Page 37 of Tyrant

I’ve studied my daughter for quite some time, drinking her up, looking for myself in her features. She’s too young to fully understand grief. I think she’s more afraid of her mom’s silent tears and the obvious distress around her than she is of anything else. She might not even understand that her grandma is gone now and that she’ll never see her again.

Fuck. I want to turn around and ram my fist into the rough bark of the tree at my back. I don’t want this for her. Don’t want it for Lark or Raiden or even Henry. Living the life we live, we expect that we might not grow old. In most clubs, that’s the way it works. Men make enemies and having enemies means living with threats and danger. We live hard every single day because longevity isn’t in our vocabulary. But Mabel? She should have lived a long life yet. I know no one is owed it, but watching my best friend struggling to hold it together, seeing Lark pale and broken, watching my daughter who I can’t even go over and hold, makes me wish I could fight against the universe and win.

Lark is so pale that she looks like a living corpse standing beside that open grave. I don’t like the color of her skin, worse than chalk. A warning inside me sparks and my heavy boots are already making their way across grass still damp from the sprinklers that morning, before Lark’s legs buckle.

Penny muffles her scream behind her hand and Raiden moves fast, putting his arm in front of her to shield her and reaching for his sister. He looks around for danger and realizes that there’s nothing external at the same time my arms close around Lark’s waist. I haul her against me lifting her up into my arms.

She looks up at me, dazed and unfocused with those swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Her cheeks are puffy from all the tears.

Seeing her like this is a hammer straight to my glass heart.

“Taking her home,” I grunt like a beast.

Raiden nods. He gets down in front of Penny, while the rest of the guests shuffle uneasily, looking at each other. Henry is blank. He probably doesn’t even realize what day or time it is. Raiden slips his keys into my palm. I dip into my pocket and pull out the ones for my bike. We don’t exchange a word because we don’t need to.

He’s already assuring Penny that her mom is okay. Telling her that she hasn’t eaten or slept for a few days because she was missing Grandma so much and she just needs to sit down, have some juice and have a nap.

Raiden’s amazing with my daughter. He knows what to say when I would have stood there like an imbecile, anger flowingthrough me, wanting to murder the world, sick at the fact that I could ultimately do nothing to make anything better.

Raiden had given me an idea of what had been going on while I purposely stayed away, burying myself in planning for our upcoming ride, the party after, our next cookout, meeting with the city council again about low-income housing, and checking with my brothers about all the regular club stuff. He had dropped in over the past few days to give updates about the club’s books and finances, even though I told him not to bother. I knew he wouldn’t listen. He needed to be busy the same way I did.

Every second of my day had been spent wishing I could be with Lark and Penny, checking on them, providing for them, supporting them. Just being there, even if it meant being silent and just holding them. It wasn’t my place and I kept away to respect the family’s grief, but as I open the door of Raiden’s ancient fucker of a truck and slip Lark inside, it feels like something has snapped inside me.

I’m done staying away. I’m done not taking care of my woman. Only an idiot lets a good woman slip away.Twice. I’m not going to pressure Lark into anything, but I am going to take care of her and when she’s ready, I’m going to make my intentions clear again.

Lark stares straight ahead on the way home. She’s recovered enough that she doesn’t look like she’s going to faint again, but she stares straight ahead like a zombie. I don’t even see her blink, but I’m also focused on grinding the gears just enough to get us back to her parents’ house.

Parent. Jesus Christ.

When I open her door, I try to get her on her feet just because I don’t think she’ll appreciate being carried again and I want to respect her and her dignity, but she wraps her arms around my neck, digging her nails in like she’s afraid I’ll leave her again.

She melts against me as I pick her up, but it’s me melting on the inside. All the hard parts of me are soft.

The door’s unlocked, which I didn’t think to even ask Raiden about, so I take Lark straight to the kitchen. I set her down on the counter where I can support her with one hand and make fast work of getting her a glass of orange juice. Raiden was right. Getting some sugar into her is a must. Some food too.

There’s a loaf of bread on the counter. I take two slices out and pop them into the toaster.

Her hand trembles as she sips at the juice, she still hasn’t said a word and just seems numb.

The toaster pops. I spread margarine on thick followed by peanut butter and jelly and pass the slice over before it has time to get cold. Lark always hated that, when it was cold and crisp and frigid.

I don’t like the way she eats, like she’s not even aware of her surroundings or what she’s doing. She chews and swallows methodically, but at least it’s getting down.

I eat the other slice myself when she shakes her head.

I think that she’s not aware of me cleaning up and putting things back, but when I come to stand in front of her dangling knees, she parts her legs for me, making space. Not in a sexual way, though my dick is a fucking asshole and immediately gets hard at the proximity. It makes me feel like a cunt.

Her lips tremble into a smile and she lets out a small laugh that startles the hell out of me. At first I’m worried she noticed my cock straining against the front of my pants, but her eyes are locked on my face and then she brushes a few crumbs out of my beard.

If I knew that could make her laugh and bring her back, I would have slathered the whole thing over my face. Got up on the counter and done a stupid dance, told her the corniest jokes, twerked in this goddamn suit.Anythingfor her.

“I’m such a terrible bitch,” she whispers in her choked and broken voice.

I tuck my finger under her chin even though she’s already looking at me. “Don’t say that. You’re a queen, Lark. A fucking queen.”

A faint blush paints her cheeks, giving her a little bit of color. “I took your daughter away from you. I hurt you. You were my Gray, the man I loved more than anything in the world, but that’s just words. I left you. Actions talk a big game, and my actions say that I’m a selfish, judgmental bitch.”

“Your actions say that you’re a strong woman, you were trying to do best by your daughter. Our daughter.”

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