Page 130 of The First Cut

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Simple as that?”

“Of course, it’s as simple as that. I love you, you idiot.”

“Fuck, if you weren’t injured…”

“Still in the room, people,” Gunther mutters.

“Rain check?” I giggle.

“Fucking count on it.”

I wait for him to leave before the smile slides off my face. Gunther puts the drinks down, walks over to the side of the bed, and sits on the edge, taking my hand in his.

He looks at me with sad eyes and that ever-present hint of guilt. “We all know how strong you are, Lola. But you can let go now.”

And that’s all it takes: permission to let go without worrying about scaring Millie or sending Hannibal into a murderous rage. I break apart as I relive the horror of what happened, knowing how close I came to losing everything.

“It’s all going to be alright now, Lola girl.”

“How do you know?” I whisper, my breath hitching painfully in my chest.

“Because Hannibal will make it so. That man loves you. More than that, he suits you. You fit, you know, far better than you and Havoc ever did.”

“I think maybe he was my reward.”

“Oh, sweetheart, haven’t you figured it out yet? It’s you that’s the reward. Hannibal's just the lucky bastard that gets to keep you.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hannibal

Iwalk into the pit with Byte and Ferris at my back. A few of the guys are already in here, spread out around the room, watching and waiting with gleeful anticipation.

Driller's hanging by his arms. A couple of heavy chains wrapped around his wrists keep him suspended just enough that only his toes scrape along the floor. His shoulders must be screaming in agony. Judging from the glazed look in his eyes and the sweat coating his forehead, I’d say they aren’t the only thing hurting.

I look down to the ground and see the small puddle of blood underneath him. It looks like the bleeding has slowed down. Well, we can’t have that now, can we?

“You really are a dumb fuck.”

His eyes whip to mine. He stares at me for a moment before clarity washes over him. “Fuck you, Hannibal. You stole my old lady and kid.”

“I can’t steal what was never yours,” I say with menace, stepping toward him.

“Fuck you. It was my cum that coated her womb. You can pretend that kid is yours all you want, but he ain’t. Every time you look at his face, you’ll see mine. He’ll grow up with you hating him, and I can’t fucking wait.”

I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze. “All I see when I look at my son is Lola. But here’s the difference between you and me, even if he looked exactly like you, I wouldn’t give a single fuck. It takes more than a cum shot to be a father.”

When his eyes start to roll into the back of his head, I release him.

Ferris steps up, lifts his leg, and kicks him in the chest, making him swing. “You shit on Lola. You shit on Havoc. You shit on all of us. And for what?”

Driller doesn’t answer. He just glares with hatred.

“What the fuck happened to you? You had the same parents as Havoc, the same club at your back, same fucking opportunities. And yet here you are, nothing more than shit I’d scrape off my boot.”

Ferris walks off, obviously not expecting an answer, and joins the rest of the brothers leaning against the wall. Byte steps up and takes his place beside me—VP and president and the beginning of a new era.