Page 2

My heart races in my chest and my boots pound against the floor as I race through the clubhouse. Club whores and old ladies watch me warily, having seen my short fuse plenty over the last seven years. My brothers stand alert, ready for whatever is happening.

Manic stands at the door, his face pale as he stares at his son across the room. I don’t have the time or the inclination to worry about his shit right now because my woman has come home. Guess he knows his has too.

“Move,” I snarl, shoulder-checking past him to get out the door.

The only thing I focus on is getting to the gate, where Kraken and Hannibal, two of our prospects, are holding Birdie.

Cyanide said she was beaten to hell.

My fists clench at the thought of someone laying their hands on my Birdie.

Where the fuck is her husband? If he’s with her, I’ll kill him this time. There’s no goddamn way I can have them together in my fucking space and not lose it.

Not now that she’s back.

I let her go twice without a fight. It won’t happen a third time, husband or not. She’s mine. Always has been. He’s just a pissant who’s been holding my place until she was ready to come home.

There’s a rundown piece of shit clunker sitting outside the gates, and an irate Valkyrie is going toe-to-toe with Hannibal, something even most men won’t fucking do.

Woman has always had balls of steel.

Valkyrie must hear me coming because she twirls around to face me. Rage bleeds from her eyes, but it’s the fear lurking behind it that has my fingers digging into my palms.

“You,” she yells, “open this fucking gate so I can get her inside.”

Hannibal does an about-face at my nod and marches inside the gatehouse with Kraken.

“You scaring the prospects, Kyrie?”

She stares me down, ignoring my question. There’s a weight of blame in her eyes that’s being laid at my feet.

I lift a brow, daring her to speak the words that twist through her eyes.

She wants to. They’re there on the tip of her tongue.

I’m about to brace myself for that protectiveness she’s always had over Birdie, but the gates creak open.

Without a word, she climbs into the driver’s side of the car and gives it gas.

It spits and sputters as she speeds past me, black smoke spilling out of the dragging tailpipe.

What the fuck is going on?

As the prospects close the gate, I turn on my heels and jog over to the car as Valkyrie climbs out. She heads to the back, where two little kids climb out from, then her low soothing tones reach my ears as she leans into the backseat.

I tense as I watch her guide Birdie out.

A hiss flies past my lips when I get my first glimpse of her in five years.

Birdie’s eyes are swollen so much, she can barely see out of them.

Her lips are puffy, bruised, and caked with blood.

There’s a butterfly bandage over her nose and one over her right cheekbone.

Her face is so many goddamn shades of black and purple that I have to swallow back the vomit that threatens to erupt.

It’s not until I get to the black fingerprints around her neck that the reaper under my skin starts demanding the life force of the one who dared harm her.

It’s more than just the bruises that line her face. It’s the slacks and bloody lilac blouse. It’s the pearls around her neck and in her ears. It’s the way that I can tell her once free-flowing curls were pulled into a tight bun before her obvious assault.

“What the fuck happened to you?” I snap without thinking.

A puff of air shoots from me when something nails me in my stomach. I glance down to find Birdie’s little boy staring at me, patchy red blotches on his face and bared teeth. My eyes drop to his clenched fists, letting me know what hit me.

“Watch your mouth when talking to my mama,” he spits.

I shake my head with a slight, closed-lip smile before nodding at him. “Good boy.”

When he narrows his green eyes, I notice the little patch of honey color in his left one. Everything about him is familiar. He looks so much like his mom but has his dad’s hair color. The heart I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel beat again pinches at the thought.

“What’s your name?”

“Legend,” he growls.

I squat down. “All right, Legend. I’m gonna apologize for the way I spoke. I was startled.”

“Legend,” Birdie croaks.

Hearing her voice for the first time in so long has me locking my knees to keep from falling to them.

It’s just another thing that has changed about her, though.

Those fingerprints around her neck are the cause of the raspiness in her tone now.

There’s a fire in my veins as that realization washes through me.

The blaze ripples under my skin, demanding I take the dues from someone.

I just don’t know who the fuck I need to bleed out.

“Where’s your dad?” I ask the question burning me up.

The little girl who had been hiding behind Legend steps to his side, reaching down to tangle her fingers with his. “Come on, bugga. Mama needs us.”

Her quiet tone has my gaze dropping to her, and I suck in a sharp breath when her glacier eyes clash with mine. The longer I stare at her, the more sweat drips down my temple. My heart speeds up and trembles start in my toes.

Those fucking eyes.

“Standing in front of them.”

Birdie’s raspy voice drops the bomb before she allows Valkyrie to guide her to the door Manic is holding open.

Words are stolen from me as my throat tightens.

My kids?

My gaze wanders over them as I take in each of their features greedily, desperate to find some connection.

Why? Why didn’t she tell me?

Heat builds in my eyes, and I bite down on my cheek to fend off the tears. The pain from the pressure of my clenched teeth holds me the fuck down so I don’t spiral out of control.

They watch me warily for a few more seconds before leaving me behind to hurry after their mom.

Kids.

A son.

A daughter.

Two pieces of me and my Birdie.

Shock holds me immobile for minutes before anger shoves through the emotion, shattering it and taking the forefront.

Closing my eyes, I climb to my feet and shove everything back into the abyss inside me.

There will be time to wade through it all after I find out what the fuck is going on and who the fuck laid hands on my goddamn woman.