Page 104 of Devil's Dilemma

We go to a graveyard on the edge of the desert, grass beneath our feet kept watered and green. Escorted by bikers wearing their Satan’s Devils cuts, I follow Pyro to one part of the burial ground where all the gravestones have one thing in common—the Satan’s Devils name etched into the granite.

A small hole has been dug, just the right size for the tiny coffin Pyro is holding.

Red steps up, as Pyro carefully lays it down. “We’ll never know if Baby Martins would have become a Devil, but he was conceived in the club, and is one of our own. Here he’ll lie, knowing he has brothers watching out for him. Even though he never knew life, in death he will never be alone.”

I feel choked up. Tears blind my vision.

“Sleep, baby boy.” Pyro’s voice is deep.

“Sleep in peace, child,” says my dad, though Mom is openly weeping against his shoulder.

Someone hands me a rose. When I step forward to place it in the grave, a shadow briefly passes over the coffin, looking up I see a kestrel flying. Symbolic, as if my child had grown wings and flown.

I’m incapable of speech, so I think the words instead.Bye baby. I love you so much.

Then I’m crying, hard, wracking sobs shaking my body. Pyro’s arms hold me tightly as he rocks me, his tears mingling with my own.

I hadn’t realised I needed to say goodbye. There’s no doubt it had helped. No contrary view that the support of these men who can be gruff and rough helped me get through those first dark days.

After the funeral, I had no longer kept to my room. No longer felt awkward when a man simply patted my shoulder as he passed me. No longer had the need to hide when I heard snippets of conversation, as their feelings only mirror my own. There’s only one outcome I can focus on. The reason I lost my baby has to be resolved. Skull has to be taken down.

But he can’t be killed. Even if I wish he’d remained, at least in my head, no longer breathing. I can’t risk the safety or freedom of the man I love or these men I call friends.

“Mel?”

I raise my head as Dad and Pyro walk over.

“Skull needs to feel our revenge. Are you strong enough to do it?”

They pull up chairs and sit down. My eyes narrow. But they soon elaborate on their plan.

Dad puts it into words. “Skull started a relationship with you under false pretences. Those false pretences included making you a spy to get information on the club which he otherwise might not get. He got you pregnant…”

“There’s no proof,” I interject, my mouth twisting as I remember he’d tried to deny it.

“We’ll get proof.” Pyro shifts uncomfortably. “You’ll be sent the copy of the baby’s DNA test.”

I just stare at him, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry, Mel. I asked the doctor to do it.”

He had?I have only two words for him. “Thank you.” It will be something concrete that Skull won’t be able to deny. “How do we get Skull’s?”

“There’s probably something left in his room,” Pyro suggests.

“Or we demand that he provides a swab,” Dad suggests. “What he put you through Mel, was psychological torture. There’s no way of proving that led to you losing the baby, but your suffering when he left, then when he turned up again, should be enough.”

“He raped me. I didn’t give my consent.”

Dad shakes his head. “I don’t think we’ll get him on a rape charge, though we can try. He didn’t force you into bed, even though he misrepresented who he was.”

“Will he go to jail?” I ask hopefully. That’s the outcome I want—to know he’s suffering every day for the wrong that he did.

“I can’t promise you that, Mel. There are so many factors. But we’ll take it as far as we can.”

“We don’t know where he is.”

Pyro raises an eyebrow toward my father.

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