"You're right, Dom. We'll face whatever comes together. But I'm still struggling with these violent urges inside me. It's like there's this primal part of me that hungers for the thrill of the fight, for the taste of blood."
I pause, hating to admit these dark desires out loud.
"I don't want to become a monster, but I can't deny that hurting Tane's men made me feel powerful. Unstoppable, even."
Dom regards me with concern, but no judgment.
"That rush of power can be addictive," he says. "But we have to remember who we are—and what we're fighting for. We're Snakes, not animals. But, that said, I think we’ve realized that the ends do justify the means if we really are going to take Tane down. And it’s not terrible if you get some enjoyment out of it." He shrugs. "I know that’s the way I’ve come to deal with the more violent aspects of this lifestyle."
I nod, but uncertainty gnaws at me.
"We’ve learned that defending ourselves isn't enough anymore. The only way to win this war is to fully embrace the darkness. We just need to hope that we’re able to return to our usual principles when we’re on the other side of all this."
Skyler nods his head firmly. "We’ll find a way, Devon. When this is all behind us.”
His unwavering faith gives me hope. I meet his gaze with renewed resolve.
"You're right," I nod. "We’ve all learned that we can’t always stick to our code… it’s just not practical these days. Everything is getting more ruthless, more fierce, more deadly. But no matter what Tane throws at us…our approach might just need to change in the meantime. I won't completely lose myself to the shadows… I’ll just lean into them a little more than I usually do."
The darkness still calls, but if we stick tightly enough together, we can hold on to the light.
Chapter seven
The ocean stretches before me, endless and eternal. The salty breeze tangles my hair as the sun beats down, causing the water to sparkle in a wild dance. Waves crash against the shore in a hypnotic rhythm, and I close my eyes, letting the sound soothe my troubled mind.
I've come so far to get here. Running a surf school was never part of the plan, but somehow I turned my passion into a thriving business. Pride wells up inside me as I look back on everything I've accomplished. And all of it, surrounded by constant danger.
I take a deep breath, letting the salty air fill my lungs. The beach is buzzing with activity—surfers of all ages and abilities dot the shoreline, waiting to catch the perfect wave. This place is like a second home to many of us, a tight-knit community bound together by our shared love of the ocean.
Out on the waves, I spot a familiar colorful board—Rake, goofing around as always even as he expertly rides the swell. He's been here since the beginning, since way before my little surf school was even just a fledgling operation. Now he helps me run the place, his humor and easygoing nature making even the newest students feel at ease.
Watching Rake, I can't help but smile. He's part of the family I've built here. My father may have put this place on the map, but I've made it my own, surrounding myself with people who encourage me to embrace my passions.
Devon's right—the future is mine for the taking. I just have to let go of the past and all its expectations. This life I'm building, it's not my father's. It's mine.
I think back to the advice I just gave her. I'd be a hypocrite not to apply it to myself. We have each other to lean on in challenging times, and I don't have to face my demons alone. This is just something I need to work through, until I get to the place where my father's legacy finally stops haunting my every moment.
With newfound resolve, I grab my board. "Come on," I say to myself. "Let's catch some waves."
The ocean swells before me, and I paddle out to meet it head on. The salt spray mists my face as I sit atop my board, rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves.
Rake paddles up beside me, flashing his trademark goofy grin. "Great day for a little surf, isn't it?" he says.
I nod, squinting against the bright sunlight glittering off the water.
The swells around us begin to grow, and Rake's eyes light up. "Incoming!" he shouts.
We both start paddling furiously, positioning ourselves to catch the growing wave. It swells larger and larger until suddenly we're both up, popping to our feet in perfect unison. The wave cradles us as we fly across its face, carving back and forth in exhilarating bursts of speed.
I glance over and see Rake with his arms spread wide, hollering and whooping as we share this moment of pure joy. My earlier doubts seem to wash away with the tide. This right here is everything—the thrill of the waves, the salt spray on my skin, the camaraderie of riding alongside a friend.
As we kick out in the whitewash, Rake gives me a high five. "Yeah, Skyler!" he exclaims. "That's what I'm talking about!" His enthusiasm is contagious, and I can't help but laugh.
The ocean sets me free in these moments. Out here, I'm not living in anyone's shadow. I'm just me—Skyler—chasing the thrill of the surf.
I nod and give Rake a fist bump, but as we paddle back out, I feel the darkness creeping in again. No matter how hard I try to lose myself in the surf, my father's legacy weighs on me like a leaden anchor.
It doesn’t seem to matter how much I accomplish, because his voice always rings in my head telling me the many ways I’m not good enough in his eyes. Too soft, too weak, why can’t I be more like my brother, and so on. It’s like the better I do with anything, the louder the voice gets. And right now, it’s almost deafening. Willing me to fail.