Page 10

TEN

ROGUE

My head pounds as I drag myself out of bed, remnants of last night's drinking binge still coursing through my system. The events of the past few days play on an endless loop in my mind—Willow's screams, the smell of burning flesh, the look of betrayal and hatred in her eyes as I left her at her apartment. Every time I tried to sleep last night, her face was all I saw. I drank myself unconscious just so I wouldn’t have to see her.

I stumble to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, staring at my haggard reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at me is a stranger—hollow-eyed and haunted. How did I let things go so far? How could I have stood by while the woman I love was tortured? But I had no choice. There’s no going against the club. Not fucking ever. I did what I had to do and it was beyond fucked up.

Pounding on my door jolts me from my brooding. "Rogue! Open up, brother. We need to talk."

I recognize Ghost's voice and groan. The last thing I want right now is company, but I know he won't leave until I answer. Pulling on a shirt, I make my way to the door and yank it open. I spent the night at the clubhouse. There was no fucking way I could go back to my apartment, not with everything smelling of Willow.

Ghost takes one look at me and shakes his head. "Jesus, you look like shit."

"Thanks," I mutter, stepping aside to let him in. "What do you want?"

Ghost's expression turns grim as he enters my room. "We fucked up, brother. Big time."

My stomach drops. "What are you talking about?"

"Your girl, Willow. She was telling the truth. It wasn't her who stole the flash drive or met with the Hawks. It was her sister."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stagger back, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself. "What?"

Ghost nods, his face a mask of regret. "We got some new intel last night. Turns out Willow was telling the truth when she told you about her sister, Ivy. She's the one who's been working with Lochlann and the Hawks. In fact, she’s been dating that bastard."

"Oh god," I whisper, bile rising in my throat as the full implications sink in. "What have we done?"

"Storm's handling it," Ghost says, his voice hard. "Ivy won't be a problem anymore. Get your ass downstairs. I have no doubt you want to see what he has planned."

I close my eyes as a smile forms on my face. That bitch is going to suffer. She deserves it. Her sister was tortured because of her.

"And Willow?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Ghost's expression softens slightly. "We haven't been able to locate her. She's disappeared."

Part of me is relieved to hear that—at least she's safe from us now. But another part aches at the thought of never seeing her again, never being able to apologize for the horrors we inflicted on her.

"I need to find her," I say, already moving toward the door. "I need to explain?—"

Ghost's hand on my arm stops me. "No, brother, that's not happening."

I turn to glare at him. "What do you mean?"

"Storm's orders," Ghost says firmly. “The girl’s been hurt enough and, brother, there’s no fucking way she’d want to see you. So Storm’s orders are that you don’t find her. Leave her be.”

I grit my teeth. “I can’t,” I growl. “You have no fucking idea?—”

He sighs. “You love her,” he tells me. “It’s clear as fucking day. It was written all over your face when Storm hurt her. It took everything in you not to rip his head off. But, brother, you stood back and let it happen. No way in hell is that woman ever going to forgive you for that.”

"Ghost," I growl, anger and desperation warring inside me. "You don't understand. I need to make this right. I need to explain?—"

"Explain what, exactly?" Ghost interrupts, his voice hard. "That you stood by and watched while she was tortured? That you let her believe you thought she was guilty? There's no explaining that away, brother."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut because I know he's right. There's no justification for what I did, no explanation that could ever make it okay.

"I fucked up," I whisper, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "I fucked up so bad, Ghost."

Ghost's expression softens slightly. He sits down next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, you did. We all did. But what's done is done. The best thing you can do for her now is to let her go."

I shake my head, unable to accept that. "I can't. I love her, Ghost. I can't just?—"

"You have to," he interrupts firmly. "For her sake. You really think seeing you again would do anything but traumatize her further? She needs to heal, brother, and she can't do that with you around."

Deep down, I know he's right. The memory of the fear and hatred in Willow's eyes when I left her at her apartment flashes through my mind. I'm the last person she needs in her life right now.

"Fine," I say finally, my voice hollow. "I'll stay away. But at least let me know if you find out where she is. Just... just so I know she's safe."

Ghost nods. "I can do that. Now come on, Storm wants everyone in the chapel. We've got some business to take care of.”

Once again, a smile on my face forms. Hell fucking yes we do. Ivy, that bitch, must have known what she was doing when she stole that information. She must have known we’d think Willow was the one who betrayed us. She’s going to regret ever fucking with the Saints, that’s for sure.

I follow Ghost down to the chapel, a mixture of emotions churning inside me—anger at Ivy for her betrayal, grief over what happened to Willow, and a burning desire for revenge.

When we enter, Storm is already there along with several other brothers. His face is grim as he outlines what we've learned about Ivy's involvement with the Hawks.

"This bitch played us," Storm growls. "Made us torture her own sister while she was the real traitor all along."

Murmurs of anger ripple through the room. I clench my fists, thinking of Willow's screams; the pain in her eyes.

"So what's the plan, Prez?" Savage asks.

Storm's eyes are cold as he responds: "We're going to send a message. To Ivy, to the Hawks, to anyone who thinks they can fuck with the Saints."

He outlines a plan to abduct Ivy and make her pay for her betrayal. As I listen, part of me recoils at the brutality of it. But a darker part relishes the thought of revenge against the woman who caused Willow so much pain.

When Storm’s finished speaking, he looks at me. "You want in on this, Rogue? Seems only fair you get a piece of the action."

I nod grimly. "Count me in."

