Syvannah was breathing. That’s all that mattered.
I carried her inside as the Clubhouse erupted behind us. Derange was already setting up in the common room, hands steady, voice calm as he examined Syvannah. Torch paced like a storm. Dagger offered a quiet prayer no one else could hear.
Bones went nuclear.
The last time an Ol’ Lady was kidnapped, he almost lost his life protecting her. He stormed out back, found Pearl hanging near the bar, and they disappeared into his room. Fifteen minutes later, the walls shook. Everyone heard it. No one said a word. That’s how some of us deal with something like this. Fists, with fury, or flesh with flesh.
Capone didn’t even look up when he said, “Let him. He needs it.”
Now,sitting outside her door, I still see the look in Syvannah’s eyes when she collapsed into me. Not relief, not love. Just shock that someone had come for her and held her while she cried. Shocked that anyone had come for her at all.
And that kills me because she should know she would never face this alone.
I should’ve been the one to stop it from happening. I should have been faster, smarter, and less trusting.
I push off the wall, disturbing Peanut’s slumber, and step closer to Syvannah’s door. Her breathing is steady, the nightmare over.
My hands flex, wanting to open the door and make sure she’s really okay, but I stop myself. She doesn’t need a guard dog tonight. She needs space to heal, even if it kills me to give it to her.
Peanut rubs against my foot, meowing softly. I scoop her up and stroke behind her ears. “You’ve got better instincts than I do, kid.”
Faint laughter drifts from the common room. Red and Dagger are arguing over a busted radio, Torch is offering sarcastic commentary, and Trigger is telling them both to shut up. Life creeps back in around the edges, whether we’re ready for it or not. That’s what family does. We keep moving, even when it hurts.
I look once more at Syvannah’s door, then head out to join them. I grab a beer from Seth and drop into a chair near Capone.
He glances up from the table when I walk in. “You good?”
“Getting there.”
He nods. “Good. Because the next time Lattimer sends a message…”
He lets it hang, the promise heavy between us.
Trigger finishes it for him, voice like gravel. “We’re sending one back.”
Dagger lifts his beer. “To the Royal Bastards.”
We raise ours, the clink echoing like gunfire.
For a few seconds, it almost feels like peace. Then the guilt creeps back in, quiet and certain.
I’ll keep breathing. Keep fighting. Keep pretending I can protect her. But the truth is, I already failed once. If Lattimer ever touches her again, no one in this city will live long enough to tell him he shouldn’t have.
The jukebox hums to life a minute later, static and low guitar cutting through the quiet.
“Tomorrow, we move early. Supply run to the docks. No screw-ups. No detours.” Capone disappears toward his office, and the rest of us drift toward the bar like moths that have forgotten the fire still burns.
Bones and Pearl are back at the bar, pretending nothing happened in his room. It’s a lie we all agree not to touch. Bones looks lighter, cockier, reckless in that way that usually comes before blood. Pearl’s lipstick is smeared, her eyes glassy, but she smiles when she sees me. I nod once, nothing more.
The rest of the night fades into half-jokes, cheap beer, and music that’s older than most of us.
When I finally step outside, the air is cool and heavy with exhaust. The compound’s lights glow against the dark like small, stubborn stars. I take a breath that doesn’t quite reach my lungs. Tomorrow, we ride. A routine supply run to the docks, but everyone knows it’s really about checking if Lattimer has eyes on our routes again. For the first time in a long time, I don’t knowif I’m hoping for quiet or a reason to let everything inside me finally break loose.
Morning burns hot and fast over the city. The sun climbs early, bleeding gold over rooftops as we line up in front of the clubhouse. Six bikes, one van, enough firepower to level a warehouse if things go bad.
Capone gives a curt nod from the porch. “Docks and back. Eyes open.”
Capone, Blayze, and Derange are hanging back with the women and children. Derange has Naomi strapped to his chest while she sleeps peacefully. Monica, Danyella and Jezebelle have the rest of the Little Bastards inside, keeping them occupied.