Page 43 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

THOR

The last time I walked through these doors over a week ago, I was a dead man. Now, I'm drinking to the memory of the bastards who tried to kill me.

Poetic fucking justice.

Bass thumps through the Vegas chapter's clubhouse, vibrating under my boots as I lean against the bar, nursing my third whiskey of the night.

The place is packed—brothers from my chapter mingling with the Black Hoods, everyone riding the high that comes after surviving a war.

Cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air, curling around the neon beer signs and casting everything in a hazy glow.

“To family,” Raze bellows, raising his glass high. The room erupts in a chorus of agreement, fists clenched as everyone drinks.

“Drink?” Charlotte appears at my side, sliding a whiskey into my hand. Her fingers brush mine, warm and alive. The bruises on her face have faded to yellowish shadows, but I still catch her wincing when she thinks I'm not looking.

“Thanks.” I knock it back in one swallow, welcoming the familiar burn. “You good?”

“Better than I expected. Turns out watching your abusive ex bleed out is better than therapy.”

I can't help the laugh that rumbles from my chest. “Don't let Presley hear you say that. She'll have you on her couch before you can blink.”

“Pretty sure V's wife has enough clients without adding the girlfriend of a road captain to her list.” Charlotte's smile is small but genuine.

I scan the room for V, spotting him in the corner booth, arm still in a sling as he leans in close to his wife. Despite everything, he looks happy—alive and whole with his family. It's more than we could have hoped for after finding him half-dead in that warehouse.

“Speaking of therapy,” I nod toward Ratchet, who's currently showing off his neck scar to an impressed crowd of Black Hoods prospects. “Think he'll ever shut up about his battle wound?”

“Not a chance. I overheard him telling some girl it was from a knife fight with three rival club members.” Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Did that really happen?”

“No, but let him have his moment,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist. She tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing against me.

I notice Raze disengaging from a group of patched members, his expression shifting from celebratory to something more serious. His eyes find mine across the room, and he gives me a subtle nod toward the hallway leading to the chapel. This isn't a social invitation—it's business.

“You okay for a minute?” I ask Charlotte.

She follows my line of sight to Raze's retreating back. “Club business?”

“Probably. Won't be long.”

“I'll be fine.”

I scan the room, spotting Ratchet by the pool table. “Hey, Ratchet!” I call out, waving him over. “Keep the lady company. And try not to bore her with that bullshit knife fight story.”

Ratchet flips me off but makes his way toward us, drink in hand. “My pleasure. Besides, I haven't told her about the time I took out a helicopter with nothing but a handgun and my winning smile.”

Charlotte laughs, the sound warming something cold inside me. “Go,” she says, pushing gently at my chest. “I'll be fine with Rambo here.”

I press a quick kiss to her temple before following Raze's path.

The noise of the party fades as I move down the hallway, replaced by the muffled sound of serious conversation behind the chapel door.

When I push it open, I find Raze seated at the head of the long wooden table, and Hero standing near the back wall with his arms crossed.

“Thor,” Raze nods as I close the door behind me. “Take a seat.”

I settle into the chair beside him, noting the serious expressions around the table. “What's the situation?”

“Vegas chapter is completely disbanded,” Hero says. “What's left of their territory needs to be handled. Can't leave a power vacuum in a city like this.”

“And the properties?” I ask, already knowing this conversation was coming.

“Clubhouse, safe houses, legitimate businesses—all of it needs new management.” Raze slides a folder across the table. “Mother chapter is considering establishing a permanent presence here. Someone needs to oversee the transition.”

I open the folder, scanning the documents inside. Property deeds, business licenses, bank statements—the entire infrastructure of what used to be the Vegas chapter laid out in black and white. The numbers are staggering.

“You're talking about a full charter,” I say, looking up from the papers. “Not just cleanup.”

“Exactly.” Hero pushes off from the wall, moving to lean against the table. “A city this size, with this much potential? It's too valuable to abandon.”

“Who's running it?”

The two men exchange glances, and I feel their collective stare. Raze clears his throat, leaning forward in his chair.

“We want you,” he says simply. “You and Charlotte to make Vegas your home base.”

“Me? Run a chapter?”

