Page 31 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)
Ember
If I ever needed a sign that things were spiraling out of control, it was me curled into the back of a Suburban headed to Broadway with two pregnant women, a blind goddess with perfect lashes, and the club president’s Ol’ Lady giving us all a rally cry like we were going to war.
“Y’all got your IDs?” Eve asked, twisting in the front seat beside Kingpin, her hair in a teased-up halo, lipstick firetruck red and fierce as ever.
Rachel gave a dry laugh. “We’re not drinking.”
“I don’t give a damn if you’re ordering mocktails or milk,” Eve replied. “We’re getting in that damn bar. No stalling at the door.”
Cece leaned over toward Rachel in the back seat beside me. “She means business tonight,” she whispered like it was a warning. “Just nod and follow the sound of her heels.”
“You really can’t see anything?” I asked softly, trying not to sound rude. Blind, Cece moved like she could see better than the rest of us combined.
Cece grinned. “I see plenty. Just not the way you do.”
Irish snorted from the third row where he was perched like a guard dog, one boot braced, hand casually resting near the blade tucked into his belt. “Aye, and don’t let her fool ya. She’s got more eyes on us than the Devil himself.”
Cece rolled her sightless eyes. “That’s because you bring trouble wherever you go, Irish.”
“Trouble’s me middle name,” he said with a wink, probably aimed in the wrong direction.
We pulled into the neon jungle that was lower Broadway with lights bouncing off chrome bumpers, boots tapping in every direction, and the smell of whiskey and fried food floating thick in the warm air. Kingpin grunted and cut the engine.
“No drama,” he said, eyes flicking to Eve.
“No promises,” she replied, popping her lipstick shut and stepping out like a queen preparing for a parade.
We followed her through the crowd, past line dancers and buskers, into a dive bar called Bootsies with a band already halfway through a fiddle-heavy rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
Eve walked straight up to the manager like she owned the place. Ten minutes later, we had a booth, a waitress, and a round of non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiris with tiny pink boots sticking out that somehow made everything feel even more absurd.
Rachel sat across from me, close enough to feel the tension thicken between us.
I didn’t mean to say anything. I hadn’t planned to. But I was so damn tired of tiptoeing around truths that were already dragging us all to hell.
“I can’t believe I’m finally leaving,” I said, breaking the silence.
Cece blinked. Eve paused mid-sip. Rachel looked up from her drink, brows furrowed.
“Royal Road?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s time.”
Rachel’s voice was quiet. “So you’re just gonna go?”
“You can have him.”
Her lips puckered. “You think I want him after this?”
“I think we’re both exhausted trying to survive the wreckage of a man who couldn’t choose if his life depended on it.”
Eve set her drink down. “Say what you mean, Ember. This ain’t the kind of night for half-truths.”
I looked Rachel dead in the eye. “He kept sleeping with me because he thought I might be pregnant with his baby. That’s the only reason. It stopped being about fun the moment it got complicated.”
Rachel’s hands clenched around her glass. “You are pregnant.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But I don’t know if it’s his. And I was sleeping with Rome the whole time, too.”
Cece placed a gentle hand on the table. “You don’t have to stay to suffer.”
“I’m not,” I said, a little firmer now. “I’m leaving because I won’t raise a child where love is some kind of punishment. I won’t live in the middle of two men waiting to be claimed like property.”
Rachel sat back, eyes glossy. “I don’t want to raise mine around lies either.”
Eve exhaled and muttered, “Well, it’s about damn time.”
We all looked at her.
“You two needed this,” she said simply. “Truths. Hurt or not. We’re all we got at the end of the day. You want these men to grow up? Show them how women handle shit. With truth and teeth.”
Irish sauntered over just in time to catch that last bit. “Y’all settlin’ the biker world over fruity drinks?”
“Sit down and hush,” Cece said, patting the seat next to her.
He obeyed with a grin.
Rachel leaned forward, voice softer now. “You leaving for real?”
“I am.”
She studied me a moment longer. “Then I hope it’s everything you need it to be.”
It wasn’t forgiveness.
But maybe it was grace.
We sat in silence a while, the band switching to something slower, sadder. Eve finally stood, throwing her arm around both of us like she was keeping the peace with rhinestones and mascara.
“Let’s go listen to some damn music,” she said. “One last night on the town before the whole damn club burns down or grows up.”
I nodded and stood, hand brushing over my belly.
No matter what came next, tonight we weren’t rivals.
We were just women trying to survive the storm.