Page 67 of Unhinged

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

brYDGETT

I find Acid out back, leaning against the clubhouse wall, like he’s waiting for something to explode, or maybe for someone to try him so he can start the explosion himself. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth, boots crossed at the ankle, sunglasses on even though the sky’s cloudy.

“Hey,” I say, walking out barefoot, coffee in hand.

He doesn’t look at me right away. Just shifts slightly, like he knew I was coming. “You call him yet?”

I shake my head. “Wanted you there.”

“Thought so.” He finally turns his head and smirks. “You look well fucked, by the way. Real pretty, just slightly unhinged.”

I take a sip and flip him off. “Thanks. You coming in for the call or what?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stretches like a cat and then nudges my shoulder as we head back inside. “You gonna stab him?”

“Maybe just a little.”

He grins. “Good. I’ll bring a towel.”

Inside, I grab my phone and plop down on the couch. Acid drops beside me, one leg bouncing, his energy already too damn much. I hesitate, staring at Georgia’s name in my contacts.

“You want me to hit dial for you?” Acid asks, eyebrow raised.

“No.” I click it myself before I can overthink. It rings once. Twice.

She answers on the third ring. “Brydgett?”

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Can you go across the hall and tell Marcus I want to speak to him?”

There’s a pause. Not long. Just enough to make me think she’s debating whether to ask questions.

“Alright,” she says gently. “Give me a minute.”

The line goes quiet for a beat or two, and then I hear a door creak and some muffled voices: Georgia’s, then his.

His voice comes through, a little breathless, like he jogged over. “Brydgett?”

My hand tightens around the phone like it might jump out of my grip. Acid watches me but stays quiet, just there , steady and annoying like always.

“Yeah,” I say, steadying myself. “It’s me.”

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks fast, too fast. “I’ve been waiting—hoping you’d?—”

“Don’t push it,” I snap. “I’m not calling to cry and hug it out. But I’m calling. So shut up and listen.”

“…Okay.”

I lean back into the couch, eyes locked on a crack in the ceiling. “You were my friend. And now you’re claiming you’re my brother. You dropped that like a bomb. You should have told me sooner. And yeah, I’m still pissed.”

“I know,” he says, quiet now. “I deserve that.”

“But,” I force out, “you saved me. And you looked after Judge. So I’m not cutting you out. Yet.”

Acid grins and mouths yet like he’s proud of me.

“I want you to come talk. In person. Tonight.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Marcus says. “I’ll be there.”

“And Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“Acid’s gonna be there. So if I stab you,” I say sweetly, “he’s gonna let me.”

Acid salutes from the couch.

Marcus sighs. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Good,” I say, and hang up.

I drop the phone onto my lap and exhale like I’ve been holding my breath since the minute I found out.

Acid slaps my knee once. “Proud of you, Omega.”

“Shut up.”

He grins. “Still proud, though.”

The knock on the door is too soft and polite to be one of the brothers.

Acid glances at me. “You want me to get it?” he asks.

“No. I got it.”

I cross the room and open the door. Marcus stands there, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, eyes unsure. His shoulders are tight, like he’s bracing for me to hit him already.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside.

He walks in, and Acid stays right where he is, arms crossed, silent but sharp. Marcus nods at him but doesn’t say anything.

I sit on the edge of the armrest, Acid leans against the wall like a damn vulture, and Marcus sits in a chair across from me. The space between us feels like miles.

“You didn’t have to call,” Marcus says finally. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Don’t push it,” I reply.

He nods again, jaw tight. “I just—-I want to explain.”

“I don’t need an explanation. I need the truth.”

“That is the truth,” he says. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to just drop it on you and mess up what we had. You trusted me.”

“And then you didn’t give me a choice,” I snap. “You let me walk around thinking you were just some guy living in the alley. I fed you. I gave you my fucking apartment. Not family. Not blood.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s on me.”

Acid finally speaks up. “You know what else is on you? Playing homeless instead of just saying something.”

“I didn’t know if she’d want me in her life,” Marcus says. “Not with everything she’s been through. I figured staying close was better than losing her completely.”

My hands tighten in my lap.

“And what if I’d died before you said anything?” I ask, voice quieter now. “You would’ve just carried that around? Never said a damn word?”

His face twists. “I don’t know.”

“Look,” I sigh. “You saved me. You helped keep Judge safe. You were there when you didn’t have to be.”

“I always had to be,” he says, voice thick. “You’re my sister.”

There’s a beat of silence. Acid shifts just enough that I feel his presence beside me, calm but ready.

“Like I said on the phone, I’m not forgiving you…yet.”

Marcus nods. “I don’t expect you to.”

“I meant what I said about not cutting you out, either.”

His breath catches. “Okay.”

“But if you ever lie to me again…” I look him dead in the eye. “I will stab you.”

Acid raises a hand. “I can confirm. She will.”

Marcus gives this crooked, pained smile. “That’s fair.”

“Good,” I say, leaning back finally. “We’re making progress.”

I let the silence hang for a few more seconds before I push off the armrest.

“You hungry?” I ask.

Marcus blinks. “What?”

“Dinner. You staying for it?”

He sits a little straighter. “Uh…if that’s okay?”

I glance at Acid. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him, but I can tell he’s paying close attention. Always is. Watching everything, reading the room even when he pretends he’s not.

“It’s fine,” I say, heading toward the kitchen. “Judge will want to see you, anyway.”

