Page 15

FOURTEEN

DREW

Brazen enough to believe in it

Axel’s leaning against the bar, arms crossed, eyes like razors as I walk across the floor of the clubhouse. He’s got a bottle in his hand, swinging it low by his thigh, half-empty. The club’s quiet now—too damn quiet for my liking.

Frankie’s gone.

Cambria’s safe.

Salentino’s at war with Javier Almanza across the border, his empire crumbling day by day if the word on the street is right. We’ve had a handful of close calls, but the Hellions are holding strong. The club’s as solid as it’s ever been.

But this—this silence with my brother—feels like something’s coiled tight in the air, ready to strike. It’s a tension I know better than to ignore. The last time Axel looked at me this way, I was seventeen, and he was about to teach me what it meant to be a Hellion. Back then, I was angry and wild and burning for a fight. Now? I know better. Or at least, I hope I do.

Axel jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Prez’s office.”

I nod, no questions. I follow him, boots echoing in the long hallway, every step heavier than the last. The door creaks when I push it open, the old hinges whining in protest. Axel shuts it behind us with a click so solid it might as well be a gun cocking.

He doesn’t talk right away. Just paces in a slow, tight circle before stopping and resting against the edge of the desk, arms still crossed, eyes pinning me in place. There’s something brewing behind them, a storm, maybe. Or just the weight of years we haven’t talked about.

“You did right,” he says finally, voice low.

I blink. “Sorry?”

He huffs, a laugh with no humor. “You heard me.”

I lean back against the wall, arms crossed. “Just makin’ sure.”

He shakes his head. “You brought the situation with Cambria to the club. Didn’t act reckless, didn’t go off half-cocked like you used to. You could’ve tried to handle it on your own, but you didn’t. That’s what a man does, take it to his brothers. That’s what a brother does, leans in on the club.”

I shrug, looking down at the floor. “I couldn’t risk her safety. I ain’t losin’ her.”

He nods, the motion slow and thoughtful. “That’s the point. You knew this wasn’t a fight you win with just your fists. You brought it to the table. Like a man. Like a brother I’d want watchin’ my back.”

Those words hit me harder than a fist. Axel’s never been the type to hand out praise, especially not to me. Most of my life I’ve been in his shadow, Shooter’s son, Axel’s kid brother. Never quite enough. Always trying to prove I belong.

“Means a lot, man,” I express, my voice rougher than I want.

He pushes off the desk, stepping closer. “It should. Took you long enough to stop runnin’ from your damn legacy and start ownin’ it.”

I meet his eyes. “I didn’t wanna ride on Dad’s name. Or yours.”

“You didn’t.” He pauses, and I watch him struggle to find the words. “You got something special, Little Foot. A fire. Stronger than any of us. Just hadn’t learned to contain it when necessary. But you’ve matured. You control the fire. You’re carvin’ your own road now.”

And damn if that doesn’t settle something in my chest I didn’t even know was loose. I stand there, soaking in the truth of it, the relief of finally being seen for who I am, not who I’m supposed to be.

I nod once. “Thanks, Axel.”

He claps my shoulder—a gesture that means more than it should. “Don’t fuck it up now.”

I grin. “I’ll try not to.”

We step out of the office, and the noise of the club rushes back in. Laughter, music, the clink of glasses. It’s a good sound.

One I never want to lose.

Out behind the compound, Cambria’s barefoot in the grass, laughing with Yesnia and Laura. She’s got her head thrown back, that sharp, wild laugh of hers cutting across the yard like a song. She’s holding a lemonade bottle, rarely beer, even though no one cares she’s underage. She’s waving her hands in the air, animated as hell, telling some story that has both women in stitches.

She spots me over Laura’s shoulder and waves, breaking away from the girls with a grin. She jogs across the yard, her feet leaving damp prints on the grass.

“You look serious,” she says, arms sliding around my waist, her face tipped up to mine. “Good or bad?”

“Good, I think.” I wrap her tight against me, burying my nose in her hair. She always smells like vanilla and sunlight, and something that hits me straight in the chest—home.

“Axel?” she asks, voice soft.

I nod. “He sees it now.”

Her smile turns shy, a little unsure. “Sees us?”

“Sees me. But yeah, us too.”

Relief flickers in her eyes. For so long, she’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop—for someone to tell her she doesn’t belong. But now, for the first time, I see her believe that she does.

I kiss her, slow and certain. She melts against me, and the rest of the club, the drama, the history, it all falls away. There’s only us, right here, in the warm light of afternoon.

The next morning, I find Toon in the garage. Something’s off with him. He’s working on a busted carburetor, sleeves pushed up, grease deep in the tattoos on his forearms. He’s wrenching down on a bolt like it personally insulted his mother.

“You gonna break it or fix it?” I joke, grinning.

He looks up, sweat on his brow. “Can’t a man do both?”

“Not if you want it to run after.”

He snorts. “What’re you doin’ in here? Thought you’d be stuck to Cambria’s side like a barnacle.”

I shrug. “She’s with Yesnia. Figured I’d check on you. You been... quiet.”

He doesn’t look at me, just starts wiping his hands on a rag.

“I’m headin’ out soon.”

The words hang heavy in the air. My heart stumbles.

“Out?” I echo.

“Back to Haywood’s Landing.”

I swallow. “Shit. When?”

He shrugs. “Couple days.”

“You serious?”

