Ain't no way I was letting my prick husband put his hands on my boy. So I ran. Back to the motorcycle club I grew up in. Back to my president dad.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a young prospect asked as I approached the club.

"Tell Heartbeat Trouble's here."

I was met by not just my dad, but his vice president and another man I'd never seen before.

Dad, who had been staring me down, slowly removed his sunglasses and squinted at my boy Web.

His eyes pointedly took in every bruise and cut he could see. Then his gaze landed on Web and the black eye I'd treated in the bathroom of some poor gas station.

My father went still.

"Who did it?" he asked, pulling me closer so he could inspect my face at eye level.

I swallowed hard.

"He's... Web's father."

"You should've called, Trouble," Dad said quietly.

"I know, Dad." Shame crawled up my throat. "I was too ashamed. You raised me better than that, and I... I stayed."

Dad's jaw clenched hard. "You got out. That's all that matters now."

"And you're not going back. The club protects its own."

My throat closed instantly.

Screw him.

Screw him for sounding gentle.

But I knew I was finally home.

——

"Web! Come on, baby, we have to go."

"Momma, what about Spider? We can't leave him here."

My frustration was high, my gasket blown, but I didn't want to take it out on my boy. So I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself before moving again.

After my nerves settled, I turned to Web. Spider was a huge part of our lives-the first pet Web had ever had-but traveling for hours with a dog wasn't exactly appealing. The stopping, the shitting, the pissing.

"Momma, please." Full. Blown. Pout. This kid definitely knew how to play me like a fiddle.

"Fine. Quickly, grab his mess. Leave the food-we'll buy more on the way. And hurry up, Web!"

This was the day. After years of back-and-forth, abuse, and neglect... this was the day.

No more would I stand around pretending our life was peachy keen. You can hit me, and I'll fight you until I die, but the second you put your hands on my baby? Screw you.

I'd never knocked anyone clean out before, but I definitely had this time.

The skillet was there, and he'd turned toward Web, who was beating on his back and begging him to leave me alone. Begging him not to hurt me.

When he turned and backhanded my boy-his boy-I saw red. And for the first time in my life, I wanted blood on my hands.

The skillet was there, so I swung it.

He went down hard and stayed there.

I spared one glance to make sure he was still breathing before I started packing. Ain't no way I was letting any prick put their hands on my boy.

At first, a hotel seemed like the thing to do. A safe place to calm down. But no.

I knew Judd. He'd find me like he had every other time I'd worked up the courage to leave. And the next beating would hurt worse than the last one. Just like every one before it.

Because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought back, his punches always landed harder than mine ever could.

Once Web was strapped into his car seat, Spider happily sitting beside him, I backed out of the driveway and left that piece of mess behind. If I could help it, he'd never see me or Web again.

On the drive, I called the clinic I'd been working at for the last eight years to let them know I wouldn't be in for a while. That I'd call in a favor and get them coverage as soon as I could.

Honestly, I didn't care. The nurses there were fully equipped to handle any emergencies that could arise.

Crazy enough, things hadn't always been so bleak. So hostile. So violent.

Judd used to be different, or at least he pretended to be. He did such a good job masking the darkness inside of him that I never noticed when the smiles that used to be soft and loving turned into glares of disdain, and the hands that once held me gently became fists of steel.

Things that used to enamor him to me became things he dissected and turned into faults that I could never correct.

So many times I was supposed to leave. So many times my hands were on the doorknob, one foot on the porch, but then he'd beg and plead.

I'd give in like the idiot I'd become, and I never stopped giving. He never stopped... hitting.

Then one day, Web was born; William Evan Bennett, my reason for breathing, for surviving. Web was just... he was my reason.

Judd had never put his hands on Web. All of his violence was reserved for me, and as messed up as it sounds, I was grateful for that.

As long as he never touched my boy, I was fine. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

I could take it. I could survive it. But Web? My baby boy? There was no way I could survive that.

But it was all over now.

He touched my boy, and something inside me snapped. Then I snapped something in him.

My boy was worth more than anything to me.

Without really noticing, my body naturally drove the car Southeast. I guess it was only fair.

It had been years since I'd been home.

My parents didn't even know about Web. Oh, my mom didn't even know where I was.

My dad, on the other hand, probably knew exactly where I was. He just respected my space enough not to force his way in. I kind of wished he hadn't.

There were so many nights I wished my dad would come save me.