The second I say his name, Marcus shifts again. Softer this time. His whole damn expression changes, and it hits me that maybe it was never just about me. Maybe he’s been watching over Judge this whole time, too. Another layer of guilt or duty—whatever it is, it’s there.

Bettie’s at the stove, some kind of stew simmering in the pot. She gives me a once-over and then notices Marcus behind me. Her brow lifts, but she doesn’t say anything right away.

“He’s staying for dinner,” I say simply.

She nods once. “Alright then. Table’s big enough.”

Judge comes barreling in from the back hallway, socks sliding across the floor. “What smells—” He stops short when he sees Marcus. “Hey! You’re back!”

Marcus smiles, and for the first time since walking in, it looks real. “Hey, kid.”

Judge crosses the room and fist-bumps Marcus without hesitation, like he’s just another familiar face in his world. Then he looks up at me.

“Is he eating with us?”

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice light. “He’s earned it. Mostly.”

Acid snorts and cracks open a beer from the fridge. “Barely.”

Dinner pulls itself together fast after that. Bowls clatter, stew gets ladled out, and I glance around, realizing someone’s missing.

“Where’s Dillon?” I ask, stirring my bowl.

Marcus hums but doesn’t answer, too busy with a mouthful of stew. Honestly, I can’t blame him, Bettie’s a damn good cook and I’m not about to interrupt the man’s meal.

Bettie answers instead, sliding a plate across the table. “She’s eating out with a friend tonight.”

Acid grunts without looking up, “Better have bail money ready.”

Judge laughs and nearly chokes on his bread. I shake my head and smirk.

Marcus finally swallows. “She seemed normal enough to me.”

“That’s your first mistake,” Acid mutters, jabbing his spoon into his bowl.

I roll my eyes.

Judge settles between me and Marcus, scooting closer to him every time he gets excited about something. They talk about school and comics and how Marcus used to be in the Army.

“You really were?” Judge asks, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” Marcus says, smiling down at him. “A long time ago.”

Judge just nods like that’s the best answer in the world and starts digging into another roll.

I lean back in my chair, stew warming my hands, and glance at Marcus. “You wanna tell him?”

Marcus hesitates for a second, then looks at Judge. “Actually, there’s something you should know.”

Judge pauses, roll halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“You know how I said I cared about you and your mom? It’s because, well, I’m your uncle. Your mom’s my sister.”

Judge blinks. Looks at me. Then back at Marcus. “Really?”

“Really,” I say, setting my spoon down. “I found out the night we got back. Right after Marcus helped me. I was pissed. Still kind of am. But we’re talking it out. Figuring it out.”

Judge sits with that for a second, chewing slowly, like he’s trying to process all of it. Then he grins.

“Cool.”

I blink. “That’s it? Just cool?”

He shrugs, totally unbothered. “I’m really liking our family growing. Maybe Ike and Jackie can move closer, too.”

My throat goes tight, thick with emotion. Acid’s hand brushes against mine under the table, grounding me. This time, I reach back.

Marcus catches my eye. Just once. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t push.

And I nod. Not forgiveness. But a start.

The table starts to quiet down as bowls empty and stew settles warm in our bellies. The laughter fades a little, leaving just silence. Gears clears his throat.

Marcus looks up, and Gears shifts forward, elbows on the table. “We had an idea,” he says, voice steady, “one that’d keep you close to Gidge and your, uh, nephew.”

Marcus raises a brow. “I’m listening.”

“Well,” Gears says, “we’re getting ready to start house hunting. It’s time to move out. Which means rooms here at the clubhouse are gonna be open.”

Marcus nods slowly.

“So,” Gears continues, “we were wondering if you’d have any interest in joining the Renegades.”

Marcus blinks. “Become a biker?”

“Yeah,” Gears says.

Marcus leans back, arms folded. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the bitch work your low men do. I did enough of that in the service.”

“Consider being our brother-in-law an advantage.” Gears smirks. “You’d skip prospecting. Go straight to patched in.”

Marcus is quiet for a beat. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Acid says, incredulous. “That’s it? We ask you to join the club, knowing full well what we do, and it’s just fine?”

Marcus shrugs. “If it gets me time with my sister and nephew, I’ll do it. Plus, I like it here. Little loud, but I’ll deal.”

Arrow lets out a low laugh and Gears nods. “Alright, then. First order from your president. We got a whore we need you to drop off at another chapter.”

Marcus stiffens. “You trade women?”

“Not like that,” Gears says fast. “She laid hands on our omega. And while Gidge whipped her ass,” he nods toward me, “we’re not keeping her here. She was told—leave voluntarily or be tossed. She chose to go.”

“And the trade?”

“Another chapter’s sending one of theirs,” Arrow explains. “Willingly. Fresh start. Stacy’s hoping she’ll still land an Ol’ Man over there.”

“When did all this go down?” I ask, turning to Gears.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I put Suave on it while we were handling your heat.”

I stare at him for a second, then lean over and kiss him slowly. “I love you.”

Gears grins. “You better.”

I smirk. “I love all three of you.”

They murmur it back like a prayer, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Judge, of course, chooses that moment to fake a gag and make a face. “Gross.”

Marcus chuckles. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go outside. You can show me how good you’re getting at catching a ball.”

“Okay,” Judge says with a shrug, already pushing his chair back.

I watch him go, heart squeezing tight. “Watch him,” I mumble.

Marcus glances back, eyes warm. “With my life.”