Page 41 of Rogue’s Reckoning

"Nat," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. "Did you do this?"

Natalia smiles, her eyes shining. "My parents and I wanted to surprise you. We thought you and Wren should have a proper welcome home."

I'm speechless, overcome with emotion. After everything I've been through, to have this kind of love and support feels almost unreal.

"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice thick with tears. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you for all of this."

Natalia wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You don't have to repay anything. This is what family does."

Family. The word resonates in my heart. For so long, I've felt alone, cast aside. But here, with Natalia, and now with Wren, I've found a new kind of family.

TWELVE

ROGUE

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The bottle of whiskey sits half empty on the table in front of me, but I can barely feel its effects anymore. No amount of alcohol can numb the pain, the guilt, the constant ache of Willow's absence.

It's been a year since she disappeared, a year of sleepless nights and haunted days. Her face is etched into my mind—both the soft, loving smile she used to give me, and the look of betrayal and fear in her eyes the last time I saw her. I broke her. I see it every time I close my eyes. I broke the woman I love and there’s no coming back from that.

I take another long swig from the bottle, welcoming the burn in my throat. It's a poor substitute for the fire Willow used to ignite in me, but it's all I have left.

"Rogue," Ghost's voice cuts through my brooding. "You good, brother?"

I nod. He’s the only one who sits and shoots the shit with me these days. Since Willow’s gone, I'm always ready for a fight. The anger that simmers just beneath the surface is my constant companion, and I'm more than happy to let it loose on our enemies. The rage is just billowing, ready to explode at anymoment, and my brothers aren’t looking to be the ones who get on the wrong side of me.

Thankfully, Storm knows I need to let loose every so often and gives me jobs that mean I can get creative. The Hawks are gone. They haven’t resurfaced since we killed Ivy. We don’t know if they’ve moved on and tried their luck elsewhere or if they’re biding their time. But they’re not fucking with us, nor have they done for the past year.

"I’m good," I lie, my voice rough from disuse and whiskey.

Ghost eyes me warily. He's been keeping a close watch on me these past months, probably worried I'm going to snap completely. He's not wrong to be concerned.

"See, I don’t think you are, brother. I see the pain you’re in. I know you feel guilty about what happened to your woman," he explains. "Storm was testing you, brother, testing your commitment to the club. You did good, but you lost a part of yourself in the process.”

Ain’t that the motherfucking truth. I chose the club over the woman I love and doing so destroyed her. “I’m fine,” I growl, not wanting to have this discussion.

His cell rings and I watch as he answers it. His jaw clenches and the grip he has on the cell tightens, his face ashen and his eyes closed. “You sure?” he says thickly.

“Fuck, where’s Smoke?” he growls. “He’s there? Is he hurt?”

Everyone in the room stills at his words. The air is wired, ready to combust. What the fuck is happening?

“Send him to me,” Ghost grits out. “Tell him to come to the clubhouse. We need to get ahead of this shit.”

The call ends and he turns to me. The look of rage and pain in his eyes has me bracing.

"Storm's dead," he announces, his voice shaking. "Someone got to him at his house. Slit his throat."

The room erupts into chaos, brothers shouting and demanding answers. But I remain still, processing the information. Storm, our president, the man who’s been like a father figure to me since my own died, is gone. Fuck.

"Who did it?" I ask, my voice cutting through the noise. "Was it the Hawks?"

Those cunts have been quiet—too damn quiet. I wouldn’t put it past them to have done this.

Ghost shakes his head. "We don't know. The Hawks have been quiet for a year, ever since we took out Ivy. This... this is something personal.”

Fuck yes it’s personal. Someone took out our president, took out Ghost’s father. It couldn’t get any more damn personal.

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