So many nights I lay bruised and broken, crying for my dad while nothing changed.

But in the end, it was on me.

I was too ashamed to reach out. Too broken to even try.

Judd had me. He knew it, and so did I.

I arrived at the compound early that morning, two days later. A closed gate stopped me at the entrance, a young prospect stationed just behind it.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked as I stepped out of the car and approached the gate.

"Yeah. I'm here to see Heartbeat Jones."

"Heartbeat?" he repeated, confusion written all over his face. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"You got a meeting, or...?"

"Or?"

He shifted awkwardly. "Or are you one of the new girls? 'Cause if that's the case, Heartbeat ain't who you should be here for."

I almost laughed.

Years ago, I probably would've flashed him just for the fun of it. Might've even climbed the gate undressed on a dare. My dad used to swear I came out of the womb determined to raise mess.

"First she'd strip undressed," he'd tell people, "then she'd find that plastic bat and take it to everything in sight."

That's what he used to say anytime someone asked why he called me Trouble.

And honestly? He wasn't wrong.

So nobody should've been surprised when I traded that plastic bat for a real one and beat the mess out of my boyfriend's car after catching that prick balls deep in some cheerleader.

Wrecking his car was payback.

But trouble, that had always been my thing.

I guess it still was.

The prospect cleared his throat awkwardly, dragging me back to the present.

"Ma'am?"

"Tell Heartbeat Trouble's here."

Looking around at the familiar structures, I could almost remember everything.

How I used to run around the lot as a little girl, batshit crazy, as my dad used to say. How whenever Mom left Dad alone to watch us, I'd wreck everything in sight. How I learned to ride my bicycle here, right next to the crew's bike garage. How I learned to drive here. How after I beat my boyfriend's car to a pulp, this was the first place I ran.

There was nowhere like home.

The prospect at the gate threw a few hand signals toward the prospect sitting inside the booth a few feet away. A second later, the gate rolled open.

I was waved through, directed toward the front of the clubhouse, and told to wait in my car.

There wasn't much point.

The second I pulled up, I was met by not just my dad, but his vice president and another man I'd never seen before.

It took me a minute to get out.

My father stared at me through the windshield while I stared back at him. Eventually, Web climbed around the seat to see what was happening, Spider scrambling beside him.

Dad, who had been staring me down, slowly removed his sunglasses and squinted at Web.

Finally, Ward-short for Warden-came around to my side and opened the door for me. Then Web. Then Spider, who immediately wandered off toward the nearest patch of grass.

"Thanks, Uncle Sam," I muttered.

With Web's hand in mine, we made our way over to my dad.

My dad, who was still sizing me up.

His eyes pointedly took in every bruise and cut he could see. Then his gaze landed on Web and the black eye I'd treated in the bathroom of some poor gas station.

My father went still.

Then instantly furious.

"Who did it?" he asked, pulling me closer so he could inspect my face at eye level.

"Can we just go inside and talk? Catch up? Maybe you can meet your grandson?"

"Grandson?" my father whispered, stunned. "That's your kid?"

My father dropped to one knee, though he was still too tall and imposing for Web not to look intimidated.

Cameron "Heartbeat" Jones was a big man. Tall, muscular, commanding.

And none of those things were good if you weren't one of the people he loved.

Honestly, if you were unlucky enough to come face-to-face with Heartbeat Jones, you should probably run.

"What's your name, kid?" my dad asked, offering Web his hand.

"Web," my little man answered shyly.

"Like spider web?"

"Uh huh. I'm Web, and he's Spider."

Web pointed toward Spider, who was currently sniffing his own mess in the grass.

My father snorted.

"That's a pretty cool name, little dude." He glanced toward the man standing beside him. "You think you'll be okay if I borrow your mama for a minute and Blaze here shows you the arcade? There's games and stuff in there. Sound good?"

Web looked at me for permission, and I smiled softly.

"You'll be okay, bug. Go ahead."

Blaze stepped forward and held his hand out for Web.

I stopped him before he could touch my son.

"He is not to be harmed," I said quietly. "And if one hair on his head is out of place, I'll do to you what I did to the other prick. Capiche?"

Blaze blinked once before nodding slowly.

"Understood, ma'am. He'll be okay with me. I promise."

"Please," Dad muttered roughly. "Go on, Blaze. Trouble, you come to my office."

