Page 55 of Seizing Control: Part Two

He wheels around on me, uncustomary wrath in his eyes.

Toker shoves me in return.

I stumble backward a step as he snarls, “Do. Not. Take. Your. Guilt. Out. On. Me.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Nah...” Toker drawls as he pulls his helmet on. “Fuck you. I’ve held my tongue, followed you around Australia while you’ve tried to outrun ya demons. But I’m done. You keep actin’ like a giant douchebag, and I’ll call a vote for ya patch. Pretty sure I could get a fuckin’ sack of flour voted in over you, right now.”

With unconcealed fury, I watch him mount his biker, then peel off in a cloud of smoke and rubber. As is his way once he’s reached his breaking point, Toker can’t disappear without the final word, so he flips me the bird before turning right at the next thoroughfare. I follow shortly after, except I have to go straight, while the rest of the club went in opposite directions.

It feels like an indictment of our current state.

I’m charging toward an inevitable showdown with the woman I love. The rest of my club brothers are turning away from me to avoid getting caught in the crossfire once again. My gut has been warning me since the night Lazarus sent me the photo of Cherub, my son, and her round belly that he’s been moving in on my territory in my absence.

The sole boon is my wife’s open and honest communication.

She answers my questions.

Props up my flagging ego.

Makes me feel wanted.

When I’m communicating with her, my plan to give her access to her restored trust account and offer her a divorce feels like the right move. It’s when I’m alone that the doubts kick in. I know Cherub isn’t sleeping with Lazarus while I’m gone—there’s no way he’s revealed himself to her yet. Lazarus cut a deal with Gabriel that is clear and unbreakable, and I’ve done my best to make sure it remains iron clad regardless of any changes in Lazarus’ plans. So far, the Adjudicator has seemed amendable. His easy compliance with my requests for more time are a bonus I’m intent on maintaining.

In addition to the massacre at the Brisbane docks, I’ve taken on four more jobs.

I’ve kowtowed to the Trinity while I was in Sydney.

Met with Ronni on multiple occasions.

Used my math skills to clean up the money I’ve liberated from the Maddison clan.

Despite knowing that my wife wouldn’t disrespect her vows, it still feels good to have precautions in place. Her soft spot for Venom will surely transfer to Lazarus. Their bond is indestructible. It’s survived everything the world has thrown at it so far, so a some lies and a fake death aren’t going to get between them for too long.

That thought stalks me the entire ride home...

Heeding Toker’s advice, I hit the kill switch and roll to a stop at the end of my street. I leave my Harley parked in front of the security service we’ve hired to supplement the prospects who keep watch on my family. On foot, I walk up to the gate. Wyatt is on front yard duty this morning, which is a good thing because he lets me in without asking any questions.

“Need me to bring your bike into the yard?”

“Yeah.” I nod, then toss him the black fob that’ll deactivate the security system. “That’d be good.”

“I’ll get it done right away.”

Once I’m inside the house, I begin to feel sick. So many things have been added to my home during my absence. A baby play mat sits in the middle of the living room floor. A bunch of bottles line the sink. A steriliser with pacifiers and teats floating in it takes up part of the kitchen counter. The house even smells different.

The stairs creak beneath my feet.

I edge along the hallway.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Almost like I’m bracing for disappointment...

Lump in my throat, a weird emptiness in the middle of my chest, I draw in a deep breathe, then gradually exhale as I turn the door handle to enter the master bedroom. It’s empty. The bed is neatly made. A slate-grey comforter is pulled tight over my mattress. Every sign that Cherub once shared the space with me is gone. Removed. Like a surgeon’s incision. The precision with which she’s stripped away her presence is clinical.

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