Page 1 of Fanatic

Prologue.

April 2023

The day was dark and overcast; a storm was brewing, and rain already pounded against the window. A perfect day for a funeral, I thought as I stared outside.

I could see the hearse pulling up with his name in flowers—Grey—at the side of his coffin, and on top lay my wreath of white roses. The opposite side of the coffin held a floral arrangement spelling ‘Fiancé.’ It should have said husband… it shouldn’t be there at all.

A hand gently touched my arm, and I turned and noticed Ellen standing with tears in her eyes. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. I felt empty; did I seem empty?

I wore a black dress, tights and heels. My hair was in a bun. I’d made an effort, I’d do Grey proud.

Ellen said something, but I didn’t hear as I stared out of the window at the multitude of bikes outside. In front of everyone, straddling Grey’s bike, was Dad. He had to be in physical pain, but he was going to ride Grey’s Harley, irrelevant of the agony it caused him. That was my dad; he’d do his duty in spite of everything. A single rider rode at either side of the coffin. My brothers, Wild and Cowboy.

Behind them was the inner circle. They surrounded Grey’s special motorbike hearse and would escort Grey to the church and then the Rage MC cemetery. Yeah, it seemed Rage had their own graveyard. Who the fuck knew?

A limo waited near Grey’s coffin to carry me and a few others. Behind us fell the rest of Rage, their old ladies seated and wrapped around their men. No doubt, all thankful they still had their man.

Lucky them.

Following them came limos carrying the older children, those who weren’t riding with Rage. Hellfire waited, too. Our brother club grieved as much as the rest of us.

Other clubs arrived, Satan’s Scythes, Unfallen Warriors, the MCs rode for my man. My fiancé who died because he saved his president.

Three bikers turned up, and I nearly lost control. Inglorious. Razor. Chill.

Despite the mass funerals they’d been holding, they still come for Grey. Talk about respect and loyalty.

A lone biker rode up and caught my attention, and a small smile tore from me. This man. He would ride by Dad, and he had the right to, as he’d become brother and best friend to Grey. We’d spent many nights in the backyard laughing and joking with him. I’d demanded he lead the procession with Dad and nobody had argued.

Fanatic’s face was set in stone. He glanced at Dad and reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

Dad nodded, dismounted, and headed towards the clubhouse where I stood. The funeral was leaving from here. Rage had escorted Grey to the clubhouse one last time an hour ago, and we’d all had a chance to say goodbye in private.

I turned and saw Dad standing there, his heart ripped out, the same as me. He’d loved Grey too; a few short years was allwe’d get, and it would have to last us a lifetime, those precious memories.

Dad held his arm out, and I raised my head. I’d do my man proud.

We stepped outside as the rain broke and the sun came out. Was that Grey smiling at me? Did my fiancé send me a sign to be brave?

I took Dad’s arm as he led me to the limo where Ellen, Jodie, Serenity, Rosie, and Phoe all waited. They couldn’t ride for various reasons. Rosie, Ellen and Phoe because Dad, Drake and Calamity weren’t steady enough, although they insisted on riding today.

Jodie and Serenity chose to support me by not riding their bikes and being in the limo with me. Something I was grateful for, was the inner circle of the old ladies and my family, with their help, I’d do Grey proud.

Head held high, I walked to the limo and climbed in. I saw several of my colleagues waiting, looking a little bewildered at the mass of people, but I didn’t care.

I couldn’t breathe. I was burying the love of my life.

A calm hand landed on my shoulder, and Aunt Phoe gazed at me.

Aunt Phoe’s eyes held pain, and she was barely holding it together herself. She’d aged, I noticed. We all had. I took a deep breath, then another. The old ladies’ collapse would follow mine if I succumbed to grief. My agony would overwhelm them, and Grey would tell me off for it.

No, Grey needed me to be strong, to be his living memory, and I would.

Dad and Fanatic pulled out with a piper walking in front of them. Bagpipes faintly drifted back, and I opened my window to hear them. Grey would have loved them.

Dad and Fanatic walked their bikes forward as Wild and Cowboy fell into place, escorting the hearse.

Klutz, Gauntlet, Savage, and Harley rode beside me; escorting a fallen brother’s old lady. It didn’t matter he’d not married me; Grey had claimed me. As my limo pulled out, hundreds of bike pipes roared, the noise deafening as bikers started their engines and moved into formation. Howser had closed our route, so we’d have it easy to the church.

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