Page 54 of The Biker's Second Chance
Because I dragged Xavier’s mess into their world.
I glance at Nisa and see tears running silently down her face. She doesn’t bother hiding them anymore. Nobody could. Not after this. The room is silent except for the shuffle of boots, the heavy breathing, and the raw grief hanging thick in the air.
Leo stands at the edge of it all, his face a mask of steel, but his eyes are dark. Broken. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t bark orders. He just stares down at Zero’s body, his jaw locked so tight the muscle jumps in his cheek.
I can’t even look at the others. Rumble’s face is ashen, his hands trembling. Lash keeps pacing like if he stops moving he’ll break. Creek just stares at the wall, eyes glassy, his fists clenching over and over.
And me?
I’m drowning.
The guilt claws its way up my throat until I can barely breathe. Zero’s gone. A good man. A brother. He’s dead because of me. Because I couldn’t leave it alone. Because I thought I could take on Xavier.
I thought I could save those girls.
Instead, I killed one of the same people who was trying to protect me. No matter how they spin it I know the truth. This is my fault.
My eyes blur, hot tears spilling over, but I don’t wipe them away. I don’t deserve to.
Nobody has to tell me what happened out there. I know. Xavier’s hand is all over this. And the blood soaking Spike’s kutte? That’s on me too.
I feel Nisa’s hand grip my arm, steady but trembling. “Jayne,” she whispers, like maybe she can pull me out of the pit I’m falling into.
But I can’t look at her. I can’t look at anyone.
Because all I can think is how selfish I’ve been.
How the fuck can I ask them to do this for me now?
How can I look Spike in the eye and ask him to keep fighting for me, for my cause, when it’s my problem that got Zero killed?
I wanted to help those women. I wanted to make a difference. But all I’ve done is bring death to the only family I’ve ever had.
And I don’t know if any of them will survive what comes next.
CHAPTER 29
FUCK OFF
SPIKE
The room is dark, the way I want it. Curtains drawn, lights off, just the faint glow of the hall bleeding in through the crack under the door. It’s enough to see the bottle in my hand, though I don’t need to see it to know it’s half-empty. Whiskey burns down my throat, but not near enough to scorch away the guilt eating me alive.
Zero’s blood is still on me. On my kutte, under my fingernails. On my fucking soul.
I can’t get his face out of my head. The way his eyes found mine in those last seconds, like he was giving me some kind of permission to keep going. Like his life was worth less than mine. And I let him. I let him take that fucking shot.
Because I hesitated. Because I wanted to be smart, wanted to play it careful, didn’t pull my gun when I should have.
Now he’s in the ground.
And I’m still breathing.
I tip the bottle back again, swallowing hard, my throat raw from more than the liquor. From the screams I kept buried whileI held him in my arms. From the way his last breath rattled in his chest before he went fucking limp.
I should’ve been the one in that ditch. Not him. Never him.
“Spike?”
