Page 30 of Biker Bride (Hell on Heelz MC)

I grinned, though it probably looked more like a grimace. "Hell yeah, I can. I’ve missed this too damn much."

We straddled our bikes, and the familiar roar of the engine beneath me felt like a long-lost friend. The pain in my ribs was nothing compared to the joy of being back on my Harley. As we pulled out of the airport parking lot, I took a deep breath, letting the familiar smells of gas and asphalt fill my lungs.

The ride back to the Roost was exactly what I needed. Every bump and turn reminded me of who I was—Sybil "Psycho" James, a proud member of the Hell on Heelz MC. I wasn’t some trophy wife in a silk dress. I was a badass biker chick, born to ride and fight. The farther we got from the airport, the more the tension in my chest eased. Vince and his twisted world were far behind me, and I was riding toward my real family, my real life.

Mudflaps kept pace beside me, her presence making me feel secure. We rode through the streets, the scenery blurring as I focused on the road ahead. The pain in my ribs was a constant reminder of everything that had happened, but it was also a testament to my resilience. Once again, I’d survived, and I was stronger for it.

By the time we reached the Roost, I was exhausted but exhilarated. The sight of the clubhouse brought a smile to my face. This was home, where I belonged. We pulled into the lot,the familiar sounds of laughter and music greeting us. As I killed the engine and swung my leg over the bike, a wave of relief washed over me. I was back in my rightful place.

Mudflaps and I made our way inside, the warmth and noise of the Roost enveloping us like a hug. My sisters gave us big hugs and cheers, showing they were worried but glad we were okay. I was home, and nothing else mattered.

Tank, despite her own injuries, hobbled over to me with a grin. "Look what the cat dragged in."

I laughed, wincing at the pain but not caring. "Miss me?"

"Like a hole in the head," she teased, but her eyes were soft. "Glad you're back, Psycho."

We made our way to Rage's office. I had a lot to explain, and I needed to make sure my sisters knew everything. Vince’s world might have been full of lies and manipulation, but here, I had to be honest. For the sake of my club, for the sake of my unborn child, and for my own sanity.

As we stepped into the office, Rage looked up, her eyes narrowing. "If it isn’t our prodigal sister." She was full of shit as she rounded her desk and hugged me carefully.

I filled my lungs with air, readying myself for what lay ahead. "I've got a hell of a story to tell."

She nodded, her expression serious. "Then let's hear it."

As I began to recount everything that had happened, from Vince’s proposal to the mafia’s plans, I felt a whole hell of a lot lighter. I was back with my family, back in the world where I belonged. And no matter what came next, I knew I could handle it. Because I was Psycho, and I was a Heel.

Chapter 20

That night, I moved back in with Raven and Pixie at the Roost, feeling a strange combo of comfort and jitters. My undisturbed room gave me a sense of security, but thoughts of Vince consumed me as I lay in bed. His touch, his voice, the way he took charge in the bedroom—all of it haunted me. I couldn't get rid of the memories of our private moments and how demanding his presence was.

I felt like a fool for not being more careful with my birth control. And what was worse, I was suspicious, fearing Vince may have tampered with it and that this was his plan all along. Now, I was carrying his child. Holy shit.

Honestly, I worried about what kind of life I had doomed my child to. Growing up in the madness of a biker gang would be one bad thing, but having a father connected to the mafia added another layer of dangerous shit. I didn't wish for that for my baby.

I thought about my own family, how they had pushed me into pageants and acting, made it seem like what I’d wanted. How they had never been there when I needed them most. Not since my breakdown. I knew I didn't want them to be within ten feet of my child. I wanted to break the cycle of dysfunction and give my baby a chance at a better life.

The next morning, I went back to the fern farm to ask for my job back. Old man Mather's office smelled like earth and plants, refreshing to me. When I walked in, he raised his head from his papers and his eyes softened with recognition.

"Sybil, good to see you. What brings you back?" he asked, taking off his reading glasses. “Big order from the new husband, I hope.”

I took a deep breath, my hands fidgeting nervously. "I need my job back. I'm pregnant and... the guy turned out to be a real dick. I'm not married, unfortunately."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "You can work in the front office. We'll make it work."

Relief washed over me, and I thanked him profusely. The front office wasn't as physically demanding, and I needed something stable while I figured out my next steps.

The typical wild party was in full swing that night at the Roost. The music was bumping, and it reeked of beer and sweat. I reached for a drink out of habit, but Raven stopped me, her eyes stern.

"Don't forget, you can't have a drink."

"Fuck," I muttered, realizing she was right. Frustrated, I left the party altogether, needing some air and space to think.

The next month at the Roost was a blur of routine and trying to find some semblance of normalcy. I worked at the fern farm during the day and spent my nights at the clubhouse, trying to stay out of trouble. Vince texted me daily, but I never answered. Each message was a reminder of the mess I was in, and I couldn't bring myself to face it.

One night, alone in my room, I decided to read through his texts. They started off simple, asking how I was, telling me he missed me. But as the days went on, the messages became more desperate, more pleading. He said he was sorry, that he loved me, that he needed to talk to me.

Day 1:

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