Page 97 of Static

Butcher was calling out commands and I followed them, hitting him, attacking him. It was like something was released inside me. It had been pent up and angry, but locked down beneath all the fear and grief and guilt. Now it was loose.

And I wasn't afraid. For the first time in a year I wasn't afraid.

"Okay, that's enough," Butcher told me.

I dropped my fists and sat down on the mats, my chest heaving. I flopped onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn't breathed this hard since I pushed Grace out.

"Feel better?"

My eyes closed and I couldn't help it. I started laughing. When I opened them again, he was standing over me, grinning.

"Feels good doesn't it? Taking that power back?"

"It really does," I told him. I shook my head, bewildered that this was what had helped me the most over the last year. The therapy was needed, I knew that, and I'd keep going. I had to get all those poisonous thoughts out of my mind. And Static helped more than I ever knew another person could. He made me feel safe. I knew I always had a place I could go and I'd be understood, loved, and protected. But this…

It was like I'd taken back my life. Control of it anyway. I was ecstatic and wanted to bounce off the walls.

"You did good, Gwen," he told me, sitting down next to me. He was still in his jeans, cut, and boots. And I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt. We weren't even prepared for this impromptu session, yet here we were.

"What made you do this?" I asked, looking over at him.

A grim look crossed his face. "You were sitting there-" He shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"Tell me," I prompted. "I can take it." Everyone was treating me like I was fragile, and I got it. I'd been acting that way. So, I didn't blame them. But it was time to make some changes.

"You looked so fucking sad... Damaged," he corrected himself. "I know Trent coming after you took a piece of you."

That was exactly it. Who knew this man would understand and explain what had happened to me better than the therapist could?

"I know what that can do to a person." He met my gaze then looked away, staring off into space. As much as I wanted to ask him about that, I didn't. It would just shut him down.

He continued speaking, "And we've been giving you a chance to deal with it on your own, because that seemed to be how you wanted it. Everyone deals with their own shit in their own way. I get that. But it's been long enough and nothing you're doing seems to be working." His jaw tightened as he paused. "Saw you sitting there, staring at your kids, and the damn look on your face broke my goddamn heart." He shook his head and scoffed. "Or it woulda if I had one."

I smiled at him and moved until I was sitting up. I didn't say the truth in that moment, because it would just embarrass him. He had a heart. He didn't show it often, but when he did it moved all of us. It was why we loved him so dearly. I was sure that was why Lockout had brought him into the club to begin with. Kit had told us all the story about how Lock had shown up with Butcher one day. And we were all glad that he never left. "Would you be willing to keep training me?" I asked.

His brows rose. "I wouldn't have a problem with that. You have to check with your old man, though. Clear it through him."

It hadn't escaped my notice that the door to the gym was open. I also knew, just as Butcher did, that Riptide had installed cameras in here the night they brought the drugs in. The last thing either of us wanted was accusations that something was happening between us.

I loved Static. And though I also loved Butcher it was in the same way that I loved my brother, and Hellfire, and Smokehouse. Butcher was a friend and an adopted brother. And the last thing I wanted was for him and Static to be angry with each other because of me. "I'll talk to him first. I promise."

We sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes before Butcher stood up and extended a hand to me to help me up. I ripped the gloves off and let him pull me to my feet. I didn't bother to think through my actions. I hugged him. Ignoring the way his body stiffened in my embrace, I squeezed him tight. "Thank you, Butcher."

I let him go, gave a little wave, and all but floated out of the gym. This was the final piece of the puzzle that was Gwen. I'd been struggling to find the final thing that would help me feel like myself again. And now I had it. I was the woman I used to be. Before Trent. Before the attack. Grinning, I went in search of my biker. I had so much I wanted to tell him.

CHAPTER 34

Static

Iheld up my hand in recognition as Hush and Priest turned to check on the rest of us. We were finally on our way to do this. It had taken a couple of days for me to get everything situated, but Rip and I had checked the USB. Everything I'd need to prosecute Fremont was on there. We were driving across town to meet up with the assistant district attorney who worked under Fremont. He took care of the majority of Fremont's cases, while Fremont had more of a supervisory role over him. It would help to have the man on our side when the time came to prosecute Fremont.

We weighed the possibility that he and Fremont were working together, but nothing on the USB indicated he was a part of it. As far as we knew, this was all Fremont. If we could get the assistant DA on board, it would hold a lot of weight in court. Either way, it was worth the risk.

I'd already spoken to my partners at our law office and they were willing to take the heat to get this done. Going after a district attorney could sink a law firm, but the evidence we had was so airtight they were more than happy to work with me on this one. They didn't mind loaning me out to a prosecutor to make sure I could help all the charges stick. I also contacted the US Attorney General and spoke with his assistant. He'd be giving me a call any day about all this. A copy of the information on the drive was already in his inbox, waiting to be opened. Fremont was fucked.

This was going to be finished in the court of law, the place I thrived. And it may not be as exciting as a huge blow out, but at least my family would be safe. Butcher was beyond pissed that he wasn't going to get to personally choke Fremont to death, but he'd figure out a way to live with it.

Our club was riding in formation, about to meet with Julian Sikes, the assistant DA, before we went to the police station where David Torres was assigned and turned everything over to him. I already warned Julian not to tell Carl—Fremont's personal assistant—anything about this meeting. It was a risk bringing Sikes into this, but one that was worth taking. The information on the drive was already in the right hands, so even if something made it impossible for me to take him down, Fremont wouldn't be able to wiggle off the hook.

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