As we prepare to carry out Storm's plan, I try to tell myself this is justice. But deep down, I know the truth—no amount of vengeance will undo what we did to Willow. Nothing can make that right.

The raid on Ivy's apartment is swift and brutal. We catch her off guard, still half-asleep in her bed. Her screams are quickly silenced as Ghost gags her and ties her up. Unfortunately, Lochlann isn’t with her. It would have been even better if he was, but I have no doubt that his time will come.

As we drag her out to the van, I catch a glimpse of her face. The resemblance to Willow is uncanny, and for a moment, I'm frozen, memories of Willow's torture flashing through my mind. But then I remember that this is the woman responsible for Willow's pain, and my resolve hardens.

As I ride back to the clubhouse, Willow’s words about her family come back to me. She never felt as though she belonged. She told me her sister was the golden child; that compared to Ivy, she was ordinary, just someone her family pushed to the corner.

She was anything but ordinary. She was magnificent, and I fucked it up. I had the woman of my dreams in my bed, in my life. I fucking loved her with every piece of me and I screwed up so fucking badly.

Back at the clubhouse, Storm wastes no time. He has Ivy strapped to a chair in the basement, her eyes wide with terror as she takes in the grim faces surrounding her.

"You thought you could betray us and get away with it?" Storm growls, circling her like a predator. "You thought you could let your own sister take the fall for your actions?"

Ivy struggles against her bonds. “You’re animals,” she cries. “I saw what you did to my sister. Did she tell you it wasn’t her? But you didn’t listen. You tortured her so badly she ran away.”

Guilt rolls through my stomach, but Storm isn’t letting her words affect him. “Don’t act as though you’re innocent, cunt. You’re the reason she was hurt. You let your sister take the fall. I bet you’re regretting not leaving with her.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses.

Storm laughs. “Never. I have standards, and a bitch who’s been on a Hawks’ dick ain’t ever going to be it.”

Ivy screams as Storm lands the first punch to her face. Everything he does to her is a brutal mirror of what we did to Willow. Every cut, every burn, every blow is payback for the innocent woman we hurt. I participate mechanically, trying to convince myself that this is justice, that this will somehow make things right.

But with each of Ivy's screams, all I can hear is Willow. All I can see is the pain and betrayal in her eyes as I stood by and let her suffer.

Ghost was right, there’s no fucking making up for what I did to her; what I allowed to happen to her. I should have known better than to think it was her. She was right, I didn’t know her. If I did, I would have known she was telling the truth. The reality is, I was too chicken shit to look deeper, knowing that if I did, it would mean going against the club. My club. My brothers. My family. That shit just ain’t done.

When we’re finished with our revenge on Ivy, she’s barely conscious, her body covered in bruises and blood. Storm nods to Ghost, who steps forward with his gun drawn.

"Send our regards to the Hawks," Storm says coldly.

The gunshot echoes through the basement. It's done. Ivy is dead, the real traitor punished. But as I look down at her lifeless body, all I feel is emptiness.

Once we’re finished cleaning up the remains of our revenge, Ghost pulls me aside.

"You okay, brother?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

I shake my head. "No," I admit. "None of this feels right, Ghost. We hurt an innocent woman. Killing her sister doesn't change that."

Ghost sighs heavily. "I know. But it's done now. All we can do is move forward."

But as I walk away, I wonder if there's any moving forward from this. The Saints Outlaws have been my family, my whole world, for so long. But now, for the first time, I'm questioning everything.

I think of Willow, out there somewhere, carrying the scars of what we did to her. And I know that no matter what happens next, nothing will ever be the same.

“Son,” Storm says as I reach for the whiskey bottle, “you think drinking yourself to death is going to help?”

I look up at Storm, my hand still on the whiskey bottle. "No," I admit gruffly as I take a seat. "But it might help me forget for a while."

Storm sighs and sits down next to me. "I know you're hurting, son. What happened with Willow, it was a mistake. A terrible one."

I laugh bitterly. "A mistake? Is that what we're calling it now? We tortured an innocent woman, Storm. We branded her. And I stood by and let it happen."

"We all did," Storm says quietly. "We thought we were protecting the club. Protecting our brothers. We’ve lost too many as it is at the hands of the Hawks."

"And look where that got us," I spit out. "Willow's gone, traumatized for life probably. And for what? Because we were too fucking paranoid to listen when she told us the truth."

Storm is quiet for a long moment. "You loved her, didn't you?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"I'm sorry, son," Storm says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I truly am. If I'd known?—"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," I interrupt. "The club comes first. Always has, always will. Isn't that right?"

Storm doesn't answer, but his silence speaks volumes.

“There’s no making up for what we’ve done,” I say, more so to myself than him.

“One day, we’ll meet our maker, son; then, and only then, will we have to repent for what we’ve done.”

Christ, does he truly believe that? Does he not realize that I’ll be fucking reliving this for the rest of my life? That hurting the woman I love has pushed me to a dark place and nothing, not a fucking thing, could ever make me forget it?

I stand up abruptly, no longer able to sit still. "I need some air," I mutter, heading for the door.

As I step outside, the cool night air hits my face. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. But all I can think about is Willow—her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was someone worth loving. And then I remember her screams, the fear in her eyes, the hatred in her voice when she told me she never wanted to see me again.

I've lost her. I know that. And the worst part is, I deserve to lose her.

As I stand there in the darkness, I make a silent vow. One day, I’ll make it up to her. I’ll let her know how fucked up it was for me not to protect her. One day, I’ll see the woman I love again. And one day, I pray that she’ll find it in that big heart of hers to forgive me.