Page 36 of Just Heartbeats (Royalla Motorcycle Club #1)

The old grist mill, long abandoned and harboring secrets of previous Royalla crimes, reeked of decay. Kodiak's adrenaline spiked. The hunt for Nate was over. It was only fitting they tracked him here.

He motioned for Cruz to stay with the others and stepped out of the shadows, boots scraping gravel.

As soon as he rounded the corner where Nate had parked his motorcycle, he slowed his step. The door was open.

He moved quietly, slipping inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. Moving forward, he scanned the room, finding Nate sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

Nate raised his head, his gaze darted side to side, looking for a way to escape. But his run had ended. Kodiak and the other riders had him surrounded.

"You fucked up." Kodiak widened his stance. "You betrayed the club and took my woman. It's almost like you had a death wish."

Nate held up his hands. "I had no choice. I owed Deception. They were turning my ass over to the Feds and framing me for killing Tusany. Th-they told me if I gave them Roma, I'd walk free."

"Who told you that?" Kodiak growled.

"Curt Morgan and PJ, th-the one I gave Roma to."

Unknown to Nate, both of those men were now dead, and Roma was safe. But even when they were alive, they were half-baked with not enough brain cells between the two of them. Nate could've gotten rid of them and stopped the threat against his life. Instead, he played right into their hands.

Nate still wore a Royalla patch, despite knowing what he'd done. Rage swelled inside him at the disregard for the brotherhood. The rules were there to keep them all safe and free. Each member watched their brother's back. Nate purposely ignored the bylaws.

He'd already killed Curt as payback for Chopper's murder. PJ was eliminated. He'd gotten rid of the threat toward Roma. There was only one more loose end he had to take care of.

"So, you sold her for a debt to save your ass." He fisted his hands. "Curtis Morgan had already killed Chopper." He shook his head. "If you had succeeded, you would've ended up getting Roma killed."

Nate said nothing, only dropped his chin to his chest. He understood his betrayal and knew how Royalla dealt with a rat that turned on the club.

His crime was unforgiveable.

Kodiak's fist landed hard, sending Nate sprawling. No ceremony, no mercy—just blow after blow until the gravel ran red. There was no forgiveness left to give. Nobody touched his woman. Nobody turned their back on the club.

When it was over, Kodiak stood over what was left of a traitor and breathed in the quiet. Punishment was given. Roma was safe. The club was secure.

"Cruz," he said without turning. "Take his Royalla patch."

Cruz knelt beside Nate and whipped out his knife. "We'll clean up here, Prez. Go back and take care of yourself."

Kodiak waited until the job was done and held out his hand. Only when he had the Royalla patch did he walk away from the mill and get on his Harley. He rode back, the patch tucked into his pocket like a promise kept.

As he rode, he wondered how Geiser would've handled Nate. He missed the old man. His dad had a heavy hand and kept Royalla members in line, but he'd also started with young men, raising them to become the loyal bikers he needed to run a motorcycle club.

He could've used his dad's advice. Losing one man wouldn't cripple the club. But losing a member because he'd turned on Royalla would affect them all. He'd have to regain the confidence of his men as he moved forward.

At the clubhouse, a few of the guys looked up at his arrival. No one said a word, but there was a shift in their attention. He'd hand over the information on Nate later and explain how he handed down the judgment.

He went straight to the kitchen and stuck his head under the faucet. Baker appeared beside him, pouring soap over his beaten hands. He washed until there was no blood remaining and then let Baker guide him to the stool while his MC brother checked all the scrapes and bruising on his fingers.

Afterward, Baker retrieved a whiskey and handed it straight to Kodiak.

He took the whole bottle and entered the main room, dropping into his usual chair.

Maybe it'd be better if he'd never claimed Roma as his old lady.

If she could break away from Royalla, she'd stand a chance of walking away from the danger surrounding the club.

But even as he thought it, he refused to let her go. Hell, he couldn't picture life without her. He wanted her by his side. Royalla was her home. But he needed to make the club safer for her.

His Roma. He tipped back the bottle, feeling the eyes in the room on him. They waited for news. News he wanted buried.

The patch Cruz cut from Nate's leather remained in his pocket. A reminder of how he'd failed.

A Royalla brother. One of his own.

His rage had turned to disappointment. Betrayal from the outside was expected. He could take a hit from an enemy and ride on. But from inside the brotherhood? From someone who stood beside him wearing the same patch?

Nah, that fucking wound wouldn't scab over. It festered.

He took a swig of whiskey. The fire slid down his throat as he turned over everything in his mind. There were missed signs. The quiet look Nate gave Roma hadn't gone unnoticed. He'd seen them and ignored them. Loyalty was supposed to mean something. Brotherhood. Fool.

Royalla meant something. It had to. Otherwise, what the hell were they even fighting for?

He enforced the bylaws tonight when he killed Nate. Because if the president bent, the club would break.

There was no room for doubt anymore. He'd shown the rest that he wouldn't tolerate betrayal—not to the club, not to him, and sure as hell not when it came to Roma.

He sighed loudly, exhaustion hitting him low. Leadership didn't come easily. There were choices. Consequences.

Kodiak leaned forward and braced the bottle between his knees. "This is what happens," he murmured to no one. "You betray the patch, and you die."

The burn in his chest refused to fade.

A door slammed, drawing the attention of every man in the room. Cruz and the others had made it back. He met his V.P.'s gaze. His face was drawn and tight. No one said a word, but everyone knew.

He set the whiskey down and walked to the meeting room. The others filed in behind him.

"Sit," ordered Kodiak.

The officers sat at the table. The others stood behind them. All members waited in silence.

"Nate confessed," he said. "He gave Roma to Deception Motorcycle Club. Sold her out like she was nothing."

Hunter and Rocco shifted in the chairs. Looks of disbelief flashed around the table, but no one questioned him.

"Each of us has read and signed the bylaws. This club runs on loyalty and brotherhood." His eyes raked across every man at that table. "He swore on the patch, like each of you. He understood the punishment if he betrayed Royalla. As president, I dealt the punishment."

Nobody challenged him.

But then someone shifted near the door, and his gaze snagged on Roma, half in shadow, hands gripping the doorframe, chin raised. Despite knowing she couldn't and wouldn't cross the barrier into the room during a meeting, she'd heard every word.

His chest cracked open. He assumed she'd be asleep.

He intended to keep her out of club business. To shield her from the filth, the choices, the crimes. But tonight, the line between his world and hers blurred.

Her eyes weren't angry. Worse—she looked haunted.

What could he say? That he'd done it for her? That it had to be done? That he looked forward to killing Nate?

He turned his attention back to those around the table. "If any of you are unsure where your loyalties stand, now's the time to speak."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Roma turn and disappear in the hallway. The silence from the Royalla members should've reassured him of their position, but his heart still echoed in his chest.

Kodiak should've gone after her. But club business came first.

Having grown up within Royalla, Roma understood that he'd killed Nate. She understood much more than anyone gave her credit for.