Page 17 of Brick

The club houseis quiet in the early morning hours. I sit beside Brick’s still form, my heart pounding in a rhythm of fear. His face, pale beneath the scruffy beard, reminds me of the night I lost my brother. The same sense of dread coils in my gut, whispering chilling tales of what-ifs.

“Brick,” my voice shakes as I wake him gently, needing to see his eyes, hear his voice. “We need to talk.”

His groggy, pain-laced groan echoes in the dim room. He squints up at me, his eyes flickering with confusion. “Ava? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I echo incredulously, the enormity of it all nearly overwhelming me. “Brick, you were... you could’ve died yesterday.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I hold his gaze, my own brimming with unsaid words and stifled fear. I force myself to breathe, to find the words that have been haunting me since the confrontation with the Iron Serpents.

“You’re reckless,” I begin, my voice firm despite the tears prickling at my eyes. “You throw yourself into danger like... like your life doesn’t matter. Like you have a death wish or something.”

His eyes darken, a furrow deepening between his brows. He opens his mouth, likely to argue, but I cut him off.

“No, let me finish,” I insist, pressing my hand over his, feeling his pulse thrum against my skin—a reminder that he is here, that he is alive. “I lost my brother, Brick. I... I can’t lose you too.”

The words hang in the air, raw and painful. I watch his expression, the stoic mask crumbling as he absorbs my words, understands the depth of my fear. It’s not just about the club, about the Iron Serpents. It’s about him—about us.

“I can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself,” I continue, my voice trembling now. “You need to reconsider this path. This... fight with the Iron Serpents... it’s going to get more people killed.”

Brick’s hand tightens over mine, his gaze never leaving my face. The silence stretches, a chasm between us, filled with unspoken words, fears, and hopes.

“Ava, I…” He starts, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you either. But this isn’t just about me. It’s about the Reapers, it’s about my brothers. We can’t back down now.”

I take in his words, his resolve. I see the man beneath the club president—the man who’s fighting for something bigger than himself. But all I can think about is the fear of losing him, the dread of experiencing the pain of loss once more.

His life is tied to the Reapers, and mine, in turn, is tied to his. As the morning light creeps in, the weight of this realization settles heavily on my shoulders. It’s a truth I can’t escape, a fear I must learn to live with, because the thought of a world without Brick is a fear far worse.

Brick’s grip on my hand tightens, his knuckles whitening. “Ava, this isn’t just about me,” he insists, meeting my gaze with a stubbornness that mirrors my own fear. “This is about my brothers. We can’t just let this go.”

“But why does it have to be like this?” I argue back, my own desperation fueling my words. “Why does it have to be a fight to the death?”

“Because they’ve made it one!” His voice is rough, filled with a potent mix of pain and frustration. “They’ve taken from us, Ava. They’ve crossed a line. And we can’t just let that slide.”

“We?” I can’t help but challenge, my heart pounding in my chest. “Or is it you, Brick? Is this about what they did to you? Is it about revenge?”

Brick’s face hardens, the raw emotion in his eyes hidden behind a shield of defiance. “It’s about what Ace would have wanted.”

I balk at his words, the memory of my brother hitting me like a physical blow. “Ace would have wanted you alive, Brick,” I shoot back, my voice breaking. “He would have wanted you to think about the people who love you, the people who need you.”

“And he’d want his death avenged,” Brick counters, his voice a mere whisper. “He’d want the Serpents stopped.”

“So this is what it’s about?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “A blood feud? More violence? More loss? Is that what Ace would have wanted?”

“We can’t back down now, Ava,” Brick repeats, his gaze never wavering from mine. “It won’t be over without a fight.”

His words echo in the silence that follows, a stark reminder of the grim reality we find ourselves in. Brick is committed to this path, a path that can only lead to more bloodshed. And no matter how much I plead, how much I argue, he’s determined to see it through. His loyalty to the club, his loyalty to Ace’s memory, it overshadows everything else. And I’m left grappling with the understanding that, for Brick, there’s no other way.

I sit quietly after Brick’s final words, my mind grappling with the reality of the situation. It isn’t just about the club’s survival, it’s about Brick’s personal vendetta too. This isn’t just brotherhood; it’s revenge. And, as much as it terrifies me, I understand it. I see the same desperation, the same burning desire for justice that I felt after losing Ace. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it, or agree with it.

I look at Brick, really look at him. He’s always been a force of nature in my life, a man who bulldozed his way into my world, leaving me breathless and completely enamored. His strength, his passion, his dedication, all admirable qualities that I’ve come to love. But the same traits that drew me to him are now pulling him on a self-destructive path that I fear I can’t follow.

Being with Brick means accepting his world, his rules. It means constant anxiety, never knowing if he’ll make it home safe, if there’ll be a next time. Is that a life I’m prepared for? Is my love for Brick enough to endure this perpetual fear?

“Brick,” I finally say, my voice shaky. “I love you, and I fear for you. I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t help feeling that I’m heading toward another heartbreak if I stay with you.”

He looks at me, his eyes dark with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. “I won’t let anything happen to me, Ava,” he says, reaching out to cup my face. “I won’t leave you.”

But his words provide little comfort. Because it’s not just about what he wants, it’s about the choices he makes, the risks he takes. And as much as I want to believe him, to trust him, the fear of losing him feels too real, too overwhelming.

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