Page 22 of Blade's Return
Outside, the air’s cool and damp. I lock the door and step out into the night fully. I stand for a moment, staring at her kitchen window. The house is small, quiet, and full of everything I never thought I’d want—warmth, safety, and a feeling of home. Maybe Bear was right.
Maybe I can’t have both—the club and Olivia. I love my brothers. I love the Saints. They’re my blood, my loyalty, my purpose. But I love her, too. Hell, it’s only been two weeks, but I know it in my bones. She’s it for me. On the other hand, I fucking know that if I pick Olivia over them, I’ll start to resent her. I’ll look at her one day and see everything I gave up. If I pick the club, I’ll lose her for good. Will I regret that choice just as much?
There’s no version of this that feels right. I can’t seem to breathe freely—air refuses to leave my lungs. I get into my car, slam the door, and grip the wheel until my knuckles ache. My reflection in the rearview mirror stares back at me. A man without hope, hard eyes, clenched jaw … A man torn in half.
“Fuck!” The shout rips out of me, raw and loud, followed by the slap of my palm against the steering wheel. I back the car out way too quickly. My tires crunch into the gravel, headlights cutting through the dark as I pull onto the main road.
I feel hollow. Lost. Completely lost. I have to fix this somehow. I have to get her to understand.
Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her. I’ll figure out why she’s so damned against the club, why she doesn’t want me part of the club. Tonight, I’ve got to let her breathe. I need time to get under control, because I know if I go back in there right now, I’m going to say something I can’t take back and lose her forever—and doing that will destroy me.
Fucking hell, this is a mess.
12 BEAR
The house is quiet except for the ceiling fan overhead, which is making a gentle roar. It blends with Ayita’s soft breathing beside me. She’s asleep—peaceful, beautiful, the kind of woman a man should be grateful for. I feel guilty about that. Most nights my guilt keeps me awake. That’s not the reason tonight. No, that honor has to do with my baby brother.
Blade.
My brother’s falling for Olivia Davis, and he doesn’t have a damn clue what he’s walking into. He sees a gentle woman with a smile that lights up the world, but I see the ghosts that follow her. The kind that never stops whispering. And I can’t warn him. It’s just impossible. Her story is not mine to tell. She trusted me once when no one else did, and I gave her my word to keep everything she told me silent. I would be her safe place—something she desperately needed then and now. After everything she’s survived, I’d die before I would break my promise to her.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The memory of her hits me like it always does—like a deadly punch I don’t see coming. There’s no way to dodge it. Christ, it has been years, and I can still feel the pleasure and pain like it’s happening for the first time.
I told Blade that I had met Olivia when she saved my life. That—at least—was the truth. We held each other for three days, while both of us recovered from the hits Eyeball and his crew delivered. In those three days, she told me about her connection to the Feral Kings, the pain she had endured because of them. Poured out words that were pulled from her soul, revealing scars I couldn’t see. I knew these were so deep they’d never leave her. Hell, it doesn’t take a genius to know she’s still struggling with them today—that’s why I wanted to warn Blade.
When she revealed that my worst enemy was actually her fucking brother, it hit me like a ton of bricks. If it weren’t so fucking twisted, I’d have laughed at the irony. Of all the places I could escape to, that bastard’s sister would have been the last choice—and yet those three days were the closest I’ve ever been to heaven in my life. After she poured her heart out to me, I told her about Mavis, and the helplessness I felt at not being able to save her. How I couldn’t seem to give up on her until I saw what she had reduced herself to at Eyeball’s club.
It was stolen time. Time in which she had a neighbor check in on her dad and together we hid away inside the small community center—which had been closed for months. We talked, she cooked small meals from the supplies she brought back with her but most of all, we just spent time together. It was the best three days of my entire fucking life, but by the third day, I knew I could ride my bike home. I needed to get back to the club and she needed to stay away from me—to be safe.
It's not what I wanted at all. I wanted to call in our allies and do away with Eyeball completely. I knew that it was a war I couldn’t win. We hadn’t been set up long enough to do that. I felt my brothers and I were building something that could be strong and special, but we weren’t there yet. I also couldn’t tell the club the real reason for the war would be to avenge a woman I barely knew—a woman whose brother led our enemy. I also couldn’t do what I truly wanted and that was claim Olivia as my old lady. I knew that was hopeless. The pain and scars she bore made bringing her into my world impossible. Olivia was like a butterfly. She had strength enough to fly the world spreading beauty, but was so incredibly delicate that the slightest of touches could be fatal.
So, I didn’t even try.
Adversely, if I told the men that the reason for our war was about Mavis—God, I don’t even want to know the pitying looks I’d receive or the bullshit lectures. No, my hands were tied. Olivia and I could never be.
We slept together—fully clothed—for three days. We hugged often, but that was it. It was all I could allow myself, because I knew if I gave into what I wanted—and what she seemed to want just as much—I’d be lost. I had to keep Olivia safe, so I walked away. Telling her that for her safety we should keep our distance. I could see the hurt in her eyes, but she nodded her agreement and that was it.
For two years, I held fast to that. I began seeing Ayita—never forgetting the woman who somehow stole my heart. A woman I could never have. I thought that was the end of it. Then, one day, I came across Olivia completely by accident. It was one of those random, nothing days that end up changing everything. Hangman’s sister had roped us into a community fundraiser for the kids over in the federal housing complex. There were food booths, yard sales, face painting, and game stations. The whole thing was about getting school supplies and winter coats for the children. I didn’t expect to stay long. Hell, I was still half-drunk from the night before. But then I saw her.
Livy was standing behind a folding table stacked with cookies in plastic wrap. Her honeyed hair pulled back in a ponytail, nervous hands smoothing the tablecloth. She was skittish as a deer, and the second she spotted me, I could see wariness in her gaze.
It hurt more than I’d admit.
I cracked a joke about Hangman’s ugly mug, and she smiled. That smile made me breathe easy for the first time in two years—the amount of time I’d spent away from her. I bought three dozen cookies just to keep her talking. “Cowboy cookies,” she’d called them—oats, coconut, chocolate, pecans. I took one bite and swear to God, I fell in love with the cookie, but knew my feelings from those faraway days in that community center had never disappeared.
When Cara—Hangman’s sister—asked her if she’d taken a break to eat and Olivia admitted she hadn’t, I asked her to grab lunch with me across the street. She hesitated but smiled—one that filled me with warmth—and agreed.
We sat in a booth at the Subway, of all damn places, and talked like we’d known each other for years. It was easy. Her voice calmed something inside me that hadn’t been still since Mavis tore my heart out. I asked to see her again and she didn’t even think. She just agreed.
For the next month, we met there five days a week. I didn’t tell anyone. Not the club, not my brother in New York, not even Hangman. Those lunches were my peace—an hour in the middle of chaos where I could breathe. Olivia listened. She laughed. We became so close that I hated being away from her. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t about need. It was about grace.
At least at first.
Being with Olivia was the first time I’d felt clean in years. She helped me decide to get the club clean. No more running guns, no more smuggling. We’d rebuild the club into something worth being proud of. I felt re-energized and luckily, most of the brothers agreed. Only Ranger grumbled, whispering to anyone who’d listen that I’d gone soft.
It was Olivia who gave me the idea for Saints Concrete Company. She encouraged me to build something real, something that gave back to the community. Her contacts in the city opened doors for us, and before long we were laying foundations in five towns, bidding on contracts, proving everyone wrong.
She did that for us—and no one but me truly knew. Well, I think Hangman suspected. He saw me having lunch with her once in a while, but he never said a thing. The truth is the club owes her everything.
