I stare at him blankly. I didn’t go against anyone. I didn’t do anything wrong. Yet I’m the one who’s felt the wrath of this motorcycle club. I hate everything there is to do about the Saints Outlaws, and I pray I never have to see them again.
“Rogue, get this bitch out of my clubhouse. Let her know what happens if she shows her face again,” he snarls as he roughly shoves my face away from him.
I watch as he leaves the room and hope blooms in my chest. Does this mean I get to go home?
Ezra helps me to my feet, his touch gentle but impersonal. I wince as pain shoots through my battered body. Without a word, he leads me out of the room and through the clubhouse. The other men watch silently as we pass, their eyes cold and unforgiving.
Outside, the bright sunlight is blinding after days in that dark room. Ezra guides me to his motorcycle.
"Can you hold on?" he asks, his voice devoid of emotion.
I nod weakly, not trusting myself to speak. As we ride through the streets, I cling to him out of necessity, but there's nocomfort in his familiar warmth. This isn't the man I fell in love with. That man never existed.
We pull up in front of my apartment building. Ezra helps me off the bike, steadying me as my legs threaten to give out.
"Willow," he says, finally meeting my eyes. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of the Ezra I knew. But then it's gone. "If you ever breathe a word of what happened, or try to go to the police... we'll know. And next time, we won't be so merciful."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "Merciful? You call what you did to me merciful?"
His jaw clenches. "You brought this on yourself. If you had just told the truth?—"
"I did tell the truth!" I cry out, my voice breaking. "I told you over and over, but you wouldn't listen. You let them torture me, brand me. The man I loved would never have done that."
Something flashes in Ezra's eyes—pain? Regret? But it's quickly replaced by that cold detachment.
"That man never existed," he says flatly, echoing my own thoughts. "This is who I am, Willow. Who I've always been."
“I hate you,” I hiss. “I hate you so fucking much. I told you all the truth. It wasn’t me. You don’t care. All you wanted was your pound of flesh and you got it. Don’t you ever darken my doorstep again.”
“If it wasn’t you, then who?” he grinds out.
I shake my head. “Fuck you,” I hiss. “I thought you knew me better than this.” I shake my head, trying to hold back the tears. “Fuck you,Rogue,” I cry. “Leave. Please fucking leave.”
And with that, he's gone, the roar of his motorcycle fading into the distance as I stand there, broken and alone.
I make my way up to my dorm room on shaky legs, each step agony. Inside, I collapse on the floor, sobs wracking my body. The pain, both physical and emotional, is overwhelming.
As I lie there, curled up on the cold floor, I think about the tiny life growing inside me. A life created with a man who turned out to be a monster. A man who stood by and watched as I was tortured.
I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do now. I’m so scared. What if they come back for me?
NINE
WILLOW
I slowly sink down onto the bed. My entire body aches. I’ve been back in my dorm room for five hours and I’m still trying to make sense of what happened. My life has imploded and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do. I can’t tell anyone about what happened. If I do, Rogue and the motorcycle brothers will kill me.
The door opens and my body tenses, but when I glance over, rage rushes through me as I see Ivy saunter in with a bright smile on her face.
Her smile falters as she takes in my battered appearance. "Willow? What happened to you?"
I laugh bitterly. "Like you don't know."
Confusion crosses her face. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, Ivy," I spit out. "I know it was you meeting with Lochlann and the Hawks. You're the one who stole information from the Saints Outlaws. But they thought it was me."
Ivy's eyes widen in shock. "Willow, I?—"