“Wait,” I pant, my eyes spring open. “When are you…?” I say, unsure of what exactly I’m going to ask.

“Love—” The “you” is cut off and the line goes dead. I hang my head between my knees. “He’s going to be okay,” I say aloud, trying to reassure myself.

I am high. I am sad. I am happy. I am anxious.

The phone call with Bear makes me one thing I haven’t been since he’s been gone and that is the thing I want to cling to until the second he’s with me again.

Hopeful.

I hang up the phone and hand it back to King who puts it in his mouth and swallows it in one big gulp.

That’s how I knew the entire call was nothing more than a dream. The reality was that Bear had issued a no-contact rule. I was not to reach out to him and he was not to reach out to me. No calls. No visits. King explained that visiting the man in jail who was accused of murdering my parents didn’t make me look like the innocent Bear was trying to make me out to be.

When I opened my eyes, it really was King who was standing over me, his ginormous body cast in dark shadows, no evidence that he’d ingested any electronic devices. Thankfully, unlike my dream, I was fully dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, although I was still breathing hard, not yet fully recovered from the orgasm I’d almost had in my sleep. “Time to go home.”

Home? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. King instructed me to meet him outside in ten minutes and left the room. I tossed the covers off and made my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

A cold shower.

Home.

Where the fuck is that?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bear

A HORN BLASTED overhead, calling yard time to an end and not a moment too soon. Miller and I went to the nearest exit, never taking our eyes off our new company. “Not you, McAdams,” the guard manning the gate said, pushing me back out into the yard after Miller had already gone back in.

“What the fuck?” Miller asked, looking back as the guard slid the gate closed leaving me alone in the yard with my three former brothers who were making their way across the yard. Miller shot me a sympathetic look as another guard shooed him back inside the building.

“Thought you guys needed a moment alone. A little reunion of sorts,” the guard said with a sneer.

“Fuck you,” I spat, the mother fucking guard knew exactly what the fuck he was doing and I had no doubt he’d been paid off to do it. “Why don’t you come in here and we’ll see how fucking funny you think this is.” The guard chuckled at the hilarity of three against one, twirling a set of keys around on his fingers. With a mock salute he followed Miller back into the cellblock, whistling as he went. The heavy door echoing across the yard as it slammed shut.

I cracked the bones in my neck, preparing myself for the fight of my life. I met the pussies at the picnic table I’d just vacated, and to my surprise, Wolf leaned against the table while Stone and Munch took seats. I’d kind of just assumed they’d get on with it already. Although Miller had just given me a pack of smokes, when I spied a pack in the front pocket of Wolf’s jumpsuit, I reached in and plucked it out along with a book of matches. “Thanks for the smoke,” I said, lighting one and tossing the matchbook onto the table. “You girls ready to try and do this, or what?”

Try being the most important word.

I wasn’t scared of these motherfuckers. The only fear I really had was not seeing Ti again.

I was more annoyed than anything.

Agitated.

All those years and all that time wasted trying to make my brothers better outlaws and this was the best plan they could come up with? “I swear I taught you bitches better than this,” I said, shaking my head. “Taking me out in an open yard in front of a shit ton of cameras. Chop’s been losing his fucking touch for years, but I expected more than this sloppy shit from you three.” I expected them to stand up, puff out their chests, and make their threats against me.

Something.

Munch and Stone looked to the ground while Wolf lit his own cigarette. Before the flame met the paper, I punched him in the eye, and he immediately dropped to the ground.

I was always better at offense.

“Chop sent us, but we ain’t here to take you out, fucker,” Wolf said, rolling on the ground with his hand over his eye.

“Then what the fuck did he send you here for? A fucking tickle fight?” I breathed out the smoke through my nose, and although I had no idea how the next few minutes were going to play out, I felt relaxed amongst the familiar conflict.

At peace.

At home.

Adrenaline built as each second ticked by until I was positive I could flip a fucking truck over if I had the chance.

Or take on three guys at once and win.

“No, he did send us here to take you out, but that’s not what we’re gonna do,” Munch said, standing up and helping Wolf off the ground.

“You’re going to go against your Prez’s orders?” I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Now I’m actually disappointed. I must have been a real shitty teacher for you guys to make that kind of call.”

“We ain’t going against Prez’s orders,” Stone chimed in, standing up from the bench, “’Cause he ain’t our fucking Prez anymore.”

“Come again?” I asked, unsure of what weird alternate universe I’d just stepped into.

Wolf released his eye, which was already starting to swell, and unzipped his jumpsuit. Pushing it down, he revealed his bare chest, which used to be covered with a full chest piece tattoo of the Bastards’ logo. Now, it was an oozing wound, tissue and strands of damaged skin stretched across his chest, only a fraction of the tattoo remained.

He winced as he zipped back up.

“What the fuck? Chop do that?” I asked, pointing with my cigarette to Wolf.

He shook his head as both Munch and Stone revealed their own recently burned off tattoos. “No, he didn’t. We did. We all did.”

“Why?” I asked, standing there in complete disbelief that three of the Bastards’ most loyal soldiers had turned on their club. “What the fuck did Chop do that made you feel like you had to go all pyro on yourselves?”

“Stone, tell him…” Munch said with a reassuring nod. “He’s gotta know if we plan on making this right.”

“I can’t man,” Stone said, punching his open palm and shaking his head. His eyes became glassy and he sucked in his lips, rocking back and forth slowly like he was willing the memories of whatever he didn’t want to tell me. Stone got his name because when it came to taking people out he was a stone cold killer. The type of guy who barely had his gloves off, the body still warm, when he’d pipe up and say ‘I’m hungry, who wants a sandwich?’ To see him reduced to almost tears made me very curious about what the fuck it was they wanted him to tell me.