“You've earned it,” Hero interjects. “What you did here, how you handled the situation with Roberts—that's leadership material.”

I shake my head, pushing back from the table. “I'm a road captain. That's where I belong.”

“You were road captain,” Raze corrects. “Now you're something else. Something more.” He taps the folder with one thick finger. “This city needs someone who understands what it means to protect people. Someone who won't let power corrupt them.”

“And Charlotte?”

“She's already proven she can handle this life,” Hero says. “A woman who can slit her abuser's throat and walk away clean? That's old lady material right there.”

The casual way he says it makes my chest tighten. Charlotte's strength isn't something to be celebrated—it's something that was forged in hell, tempered by pain she should never have endured.

“She's been through enough. She doesn't need the stress of running a chapter.”

“She doesn't need it,” Raze agrees. “But she might want it. You should talk to her.”

The truth is, I've been so focused on protecting Charlotte from the aftermath of Terrance that I haven't considered what she might want beyond safety. The assumption sits heavy in my gut—another man making decisions for her, even with good intentions. I can’t do that to her. Now or ever.

I lean back in my chair. It's everything I've worked for in the club—recognition, power, my own chapter. The kind of opportunity that doesn't come twice.

“I'm honored. Truly. But I can't accept.”

Raze's eyebrows shoot up. “Can't or won't?”

“Both.” I close the folder, sliding it back across the table. “Vegas is nothing but trauma for Charlotte. Every street corner, every building—it all reminds her of what happened here.”

“She's stronger than you think,” Hero argues. “Stronger than most men I know.”

“It's not about strength. It's about what she deserves after everything she's been through. And that's not spending the rest of her life in the city where her nightmares were born.”

“And what about what you deserve, son? You've earned this.”

I shake my head. “The club has given me purpose for a long time. Structure when I needed it, family when I had none. But I think my purpose lies elsewhere now.”

“With her,” Raze says. Not a question.

“With her,” I confirm. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere she can heal without looking over her shoulder. Somewhere we can build something that isn't marked with so much blood.”

Hero pushes off the table, his massive frame blocking the light overhead as he steps closer. “Think about what you're walking away from, brother. Vegas could be rebuilt in your image. Clean. Profitable. The kind of charter that makes a difference.”

“I know exactly what I'm walking away from, and I know what I'm walking toward.”

“At least sleep on it,” Hero persists. “This opportunity won't come around again. Charlotte might even want this—the security, the power. After everything she's been through, having an entire chapter at her back might be exactly what she needs.”

I shake my head, the decision already made. “My answer will be the same tomorrow as it is today.”

Raze watches our exchange before leaning forward, elbows on the table. “So, what then? You turning in your cut? Walking away completely?”

The question hits harder than I expected. My cut has been a second skin for so long that the thought of surrendering it sends a physical ache through my chest.

“No,” I say firmly. “I'd like to go nomad.”

Surprise flickers across Raze's weathered face. “Nomad? That's a hard road, Thor.”

“It's the right one.” I straighten my shoulders, conviction burning through any doubt. “There may come a day when Charlotte is ready and I can come fully back, but until that day happens, nomad makes the most sense.”

Raze stares at me for a long beat. Finally, he nods once.

“Nomad it is, then. You'll keep your patch, but no home charter. Free to move as needed.” He extends his hand across the table. “The club will always have your back, brother. Wherever you land.”

I grip his hand firmly, the tension in my chest easing. “Thank you, Prez.”

“Don't thank me yet,” Raze warns. “Paperwork's a bitch. And you'll need to check in regularly. This isn't retirement—it's redeployment.”

“Understood.”

Hero claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “For what it's worth, I think you're making the right call. Women like that doesn't come along twice in a lifetime.”

“I know.”

“I owe you both more than I can ever repay. What you did for Charlotte, for me...coming in guns blazing when you had every reason to write us off—that's brotherhood in its purest form.”

Raze waves off my gratitude with a gruff noise. “Family takes care of family. Nothing more to it.”

“Still,” I insist, “you saved her life. Saved mine too. That's a debt I'll carry proudly.”

Hero's massive hand squeezes my shoulder. “Just be happy, brother. That's payment enough.”