He nods. “Tripp made the call. I ain’t happy about it. But sometimes the club’s gotta come first.”

My chest tightens. “This place won’t be the same without you.”

He finally meets my eyes, and there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “You don’t need me anymore, Little Foot. You got your place. Your girl. Your brothers. You found what you were lookin’ for.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t want to find it without you.”

He claps my shoulder, squeezing hard. “We ain’t dead, man. Just takin’ different rides for a while.”

I nod, throat tight. “Yeah, brother. Yeah, I get it.”

But it’s a lie. I don’t get it. Not really. I hate the thought of Toon gone. For years now, he’s been a fixture in my world. The guy who always had my back, who always kept things light even when the shit got thick. The clubhouse won’t sound the same without his laugh echoing through the halls.

That night, Cambria and I are tangled up in my bed, the trailer dim except for the flicker of a candle she lit on the nightstand. She’s curled on her side, one leg draped over mine, her fingers drawing slow circles on my chest.

“Toon told me he’s leaving,” I share, breaking the silence.

She lifts her head, eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Tripp called him back. Never heard of that happenin’ before. I’m sure there’s a reason. Somehow, it’s right. He’s doin’ the right thing. I just... shit. I hate goodbyes.”

She brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. “Then don’t say goodbye. Say ‘see you down the road.’”

I grin despite myself. “You get real poetic sometimes.”

She grins back, wide and bright. “Shut up. I’m tryin’ to comfort you.”

I roll her on top of me, hands sliding under her tank. “You always do. And I know how we can both be comforted right this second.”

She laughs, low and sweet, and I press my lips to hers, slow and deep. We get lost in each other, moving slow, the kind of love that blurs the line between bodies and souls. She whispers things against my skin—broken pieces of her past, her fears, her hopes. I catch every word, every tear, every tremor.

Afterward, we lie together, hearts still thudding, her head on my chest. The candle burns low, shadows dancing on the ceiling.

Toon leaves on a Sunday morning.

The sun’s barely up, mist hugging the grass, but every brother’s here, bikes lined up in the yard. There’s a weight to the air—a mix of pride, sorrow, and respect. Toon stands in the middle, his cut over his shoulder, helmet dangling from his fingers. Rex pulls him into a bear hug, Axel shakes his hand like he’s passing a torch. Even the prospects hang their heads, knowing something’s shifting.

Cambria slips her arm around my waist. I pull her close, grounding myself in her warmth.

Toon walks up, meeting my gaze head-on.

“You sure?” I ask, voice low so the others don’t hear.

He nods. “Gotta be.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Same, brother.” He hugs me—quick, rough, and real—then punches my shoulder hard enough to sting. “Take care of that girl.”

“Always.”

He slings a leg over his bike, throws on his helmet, and fires up the engine. The sound is thunderous, echoing through the yard. We watch him ride out, the sun glinting off his chrome until he’s just a memory and the wind.

The crowd disperses, brothers drifting back inside or to their bikes. Cambria and I stand for a moment, silent. The day feels emptier without Toon’s laughter, his swagger. But there’s something right about it, too. Like a chapter closing, making room for what comes next.

I take Cambria for a ride that afternoon. Just the two of us, no destination, no plan. The highway rolls out ahead of us like a promise. She wraps her arms around me tight, her head pressed to my back. The wind roars past, stealing every thought except the thrum of the engine and the warmth of her touch.

We end up at a lookout point we used to visit when I was a kid—before life got complicated, before clubs and wars and scars. The valley stretches below, all green and gold, the river winding through it like a piece of sky. Cambria climbs off the bike, walks to the edge, arms crossed against the breeze.

“I used to dream about views like this,” she says, her voice quiet.

I step behind her, wrap my arms around her waist. “You ever imagine you’d see it with a guy like me?”

She laughs, a soft sound. “Honestly? I didn’t think I’d survive long enough to see anything at all.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I am.”

We stand like that for a long time, watching the sun drift behind the hills, just holding on and breathing. No words needed. No future to plan. Just this moment, this peace.

Back at the trailer, she wears one of my shirts, legs tucked under her at the table, sipping coffee like she’s lived here forever. I watch her, amazed at how right it feels—how natural, how necessary.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” I say, sitting down across from her.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Uh oh.”

I grin. “Smartass.”

She smirks. “What’ve you been thinkin’?”

“I wanna make this real.”

“We have said it is already.” She sets the mug down, eyes wide. “Real? How much more real are you looking for?”

“We played pretend. We lied. Then we fell into somethin’ more than either of us planned for.”

She nods, a smile trembling on her lips.

I reach for her hand, callused fingers brushing hers. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Cambria. You showed me what I was missin’. Gave me family when I thought all I had was history.”

Her eyes shimmer, full of hope and fear and everything in between. “Drew...”

“You think maybe, someday soon... you’d wanna do this for real?”

She grins through her tears. “You gonna ask properly or just talk around it?”

I smirk. “Patience, woman. Barbecue’s comin’. Gotta make it count.”

She laughs, light and real and beautiful. “Then hell yes. I’m in.”

That night, after the sun sets and the club’s gone quiet, I sit outside on the steps of the trailer, Cambria beside me, our fingers entwined. The stars are bright overhead, the night air cool and clean. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I look over at her, the woman who changed everything, and I know—whatever comes, whoever tries to tear us down, we’ll face it together.

Because this? This is home. This is family. And I’m never letting her go.