Page 78 of What Lies Within

I look left, and lock gazes with the man I appreciate most in this confusing new world.

Tyke falters at the top of the steps. Hammer passes by and gives me a tight nod as he disappears into the clubhouse with the rest of the crew.

I don't know what to say or what he needs to hear. How do you reassure someone that the vengeance they dealt was justified when meted out against a family member?

Tyke opens his mouth as though to speak, yet his words fail him. His gaze drops first, then his chin, as though he's ashamed—it kills me to see the pride ripped from him. To recognize the regret painted clear as day in the curl of his shoulders.

Nothing I say will negate the shit in his head. No reassurances will tear the pain from his heart.

So, I do the only thing I can and wrap my arms around him, poised on that top step. He sighs, breath shuddering at the tail end, and drops his head to my shoulder. One hand after the other, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me toward him, crushing me in his embrace.

I cling to the damn man as though the slightest ease of pressure means he’ll fly away from me. Fuck—maybe he will? I don’t give us a chance to find out, determined that if nothing else, I can reassure Tyke he’s still worth loving, no matter what he’s had to do.

"I'm so glad you're back," I murmur against his chest, throat tightening with the reminder that there was a very real chance he could have never returned.

“Me too, baby girl.” His words vibrate against my shoulder. “Me too.”

His broad hand coasts down my back, a grumble vibrating in his throat as he grabs a handful of my ass and hitches me tight against him. Warm lips find the column of my neck, dotting a path behind my ear. Tyke finishes with his face nuzzled against me, nose buried in my hair, and I fight the tear that threatens to fall at the absolute perfection of the moment.

All I’ve ever wanted was to give people comfort. To offer the hope that few have for me.

All I want is to know when I'm old and done with this world that I was someone's reason to heal, to grow, and to be the person they deserved to be.

And in the arms of a motorcycle club president, I find that hope.

My reason to stay.

My reason to keep trying, no matter how hard the days ahead promise to be.

Hand traveling to the lengths of hair at Tyke’s nape, I grip him to me and utter the words I spoke earlier. “I love you. As youare, as you have been, and as everything you promise to be. I loveeveryversion of you, Tyke.”

"Fuck, baby." His fingers tighten against my body, face pressed hard against my hair. He takes two short breaths as though to compose himself and utters the words that cleave my heart in two, "I rode back here with one truth in my mind, Rae. That I need you. Like I need fuckin' air to breathe. And I don't ever want that feelin' to stop." He pulls back, a hand gripped in my hair, to study my face. "I got business I need to deal with, but after that, it's you and me, baby girl. It's you and me and nothin' else in this world until the fuckin' sun comes up, and I get another twenty-four hours to show you why I’m fuckin’ grateful to call you mine.”

31

TYKE

Church is sacrosanct. An act of unifying the men deemed strong enough to rule a one percent club and giving them the platform that they need to discuss matters that shape the future of the people who wear the colors. A platform private enough that the general membership isn’t concerned with problems that may never come to pass or influenced by the knowledge of what said officers do in the name of keeping the peace.

Said officers like me.

But church has always been that—a holy space kept separate from the rest of the club activities. A sacred room that only those deemed worthy enough may enter.

The segregation never sat well with me. I understand it, but I don’t feel it.

Sure, the badge on my chest says that I have the final word—that it's my choice to keep the peace or send us into war.

But the hive mind of these men around me ensures I stay true to my path. That I don't let emotion or prejudice guide my hand, and the best interests of all arealwaysat the forefront of every decision.

Which is why I threw conventions out the window after taking the gavel and turned the previous meeting room into the fucking laundry Lou Ann always wanted, inviting the men into my space instead.

A space where we sit as equals. Nobody at the head. Nobody unheard at the end. We face one another and fucking nut this shit out like men should—together.

Only today, that exact position leaves me feeling vulnerable as I sit under the scrutiny of the men I call brothers.

Truebrothers.

Especially when my blood brother put me in this fucking position of hell.

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