Page 99 of Beautiful Ruins
My father had used it as his way of getting inside mine andLogan’s heads, a clever manipulation dressed up as affection. It was a weapon to hold us close yet keep us right where he wanted us. But I was no longer that young boy, clinging to the fantasy that family was anything more than blood and betrayal.
I dropped into the chair opposite Iron, the wood groaning beneath me as I leaned back, hands laced behind my head like I gave a shit. The room seemed smaller now. Even the walls knew Iron’s time was running out, even if he didn’t.
“I’ve always admired you, Rowan,” Iron said, his voice calm as he finally acknowledged me. He continued to watch the world outside as though it was still spinning in circles and he was stuck in place. “Lost everything, yet here you are, still sitting at this table like it means something.”
Was that a dig to see what I’d do, or to remind me of what I’d lost—a mother I never knew, Logan, my father, and a chance at something different with Sadie?
Being part of the club used to mean something. Back when the patch stood for the road. Not blood on the floorboards. What once started out as a love of motorcycles, of the open road and the thrill of escape, had turned into a group of outlaws who threatened and killed just for the sake of it. We were just another gang of bastards pretending to be more.
I couldn’t see past that.
Iron continued as if the past had come back to haunt us both. “Your old man? He was a bastard, but he was my brother. One of the last real ones.” There was something in his expression that tried to pass for sadness, some cheap imitation of regret. He even had the balls to look like he gave a shit.
“I beg to differ,” I said, rocking back in the chair and meeting his gaze with my brand of defiance.
He’d played this card before, tried to make me believe in ghosts, believe that the man who had raised Logan and me was worth anything more than the dirt I had buried him in.
Iron nodded, tapping the cigar to the edge of the ashtray in front of him. “I can see how your view of him would be like that,” he said. “But before all the drinking and the drugs, your father had vision. A drive to make something of this club. It wasn’t always meant to be like this.” His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat as he swiped his wrist under his nose.
Perhaps he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me. Maybe he just wanted to remember it that way, a memory he could live with when the truth was too much.
“Why are you telling me this?” I said, cutting through the bullshit stinking up the air.
Memories didn’t mean much once they’d changed shape to fit the story someone else wanted to tell. I’d lived enough of it to know what was real, and no-one was rewriting that history for me—not even Iron.
He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the worn table, the sound hollow and unsure. “Because I’m dying.” His words hung in the air, yet I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. I guess I saw it coming. “Got the big C. The bastard finally caught up with me. Maybe six months—a year if I’m lucky.” He sniffed, then took a breath, letting his shoulders relax.
The words hit like an icy hand around the throat, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I kept my composure, though my mind raced with the implications of what it meant for the Ridge Riders. Loyalty shifting. The entire club scrambling for control like rats on a sinking ship.
“That’s rough. Sorry to hear,” I said, attempting to force a small amount of empathy into my tone. It fell short.
For all I knew Iron could have been trying a new tactic to get inside my head.
He huffed out a laugh. “I doubt that.” There was no malice in his words. Just a raw honesty I hadn’t heard from him ever.
I didn’t even realise he had an honest bone in his body.
I half-shrugged, folding my arms over my chest. “Not sure what you want me to say. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I want things changed around here.”
If he thought I would sit back and watch the empire go to shit without me making a move, he had another thing coming.
“Snake.” One word. He ran a hand through his grey hair like he was trying to brush away more than the last few decades. “He’s certainly made a mess of things.”
“I’m going to take him out,” I said, unflinching. “Just thought I’d give you the heads up.”
He met my eyes, nodding. “Fair enough.” He took a drag from the cigar and blew the smoke out slowly, the silence dragging. “But before you do that, I want you to have something.” He shoved a hand into the inner pocket of his cut and fished out a USB stick, its red plastic worn and scuffed. “It won’t make everything better, but you’ll understand why things happened the way they did.” He slid the item across the table—a burden he couldn’t wait to get rid of.
I didn’t reach for it. Not yet. It could’ve been answers. Or just another set of chains. And I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“What is it?” I said, eyeing it like it was a fucking bomb.
Iron sighed. “Something I should have given you years ago.” His voice cracked, and his fingers trembled as he tapped the cigar against the side of the ashtray again. “You’ll want Sadie to see what’s on it. But—just a heads up—it’s going to change everything. Make sure you’re there for her. She’s going to need you. You’re going to need each other.”
Jaw clenched, I reached over and snatched up the USB,turning it over in my hand. Light as it was, it felt like it weighed a hundred kilos—the truth always did.
“What are you playing at?” I said, my scepticism getting the better of me.
I had no room for riddles or bullshit, and this felt like both. We’d played this game a hundred times before, and I was fucking done.
