Page 165 of Seizing Control: Part One

Instead, I’m drunk and bleary-eyed as I half-listen to their discussion. My brain can’t seem to concentrate because it’s locked in a battle with my heart over the idea that I should ride back home and show my wife exactly how I feel about her ditching me two months ago.

My fingers curl and uncurl as I imagine the feel of her racing pulse beneath my palm.

I could collar her, squeeze until she can’t breathe, bring her to her knees, then...

“We’ll meet them at Ceduna—make the exchange with our border brothers.” I shake myself to evict the carnal image my imagination is building from my head. “You can check their books while—” Duke turns his attention to Cub just as a roar goes up amongst the brothers closer to the entrance. “—we have a chat with?—”

As the ruckus swallows up the rest of his directive, he grinds to a halt. One glance over his shoulder, and Duke’s on his feet. I watch Toker’s father stride away with a smile on his craggy face. He shoves one of our club brothers out of his way, then I lose sight of him as he’s followed by a bunch of noisy bikers celebrating the newcomer’s arrival with the kind of enthusiasm they usually save for patching-in ceremonies.

From my corner, tucked away in the shadows, I can’t see who’s arrived at the compound, but I can hazard a guess. My wife is the only person so universally beloved within the club. Everyone is happy to see her—apparently missing her almost as much as I have. Like a bunch of overexcited toddlers, they fill Cherub in on everything they’ve been up to in her absence. As one of the old timers whips out his wallet to show her a photograph of his newest grandchild, I realise that their collective enthusiasm is tempered somewhat by the hurt they feel over her sudden disappearance.

Still, my wife cops barely a tenth of the bullshit they gave me for vanishing for two weeks.

When my brain screams at me to go to her, to make my own feverish need to bask in her glow known as well, I curl my fingers into fists. My duchess made her choice when she ran from me two months ago. She left me, without so much as a note of explanation, while I was waiting to be bailed out. I tracked her belongings to Toker’s, then I lost her trail as it became clear that Cherub had vanished with assistance from outside of the Shamrocks.

Cub did his best to find her, but failed.

The Mayberry boys declined to get in the middle of our relationship.

My mother looked at me with a mixture of worry and disappointment.

Hunter shrugged like I deserved to be deserted whenever we crossed paths.

The old timers, my father included just watched me for signs that I’m unravelling, ready as ever to strip me of the only thing I have left now that Venom and my wife are gone. Their judgment is as infuriating as it is prophetic. My president patch feels temporary, at risk of vanishing at any moment too since it’s now common knowledge that Diablo is the rightful heir to the National chapter’s leadership.

He's the oldest son. Already a full patch, despites his chapter’s demotion from full chapter of the Black Shamrocks MC to a social feeder club in the Blackards SMC. Diablo’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to leave the life he’s created in Sydney.

But I’m still the second choice.

The substitute.

A tarnished silver lining.

In the midst of all the chaos and loss, the anniversary came back around. Grief swept me off my feet—adding to the confusion I’m battling over Venom’s current state and my heartbreak at my wife leaving. The past year caught up to me with the ferocity of a Category-Five Cyclone. It swept me off my feet, sent me spinning into a vortex of sorrow and rage, drowned me in my inadequacies and failures, and bounced my head off the rocks made up of my broken dreams.

My wife’s demand echoes around my skull.

“I want a divorce.”

Without Venom to protect any longer, our union is null-and-mother-fucking-void to Cherub. Her disappearance makes it obvious that she believes that I’m just another man who hurt her. Used her to the Shamrocks advantage. Broke her to make a point. Lilianna Mayberry ran from me before the ink was even dry on our marriage certificate—before she could even take my last name.

She left me.

Hid from me.

Rejected me.

In the weeks that have followed my wife’s demand for a divorce, I’ve drowned my emotions in alcohol. Avoided the home we once shared. Looked at the floor every time I passed the wall of remembrance in the clubhouse. Refused to acknowledge that my love isn’t enough to make up for the suffering I’ve caused my duchess. Did my best to deny that I’m as bad as Venom and Alex for her.

But, at night, my subconscious reminds me.

The memory of my wife’s catatonic state while I forced my dick inside her…

I shake myself before the remembrance can be accompanied by a visual reminder.

The only reason I haven’t gone completely mad is Nadia.

She’s made it clear that Cherub is safe—that she would return eventually.

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