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The fluorescent lights of the hospital room buzzed faintly, a low hum that didn’t do anything to ease the tension in the air. Quill was lying in the bed, looking pale as hell, a stark contrast to his usual self. An IV snaked out of his arm, the machine beside him beeping steadily.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall, my jaw tight. Rune sat in a chair by the window, bouncing his leg, and March stood near the foot of the bed, his face as unreadable as ever.

“What the hell happened, Quill?” I finally asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Quill blinked up at me, his expression sheepish, like he was a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. The door swung open before he could answer, and a doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. He looked around the room, clearly sizing up the crowd of leather-clad bikers before clearing his throat.

“Mr. Seddon is stable now,” the doctor said, glancing at the chart. “But he had a severe hypoglycemic episode due to missing his insulin. If those young women hadn’t brought him in when they did, we’d be having a very different conversation.”

I straightened, my brows pulling together. “Insulin?”

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed, looking between us. “He’s diabetic.”

“Fuck me,” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I meant. I turned to Quill, my voice dropping. “You’re diabetic?”

Quill winced, his eyes darting to the doctor like he wished he could disappear. “Yeah... I mean, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Rune echoed, his tone sharp. “You’re lying in a hospital bed because you didn’t have your damn insulin. That’s your idea of not a big deal?”

Quill sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s what I forgot to grab before we left. Dime said if I went back…”

“Jesus, Quill,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face because now I felt like a fucking asshole. If I wanted to be the president of this club, I needed to stop letting bullshit like my hatred for Dime get in the way of me giving a damn about my men.

The doctor cleared his throat again. “We’ll make sure he gets everything he needs before discharge. But I’d recommend having a serious conversation about managing this condition. It’s not something to take lightly.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” Rune finally asked, his voice low but firm.

Quill shrugged, avoiding our gazes. “Thought I could handle it.” Quill shifted, wincing as he adjusted himself against the pillows. “But if it weren’t for those two girls who found me when I passed out...”

“They’re still here if you’d like to thank them. They’re in a room just down the hall,” the doctor said as he flipped through his notes. “Calli and Shay. Shay’s a nurse, which was extremely helpful in getting him in here on time.”

The name hit me like a sucker punch, my entire body tensing.

“Calli?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.

Rune’s eyes darted to mine, his expression guarded. “The Calli?”

He was the only one who knew.

The only one I’d trusted to tell the truth about the woman who nearly destroyed me.

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna fucking find out.” Unfortunately, hearing her name was all I needed, like a red flag to a fucking bull.

I was already out the door before anyone could stop me, my eyes searching from one door to the next down the hall.

I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing.

I shouldn’t have given a shit that she was there. It shouldn’t fucking matter. It’s not like it’d been ten fucking years since I’d seen her. Since she’d taken her knife and placed it right between my goddamn shoulder blades.

It’s not like this chunk of my soul just needed to see her.

To see how she’d changed.

Whether she’d softened.

Or if she was still that beautiful, smart-mouthed bitch I fell in love with.

I slammed my palm against the final door, sending it flying and slamming back against the wall with a hard thump. Her body jumped, her beautiful long blonde hair flying around her shoulders as she spun toward me. She was standing at the window, the city lights sparkling in the distance behind her.

“Excuse me,” another voice protested, my eyes drawn to another girl sitting at the edge of one of the beds. She was short, had a heavy frown, and began moving protectively toward Calli. “I think you should leave before I call someone to remove you.”

Her eyes moved.

Flicking to the front of my club cut before widening just slightly.

“So, the princess is fucking back,” I growled, meeting Calli’s silent gaze and trying to fight the fucking sinking in my stomach. Even after all this goddamn time, my body ached to reach out and touch her. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I have just as much right to be here as you do,” she announced, but that strength was gone. Her voice was soft, it didn’t hold the confidence I was expecting. “But it’s fine, we’ll get out of here and give you some space.”

“Guess that’s what you’re good at, huh? Running away.”

“Hey!”

Calli held her arm out, halting her friend’s attempted protest. “It’s fine. Let him have his say,” she responded loudly, standing a little taller, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “You feel better now, Mason?”

Mason.

Jesus, it had been a long time since anyone called me that.

“You feel good now you’ve got your cheap little jab in? Yeah?” she taunted, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her. She didn’t even give me the opportunity to respond. “Good. I’m glad. Now get the fuck out.”

The corner of my mouth curled up.

Oh, there she is.

I took a step forward.

I wanted to show her, wanted to fucking punish her for that sassy mouth that I’d fallen for so many fucking years ago. She knew better than to speak to me like that and not find her damn ass red.

But before I could move, the voice behind me had my body freezing.

“You heard her. Get the fuck out.”

Slowly, I turned to face him.

Bishop.

Calli’s father.

We’d met briefly before but not in any formal kind of capacity, just a few tense interactions between our clubs as we’d passed by each other. He was leaning against the doorframe to the hospital room, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place. Tattoos snaked down his forearms, his dark eyes burning into mine with calm authority. He didn’t know me—not really—but his stance said it all.

He didn’t need to know me to rip my head off if need be to protect his daughter.

“Mason,” Calli said, her tone sharp and cutting through the tension like a blade. My name on her lips was both a command and a plea, yanking my gaze straight to hers. “Go. Please.”

Something in her eyes stopped me cold—pleading, raw, and unguarded. It wasn’t anger or defiance like I’d braced myself for. It was something far worse.

It was like I could feel her hand reaching into my chest and grabbing hold of what was left of my heart.

And dammit, if I didn’t want to let her.

I swallowed hard, my jaw clenching as I fought the instinct to push back, demand answers, and shake her until she told me why the hell she was still holding that kind of power over me. But her eyes stayed locked on mine, and I knew I wouldn’t win this one.

Not here.

Not now.

Forcing a step back, I tilted my head toward Bishop, who hadn’t moved an inch, his glare burning into me like a damn laser. “Guess this is my cue,” I muttered, my voice rougher than intended.

“Good choice,” Bishop replied, his tone flat but full of unspoken threats.

I gave Calli one last look, letting her see everything I couldn’t say—everything I wasn’t ready to let go of yet. “This isn’t over,” I murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she didn’t respond, but her fingers curled around the edges of her jacket, holding on like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

I turned and walked out, every step feeling heavier than the last. Behind me, the silence stretched taut, but I didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

Not yet.