Page 93 of The Oath We Take

So, I’m officially clueless.

I lower my weapon and reholster it. I suppose this is it. The moment of reckoning I fully deserve.

“Butcher. Wraith. What the fuck, brothers? You scared the shit out of me. Phone call like that, I thought the clubhouse was under attack or some shit.”

“In a way, it is,” Butcher says cryptically. “Take a seat.”

The making of a man is in how he handles the darkest moments. But I have startling clarity. I won’t be the first man who has fallen for the wrong woman, though I have a strong feeling my consequences will be worse than most.

But all I need to remember is Ember isn’t the wrong woman.

She’s the most right woman there has ever been. And while I wish I had more time as just the two of us before the world knew about us, I’m as sure in my decision as I could be.

No amount of time could make me want Ember as my wife any more than I do now.

But I decide to play it cool.

I don’t know why Wraith won’t meet my eyes, but I do as Butcher says and sit down at the bar next to him.

“You want to tell me what this is about?” I ask.

Butcher stubs out the end of his cigarette as he blows a solid stream of smoke into the air. “The Outlaws were created because the founding members believed in one fundamental guiding principle. That the men of this world should be able to create a brotherhood that supported each other in one goal…a life outside the rules, built to their own design.”

I know this, but as Butcher says the words, it chafes at me that I see a double standard. If I could create a life by my own design, then Ember is my old lady, my wife, the mother of my children. But in this instance, this isn’t what Butcher means.

“I know this. Why are you telling me?”

The feeling in the pit of my stomach grows. I don’t know what I expected when he found out. But fists were the thing I would have preferred to this soliloquy, because he’s creeping me out.

“Inherent to that was an honor code built on trust. Trust for your brother, that you would have his back, at all times and above all things.”

I’m embarrassed to admit I consider concocting a plan to lie. To hide what Ember and I have been doing. But there is an equally strong part of me that just wants the truth out there. So I can claim her publicly and bring taking her as my old lady to the table for a vote.

Can’t wait to see her wearing aProperty of Atompatch.

But a memory hits me…my grandpa looking at some legal documents when I was a child. His words sound strongly in my mind, although I am certain they were accompanied by a Marcus Aurelius quote that I can’t recall.

Don’t answer their questions, boy—make them tell you what they know, first.

I’m making a huge assumption. While this seems like a court with Butcher as judge and Wraith as executioner, this may not be about Ember and me at all.

“I know all this about the history of the club. I heard it from my grandpa and my dad. My question is, why are you telling me all this, and why won’t you make eye contact with me, Wraith?”

Wraith finally looks up and meets my gaze. Devastation is etched in the corners of his eyes and the wrinkles across his brow. The man looks like he hasn’t slept for a week.

Guess he wasn’t home with Raven the same way I was with Ember.

And I suddenly feel sick.

Wraith tips his head in the direction of church. “There’s something underneath the table in front of your seat.”

Butcher shifts to stare at me. “Go look, then come back and tell me what you find.”

It’s an odd request, not at all what I was expecting, but I do as he asks. My grandpa donated this wood to the club to become the table for church. Two huge slabs cut from the same tree felled on our property. A storm had taken it down, leaving it upended with its huge root ball on display.

Grandpa polished both sides of the large slabs by hand.

I once asked him why he did the underside that no one would see.

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