Page 21 of Festive

But thishasto happen.

Be the hard president you’re meant to be, Six.

Don’t let her make you feel guilty.

“There’s a difference between relying on someone as a friend and being dependent on them for too much,” I snap, the words cold, sharp—exactly what she needs to hear.

“So, you think I’m using you?” she shoots back, her voice trembling with the weight of the question, and fuck, it hits me right in the gut.

“Amber, this type of conversation isn’t going to go anywhere.” I hold her gaze. Tears shimmer in her eyes, and my chest tightens in response, but I keep pushing through. “I see you’re upset. I understand you don’t want to leave, but I think this is best for you, and for the club, in the long run. We’re doingeverythingwe can for you. But, if you don’t want this offer of the apartment, the only alternative is for you to pack your shit and leave…now!”

Her eyes widen with my clear and unveiled threat. The silence hangs heavy, suffocating, before she finally blinks and nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll take the apartment,” her voice barely a whisper now.

I nod, trying to hide the relief that flutters in my chest. “Good. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” I turn to walk away, feeling the weight of the conversation lift, but just as I’m about to make my exit, her hand clutches my arm, fingers tight around my forearm, like she’s trying to keep me here—trying to make me listen.

Hesitating, I turn slowly, glancing down at her grip on my arm. She’s quick to pull it away, the gesture almost apologetic as she swallows a lump down her throat. “I’m sorry, Six,” she whimpers, but there’s something raw in it. “I didn’t mean to step out of line like that. I just… I love living here. But… I’ll go start packing.”

And just like that, the final nail is in the coffin.

It’s done.

Exhaling, I dip my chin, saying nothing more. I turn, walking off toward Rebel, who is standing, watching the interaction with bated breath. Striding up to my Old Lady, I pull her into a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around me fully, and I inhale her fruity scent, holding onto her with all I have.

“You okay? That seemed intense,” she asks, clearly concerned.

Huffing out a breath, I pull back and look into her beautiful eyes. “That whole conversation was a fucking shit show, but I told Amber she’s moving out into an apartment we’re renting for her, so she won’t be at the clubhouse anymore. We’re gonna furnish it for her and pay the rent until she can get on her feet with the new job, then, we’re cutting ties completely. In the meantime, to make me feel better about her being out there on her own, Neon traced Bradley’s location, and we’re gonna go find him. Make it so she doesn’t have toworryabout him anymore.”

Rebel widens her eyes like she’s impressed by these new developments. “Well, from the sounds of it, this can only be a good thing all around. I’m proud of you, baby.”

Exhaling, I place my hand on her stomach and lean in, kissing her. “How’s he doing in there?”

Rebel smiles. “He’s doing just fine. You do whatever you have to do. We’ll be here… eating all the gingerbread.”

Smirking, I press my lips to hers again and then pull back.“Okay, gotta go… we need to find this Bradley fucker, deal with him, so I can come back home to you… and your gingerbread.”

She grins, her fingers gently caressing the back of my scalp. “Go get ’em, Six.”

I press my lips to hers briefly one more time before pulling back and winking at her.

Turning on my heel, I stalk over to Neon, Phantom, Texas, and Chains. I don’t need to say much—just tilt my head toward the front door of the clubhouse and mutter, “Mount up, brothers… we’re going hunting.”

Their chuckles echo like the low growl of a pack ready for blood. The tension crackles as we stride outside, passing Zero, Wraith, and Scout. They’re moving product, handling club business, but my business is different tonight—darker.

“Hey, Zero,” I call, my voice hard as steel. “We’re heading out to get Bradley. You good here?”

Zero nods, never missing a beat. “I got this. You take care ofbusiness.” His tone leaves no room for misunderstanding—he knows exactly what kind ofbusinessI’m handling tonight.

I grip his shoulder, a silent exchange of trust between us, then I turn and head for my bike. Throwing my leg over the leather seat, the familiar weight of the machine grounds me as the engine roars to life. The sound rattles in my chest. A call to arms. Neon takes the lead, and I follow, the wind whipping through my hair as we ride hard for over half an hour.

There’s something so freeing about the open road. Knowing that you’re riding into a storm. With the men at my back to support me no matter what will come with Bradley, I know that whatever chaos is about to unfold, these men, these brothers, have my six.

They always do becausethatis what Defiance is all about.

The house we pull up to is tucked away, its long driveway hidden from prying eyes.

Perfect for what we need to do—no witnesses, no interference.

We park at the end and dismount, walking the rest of the way, guns drawn, eyes sharp.

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