Page 40 of Seizing Control: Part One

God, I want to scream that at him.

Right in his face.

Over and over.

Until I lose my voice.

If I could go back to the morning that Alex was released, I would tell Zeke that I knew about the letters. I’d confess that I wasn’t doing as well as I was pretending. I’d force him to tell me the truth about everything so we could preserve the relationship we’d built over five years of struggle and devotion.

At least, I think I would...

Because as I contemplate returning to the blissful ignorance I existed within little more than six months ago, my stomach gets a funny feeling. A vague fluttering. Slight nausea mixed with foreboding and something akin to rejection. It’s accompanied with memories of Slash. His constant support. The way he slotted in with us like a missing piece. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see how deeply he’s loved me for years.

Not platonically like Cub, Toker, Hunter, Isaiah, and my biological brothers.

Romantically.

I’ve spent Valentine’s day with him.

Bared my soul.

Ridden bitch behind him.

Fawned over his victories.

Commiserated his losses.

Turned to him whenever I needed wisdom.

And he’s done the same with me to almost the same degree.

With Zeke’s specific brand of love in the mix, my heart has been protected by two men. I’ve been adored in all the ways a woman needs, to the point where I feel bad that only one of those men has reaped the same rewards from me. It must’ve killed Slash to watch me with his best friend, yet he did it without complaint for five years. He could’ve sabotaged us since we sure gave him dozens of opportunities, especially in the early days when I was healing inside and out from my trauma, but he never did.

Would I truly go back in time if I could?

The answer in the pit of my stomach is no.

“Oh, it’s urgent all right, little Cherub.” Dad’s remark jolts me out of my head.

I allow myself one final glance at Zeke before I steel myself for the upcoming confrontation. Wishes are for fools, and I quit being a fool the moment Alex breached the (not-so) safe house and I pumped a magazine’s worth of bullets into him. Confusion about the future aside, I’m cognisant that I must meet my father head on today if I’m to protect the men I love and the club I adore.

When my father leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his stomach, I scowl at him. The stupid plaster bandages that he’s worn on his cheeks for months lift as he smirks at me. My fingertips itch with the desire to rip them from his face, to display the scars I know he’s trying to hide, then gouge his eyes out with my fingernails. Rather than give into the urge, I curl my fingers into fists and deepen my glare.

“I learnt somethin’ rather disturbin’ last night.”

Rolling my eyes, I retort, “Did you just?”

My smart watch buzzes on my wrist. I touch my phone, and Zeke sneaks a glimpse of my screen. I hit the side button to hide the message preview from him. The text from Nadia confirming that she’s taken over “keep Isaiah from the clubhouse until his patching-in ceremony” duty is none of Zeke’s business. Likewise, he doesn’t need to know that I’ve sent her on a side mission to track down the whereabouts of the Blackards SMC during their visit to Perth.

In this situation, I have my own pride to protect.

So, while I’m not proud of my need to size up the competition, I plan on laying eyes on Ms. Brunette with Purple Tulip Tattoos as soon as I’m able. My plan past that point isn’t solid, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to ensure she understands the lay of the land.

Two men possess my heart.

It’ll take a special kind of woman to take my place in either of theirs.

That might make me a hypocrite of the highest order and selfish as fuck, since I need to remain platonic with them both.

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