Page 14 of Viper's Salvation
"Been better," she admits. "But I've had worse too."
That catches my attention. "Before the Vultures MC?"
She nods, taking a sip of water. "Foster care wasn't always... kind. Especially when Kelly and I got separated. Some homes were good, others..." She trails off, and I fill in the blanks.
"That why you're so protective of her? Because you couldn't always be there?"
Amy's expression softens. "She's all I have. All I've ever really had. Our parents dumped us at different orphanages when I was seven and she was five. Took me six months to find her. After that, I promised myself I'd always keep her safe." She laughs bitterly. "Did a great job of that, didn't I? Leading her straight to the Vultures MC."
"You survived," I say firmly. "Both of you. That counts for a lot."
"Did you kill Charles?”
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Reaper did."
"And you? Have you killed people?"
I consider lying, sugarcoating it, but again decide she deserves honesty. "Yes."
She nods, absorbing this. "Does it get easier?"
"No," I confess. "And it shouldn't. The day it gets easy is the day you become something you can't come back from."
"But you don't regret it."
"Not when it's necessary. Not when it's to protect people who can't protect themselves." I lean against the counter, watching her. "The world isn't black and white, Amy. Sometimes the worst things are done by men with badges, and sometimes the right thing is done by men with cuts."
She finishes her sandwich, considering my words. "What did you do before all this?" she asks suddenly. "Before the MC."
The question catches me off guard. No one asks about our pasts here. It's an unwritten rule. What matters is who we are now, not who we were before the club.
"Worked with my hands," I say vaguely. "Always been good with machines."
"That explains the bikes," she says. "Kelly mentioned you take care of everyone's motorcycles."
I nod, relieved she doesn't push further. My past—my father's murder, my abandoned dreams—isn't something I talk about. Ever. "Been doing it since I joined. Comes naturally."
She takes her pain pill, washing it down with the last of her water. When she tries to stand, she winces, her hand going to her ribs.
"Let me help you back to your room," I say, moving around the counter. This time I don't ask, just offer my arm.
After a moment's hesitation, she takes it, allowing me to support some of her weight as we walk. She's warm against my side, and despite the bruises, despite everything, I find myself wanting to pull her closer.
Dangerous thoughts.
When we reach her door, she releases my arm and turns to face me. "Thank you. For the sandwich and... everything else."
"No problem." I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. "Try to get some sleep. Things will look clearer in the morning."
She smiles faintly. "Will they? Nothing's felt clear to me in months."
"It will," I promise, though I have no right to make such guarantees. "And if you need anything during the night,anything at all, I'm in the third room on the left in the west wing."
She nods, her hand on the doorknob. "Goodnight, Viper."
"Goodnight, Amy."
She slips into her room, and I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at her closed door. What the fuck is happening to me? I've never reacted to a woman like this before, especially not one I just met, and definitely not one in her situation.
