Page 19

Demi

Every bump in the road sends a sharp pain radiating through my ribs, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I feel like my heart has been sliced open and I’m bleeding out. It hurts. God does it hurt.

Dad is dead.

The words echo in my head, but they don’t feel real.

“We’re here,” Pee Wee announces, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he pulls through the clubhouse gates.

Kenny shifts beside me in the backseat, her hand still pressed to her temple where Frankie struck her. “Thank God,” she mutters. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Pee Wee parks in front of the door, kills the engine, and jumps out. He rushes around to our side and opens the door “Let me help you, Princess,” he says, reaching for McKenna first with surprising care.

“Get your hands off me!” she snaps, then immediately winces and grabs her head. “Shit.”

Pee Wee holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Have it your way.” But when she sways on her feet after climbing out, he steadies her anyway, earning himself another death glare.

I don’t have the energy to fight when he turns to help me. My entire body feels like I’ve gone ten rounds in the ring. “Thanks.” I swipe my tongue across my split lip and wince.

“Welcome, darlin’. Let’s get you both checked out,” he says, and the unexpected gentleness in his voice nearly breaks me.

Hold it together, Demi. You can fall apart later.

Pee Wee holds the clubhouse door open. It’s surprisingly quiet.

I don’t know why I was expecting the usual chaos—music blaring, half-naked women, bikers drinking and shouting.

I should have known better. I mean, it’s the middle of the day and everyone is at work.

Contrary to popular belief most of these guys work a day job just like everyone else.

“This way,” Pee Wee motions for us to head down a hallway I’ve never been down before. He pushes open a door, revealing what looks like a small medical room. There’s a gurney, glass front cabinets full of supplies, and other medical equipment.

“What is this place?”

“Infirmary,” Pee Wee answers, helping me onto one of the gurneys. “Sometimes we have to take care of shit ourselves. Hospitals ask too many questions.”

Kenny climbs onto the other gurney, her face pale. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Bucket’s right there if you need it,” Pee Wee says, pointing to a metal basin.

The door opens and a man I’ve never seen before walks in.

He’s tall with broad shoulders that strain against his black t-shirt.

His brown hair is cut short, and he has the most striking jade green eyes I’ve ever seen.

There’s something steady about him, controlled, like he’s seen the worst the world has to offer and isn’t easily rattled.

“This is Bravo,” Pee Wee introduces. “Club’s medic.”

Bravo nods, immediately moving to Kenny. “What happened?” he asks, his voice deep and calm.

“Got pistol-whipped,” she mumbles.

He tips her head to the side and probes the wound with his fingers.

“Ow!” She winces.

“Easy!” Pee Wee growls.

“Sorry, Veep. Gotta see how deep it is.”

He takes a penlight from his pocket and shines it in her eyes. “Follow the light,” he instructs.

“How bad is it?” Pee Wee asks, moving closer.

He moves the light left then right, watching Kenny’s eyes. After a moment, he frowns. “She’s got a concussion.”

“No shit,” Kenny mutters.

“She’ll be fine. Just keep an eye on her for the next seventy-two hours.” Bravo tucks the light back into his pocket and turns to me. His eyes catalog my injuries. “And you?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

His mouth quirks in what might be amusement. “Sure you are.” He steps closer, gently tilting my chin to examine my split lip. “This needs some glue.”

“Is that necessary?”

“I can put a stitch in if you’d rather,” he arches a brow.

Yeah, no. I don’t think so .

I shake my head. I hate needles. “Glue is fine.”

Bravo works quickly, cleaning the gash first. When he applies the medical adhesive, it burns like fire.

“Shit!” I hiss, recoiling.

“Sorry,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes says he’s not really. “But it’s better than stitches. Will heal faster too.”

I nod, trying not to cry. It’s not the pain— I’ve had worse.

It’s everything else. My dad is dead. I was nearly raped.

And Klutch... I’ve never seen him like that before.

Even when he’s in that cage fighting. He attacked them both, and there’s not a doubt in my mind he wanted to do worse— that he would have done worse if I hadn’t stopped him.

And now… he’s god knows where doing god knows what to those men because of me.

“Where’s Klutch?” I ask, finally voicing the question that’s been burning in my mind. “Is he... is he going to kill Frankie?”

Pee Wee and Bravo exchange a look that sends chills down my spine.

“No darlin’,” he says, unable to meet my eyes. He’s lying. “Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

“But—”

“Club business isn’t for you to worry about, Sweetheart,” Bravo says just as cool as if he were telling me the weather. “Now,” he continues, lifting the edge of my torn shirt. “I need to check your ribs.”

He pushes on the purple coloring already formed on my side.

“Ow!” I squeeze my eyes shut. Son-of-a… That freaking hurts.

“The good news is that nothing is broken,” he pronounces after a thorough examination. “They are badly bruised though. You’re gonna be sore as hell for a while.”

I nod, tears welling in my eyes. That I believe.

“Do you want something for the pain?” Bravo asks, his voice softening as he notices my tears.

I shake my head. “I’m okay.”

It’s a lie, and we all know it, but he doesn’t call me on it.

“Alright. Rest up. Don’t move around too much.” He turns to Pee Wee. “I need to talk to you.”

The two men step just outside the door, speaking in hushed tones. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but Pee Wee’s posture is tense, his shoulders rigid.

With them out of the room, Kenny slides off her gurney and makes her way to mine. Without a word, she climbs up beside me and wraps her arms around me, careful to avoid my bruised ribs.

“I’m so sorry, Dems,” she whispers.

Something breaks inside me at her words. The dam I’ve been desperately trying to hold together crumbles, and all the emotions I’ve been suppressing come flooding out.

“He’s dead, Kenny. My dad is dead,” I choke out, burying my face in her shoulder. “Frankie killed him. He’s gone.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Dems. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she murmurs, stroking my hair as I fall apart in her arms.

But it’s not okay. It will never be okay again. My dad, for all his faults, was the only family I had left. And now he’s gone, just like my mom. I’m completely alone now.

“What am I going to do?” I sob. “I don’t have anyone left.”

“That’s not true,” Kenny insists, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

I nod, trying to draw comfort from her words, but the hole in my heart feels bottomless. “I keep thinking about the last time I saw him at The Underground. He said he was going to fix things.” My voice breaks. “I should have stopped him. Made him tell me what he was planning.”

“This isn’t your fault,” my best friend says firmly. “None of this is your fault.”

I wipe at my tears, wincing when my hand brushes my injured lip. “I should have listened to Klutch. He told me to stay away from the apartment, but I went anyway. And look what happened to us.”

Kenny pulls me closer. “We’ll get through this, Dems. We always do.”

But as I cling to my best friend, I’m not so sure. There’s no fixing this. He’s gone forever.

The door opens, and Bravo steps back in. His expression softens when he sees me crying in Kenny’s arms.

“I’m sorry about your father,” he says quietly.

I look up, surprised. “How did you?—”

“News travels fast in the clubhouse,” he explains. “You should try to rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

As he leaves, Kenny adjusts her position to make us both more comfortable. “Try to sleep, Dems. I’ll wake you when Klutch comes back.”

I close my eyes, exhaustion dragging me down.

But even as I drift off, one thought keeps circling in my mind.

What happens now?