Page 61 of Misery

The words hang in the air like a bomb.

Ivar's face goes from red to white.

His hand moves toward his weapon, and I shift, ready.

But Elfe's not done.

The dam has broken and everything's flooding out.

"Maybe if you spent less time at the club and more time at home, you'd have noticed Los Coyotes watching me. Maybe if you paid attention to your family instead of your brotherhood, none of this would have happened."

"Elfe." Starla's voice is sharp. Wounded. "That's enough."

"Is it? Because I'm tired of pretending. Tired of acting like the club didn't come first. Like italwaysdoesn't come first." She looks between her parents, and the pain in her eyes is devastating. "I was almost raped—" she forces the word out, "—because the club pissed off Los Coyotes. And where was my protection then? Where was this great brotherhood that's supposed to protect families?"

"We didn't know—" Ivar starts.

"You didn't care enough to know!" The words explode out of her. "You were too busy playing biker to notice your daughter was being hunted! Too busy with your runs and your votes and your brotherhood to see I was falling apart!"

Ivar staggers like she hit him.

Starla has tears running down her face.

"I protected this family," Ivar says quietly. Deadly. "Everything I did was for you."

"No. Everything you did was for the club. We just got the scraps of attention left over."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" She wipes her face angrily, black mascara streaking. "I've been in therapy for seven months. You know how many sessions you've asked about? Zero. You know what my therapist's name is? What medications I'm on? How many nights I still wake up screaming?"

Silence stretches between them.

"But you know every detail about club business. Every run, every meeting, every vote." Her voice breaks completely. "I needed my father. Not the Road Captain. Just my dad. And you weren't there. You're never there when it actually matters."

Ivar looks at me, desperate to deflect. "This is your doing. Putting ideas in her head."

"No," Elfe says before I can respond. "This is years of built-up resentment finally coming out. Years of being second to the club. Oskar just made me feel safe enough to say it."

"He's using you?—"

"He's protecting me! Which is more than you ever did!"

The slap of those words is almost physical.

Ivar actually steps back, hand over his chest like she shot him.

"Baby," Starla tries, reaching for her daughter.

"Don't." Elfe backs away. "I can't. I can't do this anymore. Pretend we're this perfect club family when we're broken. When I'm broken because of choices you made."

She turns to me. "Get me out of here. Please."

I don't hesitate.

I move behind the bar, take her arm gently.

She's shaking so hard she can barely walk.