a slap in the face. But this one is different. Usually I go for girls of my world: strippers, barmaids, chicks who know what they’re getting into with bikers like us. But this time, she couldn't be farther from my world. Ten months ago, I was at the gas station, putting fuel into my bike, when another car parked at the pump next to mine. Family car, kid in the backseat, nothing special about it.
Until I sawher.
Mid-length chestnut hair, small figure and brown eyes, with fuller lips than I had ever seen. She had a pair of jeans hugging her in all the right places and a small red T-shirt showing off her belly button. The hair on the back of my head rose as I watched her move with grace and efficiency while checking on her kid at the same time. There was something about her I couldn't put my finger on. So I followed her. And I kept doing it for months.
After talking to my VP and Prez about it, I stopped for a while, thinking I was jeopardizing the peace of this woman. But after six months of staying away, I had to come back and watch her from afar. Never too close. Never close enough that she’d be afraid for her safety. I didn’t want that, ever. I just needed to watch her, get my fix like a drug addict. Once per week, that wasmy rule. But it all changed today when I saw this guy enter her house. I knew instantly that something was off. So I stepped out of my shadows and came to check on her.
LANA
Groceries are done, cleaning too. You just got one more round of laundry, and I think that’s it. Great. Girl, you did it, and in under two hours.
Nancy would roll her eyes at my daily to-do lists and time management apps I use religiously but that’s the only way I found to make it all work. When you’re a single mom with a four-year-old and a full time job, everything needs to be written on the kitchen wall’s white board. I fall gracelessly on my gray couch, lifting my feet on the living-room round table.
I love this place.
Myplace.
With all the little knick knacks Ben never let me display before. I bought a lot of plants, like a lot. Especially tropical ones, not that it fits with Knoxville weather, but I don’t mind. I’ll try to keep them alive as long as I can. After watching a few YouTube tutorials, I figured out how to install wooden shelves next to the window. It wasn’t as hard as my ex-husband used to make it out to be. Three shelves filled with books, frames of Noah and me, and rocks he found in the forest on our last walk. I sink in the soft pink and purple cushions and think of my little man with a smile.
