Page 82 of Seizing Control: Part One

“Marshmallow corpse fire,” I cackle at the same time as Toker exclaims, “You’ll stay the fuck away from my bears.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” my best friend tells my cousin. “Now piss off—and take all the swingin’ dicks with you. This is a Moscato & Monet kinda Hen’s night.”

“Told ya we were only gonna show our faces as a show of support. Not one man here is willin’ to risk stickin’ around once y’all pull your needles out.”

“Good to know you have a modicum—” Nadia holds her thumb and index fingers a hair width’s apart. “—of self-preservation.”

“Jesus Christ.” Toker runs his palm over his buzzcut. “You’re impossible tonight.”

I’m impossible every night,” she retorts.

I laugh as we watch my cousin round up the men.

“Hoo-roo.” Nadia waves as they traipse out after Toker. “Don’t let the door hit you in the arse.”

One of the last to leave is Isaiah—I mean, Meeyal. His new road name patch as well as the patch denoting him as the Shamrocks “Watchman” are shiny compared to the rest of his cut. The brown-skinned man offers me a look filled with sympathy. While Nadia bosses everyone around, I cock my head to the side and frown at him. There’s something in his gaze, unconcealed protectiveness, a bleak shiftiness, a deep well of regret. It makes my skin prick with dread. Turns my high into a downer.

“Have fun, Anna,” he tells me. I startle at his use of my abbreviated first name. He usually calls me Cherub like the rest of the Shamrocks. “You deserve it.”

“I… uh, thanks?”

He steps closer to me, and I barely resist my flinch when he runs the back of his knuckles along my jaw, from my ear to the edge of my mouth. “Things will work out... remember that.”

“Okay.”

Now that I know who Gabriel really is, I find myself rethinking everything I know about his sons. There’s no way Apollo and Meeyal are clueless as to their true legacy. A rock star and a biker. Those roles aren’t exactly conductive to taking over from their dad when the time comes. They made conscious choices to step away from their heritage.

I want to know why they would do that.

It’s an alien concept to me.

I’ve spent my life finding a way to eke out a role in a culture that has no room for me, yet they’ve willing stepped away from the traditions that dictate their existence.

It’s either brave or reckless.

I guess time will provide the answer...

“I want you to know that that’s a promise.”

I quirk my lips to hide my confusion at Meeyal’s enigmatic vow. “I appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate what you’re doin’ for us all.”

Meeyal’s softly spoken words of gratitude are the closest anyone has come to acknowledging the harsh facts surrounding my wedding. For days, it’s been danced around. Preparations made under the guise that the impending celebration is for a love-match.

But it isn’t.

I might love Slash.

We may match perfectly in too many ways to count.

That doesn’t make this marriage real.

Until he surprised me with the ceremony at the compound, I’d never seen myself wed to anyone other than Zeke. Part of me still doesn’t. I don’t feel married, despite the ring adorning my finger. My goal is to play pretend until Zeke comes to his senses and rescinds his guilty plea. It’s either that or I spend the upward of twenty-five years pining for the man who sacrificed his life for mine while sleeping uneasily next to his best friend.

Neither option is optimal.

With my high turned upside down by reality’s intrusion, I do my best to meet Meeyal’s searching gaze. “I’m barely doin’ a thing… between Crystal, Slash, and Zeke, it seems like everyone else is paying a higher price than I am.”

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