All of it.
Women presidents. Hot Mama. Queens. Amelia gone west with her kid and Lottie, into a chapter of women outlaws run by national blood and surrounded by men named like rabid dogs.
“She took Amelia to an MC?” I ask quietly.
Legend holds my stare. “She took Amelia to a place men like Vale don’t walk into.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s supposed to make you understand.”
“I understand she left.”
That lands.
The room goes quiet.
My voice sounds like gravel when I speak again. “She left after last night.”
I should not say that.
Not in this room.
Not in front of Holler or Oaks or Royal or Legend.
I don’t care.
Holler looks away.
Oaks’s expression shifts.
Legend’s face tightens, not with judgment. With recognition. He knows what it is to have a woman walk away because she thinks distance might save everyone from what love makes men do.
Whiskey is the one who speaks softly. “She left to keep you from finishing Vale.”
I turn on him. “And?”
“And she may not be wrong.”
I cross the space before I know I’m moving.
Oaks catches my arm.
Legend says my name once.
Enough.
Barely.
Whiskey doesn’t flinch. “You beat him outside family services yesterday.”
“He sent a threat to a kid.”
“Yes. And you gave him footage. Amelia sees the pattern.”
I want to hate him.
I do.