His hand was still around my throat, his face inches from mine when we heard a throat clearing from the doorway. I was afraid to look away from Dragon’s face as I heard an old familiar voice.

I could barely see Grease from the corner of my eye, and with what little thought I could spare, I was surprised at how big he’d grown. The boy I’d remembered was never scrawny but definitely lean in build. The guy was now built like a tank. His shoulders barely fit in the doorway.

“Dragon, brother, we need to ride. We need to be in Boise by morning. We just got the call.” Grease paused like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he just told Dragon, “I’ll meet you outside.”

The hand at my throat loosened a little and then tightened again as if it had a mind of its own. Then, I felt each finger slowly loosen again until he completely let go.

“Don’t you fuckin’ go anywhere, Brenna.” He pointed a finger inches away from my nose. “I might have let you go before, but that was before I knew about her. If you leave, I’ll find you. You don’t want me to fuckin’ chase you. You don’t wanna see what I’ll do if I have to chase your ass.”

With those parting words, he stormed out of the bedroom.

It was official.

I was screwed.

Trix and I spent the next two weeks living out of Pop’s room at the club. When I made my plan to move in with Pop, I’d had no idea that he’d sold our little house on the outskirts of town two years ago. He’d been living in the clubhouse indefinitely because he couldn’t think of a reason to keep up a house that he never spent any time in. I understood his reasons, but I was still a bit sad that the house I’d grown up in was gone. I’d dreamed about Trix swinging in the old play structure in our backyard, jumping on my old bed, taking a bath in our old claw-foot tub. The whole situation was nothing like I had planned, and I felt like I was on a merry-go-round that wouldn’t stop.

The first night, right after Dragon had left, we’d had dinner with the club president and his old lady. The man who was feared all along the Western seaboard was nothing but an uncle figure to me, and I was actually pretty excited to see him. When I was growing up, his old lady, Vera, had been the only mother figure in my life. She’d taught me about tampons and bought me a bra, and I couldn’t wait to show Trix off to them both. Unfortunately, dinner didn’t go quite as I’d planned—at all.

Their house was right outside the compound, but in order to get to it, we had to drive. This was done so in the event of any warrants being written for club grounds, their house would be exempt. I didn’t even know if the deed was in either of their names. Probably not.

The house wasn’t anything fancy, just a two-story, wide front porch, regular-looking house. All of the upgrades were invisible to the untrained eye. They had video cameras, bulletproof glass, a panic room, and God only knew what else. When you drove up though, it looked like any other house in the middle of nowhere.

When we got to the house, Vera came rushing out to give me a hug. I knew she would. She was a bitch to most people, but if you knew her well, like I did, you knew that underneath all of that hardness was the clichéd heart of gold. When she got done hugging me, I reached down and pulled Trix to stand in front of me.

“This is my daughter, Bellatrix. Trix, this is Auntie Vera. Can you say hello?” When I introduced them, I prayed that Vera wouldn’t see what I did when I looked at Trix.

I knew my prayers were in vain when she raised her eyes to me. All softness was gone out of her face, and for the first time, she looked at me with the hard eyes she showed to everyone else. Shit. This wasn’t going to go easily.

While I introduced Vera to Trix, Pop was busy walking toward the front door where Slider, our president was standing. I looked up to catch them talking in low voices before they went into the house. He didn’t even say hello to me—not even after five years. Fuck me. He was pissed.

I hoped that word hadn’t reached him yet about Dragon and me, but I should have known better. Bikers gossip like teenage girls. He’d obviously not yet told Vera, and I was glad that I would be gone long before they had that discussion later. Some old ladies felt free to bitch and moan at their men in front of anyone, but Vera never did. I didn’t know if it was just her natural reserve or the fact that she was married to the president—probably a little of both.

Dinner was awkward. When Vera brought out her pot roast, which was my favorite, my mouth watered at the smell, but looking at her face, I wondered if she was going to refuse to let me eat it. She hadn’t said one word to me the entire time I’d been here; she just stared me down. I knew she was pissed, and I knew she was disappointed, but I wasn’t willing to explain myself. For one, Trix was right there with me, and she had no idea what was going on. And two, I knew I was going to be interrogated by Slider later. There wouldn’t be any evading it, and I was going to have to answer every humiliating question. I only wanted to do it once.

Trix was the baby elephant in the room, and she had no clue. She never noticed that only Pop spoke to me. Both Slider and Vera reserved all of their smiles for her.

Pop and Slider spoke about club business as usual, and listening to them made me wonder if Trix’s vocabulary was going to double by the end of the night. She had never heard so many different variations of swear words before. It didn’t bother me too much though. She would’ve learned far worse things if I had stayed with my husband. This was definitely a lesser evil.