Page 20 of What Lies Within

Her father's dark and critical gaze flickers over me, but there's no ill intent. A gentle jaw and delicate chin soften the harshness of her features, and fuller lips invite curiosity but don't overwhelm her face like half the artificial beauties across social media. Gentle waves add body to her dark blonde hair—pulled back in a thick, loose braid—but the strands don't appear colored. Just lightened by time in the sun.

“Can I ask you a question?” My fingers flex and roll the edge of the pillow.

“Sure.” She sets a palm to the comforter, leaning her weight closer.

“What’s your future here?”

Jamie pulls back as though offended.

"Did that not come out right?" I frown. "I just— I meant, what's a woman's place in a club dominated by male roles?"

She swallows, slow and loud. “You’re asking why I’m not a property bitch?”

"A what—no." I bury my face in one hand. "Jesus. Forget I spoke. I'm sorry."

Her gentle fingers on my knee nearly have me leap off the bed. "It's okay. It's a fair question for an outsider."

An outsider.The fears and doubts that brought me up here in the first place bubble in my chest, a hot, boiling pit of pain. I flare my nostrils, bringing the pillow up to meet my chin and hoping the sense of security will stave off my frustrated tears.

Fuck, I’m sick of crying.But I know why I do, and I know that no matter how many hours I sit here reciting positive affirmations to myself, proving my critical inner voice wrong, it won’t change a thing.

For the next week, I’ll hate myself no matter what. And there’s only one thing that can end that.

“If Mom hadn’t died, I don’t think I’d be a part of the club like I am,” Jamie states, unaware of my internal meltdown. “Dad had no choice: either he raised me here—where he could keep an eye on me—and kept his place in the club, or he gave us both up.”

“Both?” Does she have a sibling?

“The club and me.” She turns her head and pins me with an apathetic stare. “The Reapers keep us fed and housed. If he’d walked away, handed in his patch, he wouldn’t have been able to provide for me, and the state would have taken me from his care."

“But the state left you in the care of a known criminal anyway?” The government fucking confuses me sometimes.

Jamie grins. "Daddy ain't ever been booked. No record means nothing to go on should anyone want to push his association with the Reapers."

“How the fuck does he manage that?” I laugh, awkward and unsure if it’s the right thing to do.

Given her smile, it's okay. "He was a cop once." Her hand slices through the air, dismissing this fact as though it's not innately curious. "Anyway. The reason why I came up here…"

I offer a flat smile, pulling the pillow close again.

“Maddie will be okay.” Her downcast gaze belies her words. “She’s tough, and she can hold her own.”

"Doesn't mean shit when your opponent is stronger than you." Flashes of my fiancé force my eyes to shutter, and I frown until the memories fit back into the box I assigned them. “Why do you think he has her?”

“Fox?”

I nod.

Jamie rises from the bed and wanders across to the set of drawers. "I don't know." She lifts my hairbrush and aligns it better with the small container of clips beside it. "Are you worried it's because of you?"

I twist and rise to sit cross-legged. “Makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.” She smoothes her palms along the front of the timber as though brushing away any lingering dust. “Growin’ up under the feet of these men taught me a few things, and one of those is nothing’s ever guaranteed. Safety, peace, promises. There’s always someone trying to best someone else, and when they lose, those grudges last years.” She turns to meet my eye. “Sometimes decades.”

“So, you’re saying this could be over some shit that went down a fucking long time ago.”

“They have a lot of history.” Jamie spins, resting her palms against the drawers behind her and leaning on them. “You hungry?”

“Not really.”

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