Page 111 of Lost Lyrebird

Without her, I know what kind of man I’ll become.My father.The seed is there, planted and watered with three decades of his fucked-up gospel of truth.Mayhem.Green.Power.That’s his holy trinity.Everything he does in life is to achieve those three things, and he expects me to carry those values forward—to take the patch, and turn the tables on the cartel after he’s opened the door wide for them to lay waste to our MC.The fucking pressure he puts on me mounts daily—to be worthy of taking his patch and walking in his footsteps.

Without Lily holding that spiritual window of happiness that she shines into my life open and reminding me of what matters, I’ll lose sight of what’s important.I know I will.Reality already feels half out of my grasp as it is.

Yes, I’m playing fucking roulette with my heart, my life, and many others, and betting on green.But I’ve run out of options.My father’s running this club into the ground, and the war we’re facing—it has the potential to erase our MC from the fucking map.The HOCs are a big part of that, whether they know it or not.Every chapter and club we’re tied to is.And I need to know who I can count on to stand with us when the pieces on the board start making their strategic moves.

If her bird man keeps sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and stirring up shit with the Thirteen Devils, the war will come to a head sooner rather than later.

Which fucks with my entire plan and throws everything into chaos.

In a different way, it works in my favor.Because if my girl seeks anything in this life, it’s a path with solid ground.Goose’s future, more than ever now, leads to an early grave.Mine, with her by my side, leads to a kingdom.One, we could rule together.

One day, maybe sooner than intended, my Gypsy Girl will weigh the risks and finally fucking see what she has right here waiting for her.Not only am I more capable of providing for and protecting her, but I have years ahead of me.He doesn’t.

She just has to face her demons first.Then she’ll make her choice and fly back where she belongs.

Good things come to those who wait, right?

Lucky for me, I’m a patient motherfucker.

CHAPTER 30

There’s no negotiating with the Devil.He’s never satisfied.

The atmosphere is tense as we prepare to leave the clubhouse.No one talks, but the silence is far from peaceful.There’s theclick, click, clickof bullets being loaded, plus the clang of metal hitting metal as magazines slide into place and our heavy artillery is piled into duffles we’re taking with us.My brothers and I have done this enough; it’s like clockwork.

Bodie’s standing across from me, shirtless.He reaches forward and grabs a Kevlar vest from the pile on the pool table and straps it on, before yanking his tee on over the top.He’s one of the last to don one.

They’re a precautionary measure—in case this meeting is a trap, and the weight of that possibility sits heavy in the room.It’s the reason for the silence.We’re mentally preparing ourselves for whatever’s waiting for us in the desert.

Maybe it’ll go smoothly, like Cap hopes.Maybe it won’t.

Either way, whatever outcome we face is on me.That truth gnaws like sharp teeth at my conscience.Cause and effect.Saving these girls has repercussions.This is it.It’s a fact, and it’s fucking with my head, because how can it be the right thing if I’m just trading a life for a life?

If I lose a brother today because I save Larissa, is it worth it?

I don’t have the answer.

All I have is the unease sitting like a dead weight in my gut and the mother of all migraines pulsing in a constant beat behind my eyes.

This is what has me digging through my supply of pills before we leave and popping one.I need to be able to see straight and have a clear mind going into this.The pain and guilt make it damn near impossible to do so, and I won’t be the weak fucking link today if the 13Ds come to the meeting with ill intentions.

When we exit the clubhouse, I immediately put on my shades to block out the bright-orange ball sitting high in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked lot.Heat radiates off the asphalt, penetrating through the soles of my boots.The dry, arid scent of earth on the breeze is of little comfort.

I latch my gear to my bike first.After pulling on my gloves, I roll my shoulders and try to relieve some of the tension in my upper back.It’s caused by bracing against the pain and has only gotten worse as the day progressed.

Before I can straddle my ride, Cap comes over.His large hand grips my shoulder.He squeezes once.

“You good?”

Cap’s always been like that—able to read people like they’re an open third-grade textbook.He’s a mountain of a man, with lines carved into his face from years of sporting wide smiles and deep frowns.Guess it comes part and parcel with leading an MC and a bunch of misfits who, at times, don’t act like fucking grown-ups.

The pain is hard to hide, but with him, there’s little need to.He knows.The concern covering his features says as much.

I shake my head once.“Would you be?”

“Nothin’ to it.”Cap’s tone is steady, grounding, the kind of voice that could talk a man off a ledge.“We knew this was comin’.Was fully aware of what you were doing, and you had my blessing.Just because we have blowback doesn’t mean you gotta let that rest on your shoulders alone.Anything worth doin’ comes with consequences, right?”

I let his words sink in, but the guilt doesn’t release its hold on me.I still hear the news about Edge, still imagine him in the prison infirmary, stabbed and beaten half to death.