Then he turned toward Ward.

"Ward, clear the club out. I don't want any girls around while my grandson's here. And none of the brothers either while Trouble's here. Give me thirty minutes before anybody comes back."

I already knew that wasn't going to happen.

Just by showing up here looking like this, I'd made it club business instead of a close family matter.

Walking into the clubhouse again after all these years felt surreal.

They'd changed it. Cleaned it up.

The black leather chairs and sofas were still there. So were the arcade games and pool tables. But somehow the place felt lighter.

The dark gray paint that used to stain the walls had been replaced with a warm beige color. The fake plants shoved carelessly around the room were gone too, replaced with real ones strategically placed around corners and furniture that made the whole place feel fresh.

I also noticed the dining area had been expanded.

Once cramped and stingy, it was now open and welcoming. Bar stools had been replaced with actual tables and chairs, and there was even a cafeteria-style serving counter now.

What.

Dad led me to his office at the back of the clubhouse and motioned for me to sit.

Pictures of Mom, Adam, and me covered the walls. None recent of me, but plenty of Adam and his...

Wife?

"Adam's married? With kids?" I asked, picking up one of the framed pictures from Dad's desk.

"Yeah," Dad answered. "Finally did it last year. He'd already knocked her up three times. About time he made an honest woman outta her."

I laughed softly despite myself.

"Now they've got three kids. Pez, Annabeth, and Jameson. Two months, four years, and James is near ten."

"Ten? Becca his momma?"

Dad nodded.

"He didn't know about James for years. Becca kept the boy away from him. Said she didn't want her son growing up around the club. As if we recruit babies fresh outta diapers."

I snorted.

"Anyway, your mom spotted her in the supermarket one day. Said she knew immediately that kid was your brother's."

"What happened?"

"Adam found her trying to leave town a few hours later. Told her no, got his kid and his woman, and moved them into his house."

Dad leaned back in his chair.

"They've been solid ever since."

"I used to watch that kid for her back in the day. I had no idea he was Adam's. I guess I should have known.

"He asks about you all the time."

Guilt twisted painfully in my stomach.

"You should've called, Trouble," Dad said quietly. "I would've been there in a heartbeat."

"I know, Dad." Shame crawled up my throat. "I was too ashamed. You raised me better than that, and I... I stayed."

Dad's jaw clenched hard.

"You got out. That's all that matters now."

Then his eyes sharpened.

"Now tell me who he is."

I swallowed hard.

"He's... Web's father. I met him when I first moved out there. It wasn't supposed to be serious, but I fell in love with him."

I laughed bitterly.

"I don't even know exactly when everything changed. Can't pinpoint it to save my life. But somewhere along the line, we went from love to pain."

My throat tightened.

"Then Web came along. And he'd never hit him, so I convinced myself everything was okay."

I stared at the floor.

"Then a few days ago, he did."

Dad went terrifyingly still.

"I grabbed one of Mama's cast iron skillets and I hit him."

Silence.

"Then I left."

A knock sounded at the door before Ward stepped inside and took a seat across from me.

Then he listened.

Just like Dad did.

Patient. Quiet. Only interrupting occasionally for clarification.

And when I finished?

They both looked murderous.

"You're not going back," my father growled. "I want to make that crystal clear right now."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"And I want his name, Melissa."

"Dad," I whispered shakily, "I don't want you to kill him. I just want to get away. My boy deserves better than that."

My voice cracked.

"And so do I."

It was like talking to a wall.

"Melissa," he said softly, "I'm only asking once more.

"Daddy, I don't want you getting into trouble over him. He's not some nobody prick. He has people. Money."

"His. Name."

The office went dead silent except for the sound of Dad grinding his teeth.

And still I wouldn't say it.

My thoughts were cut short when Dad suddenly stood and headed for the door.

"Ward," he barked, "keep her here."

"What?!"

"Blaze!" Dad shouted as he stormed out, the office door slamming hard behind him.

I was moving before I even realized it, but Ward blocked me instantly.

"Move," I snapped.

"Not a chance."

"Ward-"

"You should've known this was gonna happen," he said firmly. "If you won't tell him, he's gonna ask the kid."

Panic flooded my chest.

"You should've come to us sooner, Trouble," Ward continued more gently. "But your old man ain't letting this go. Ever."

Somehow, I managed to shove past him enough to get the office door open.

And that was all it took.

I could see my father kneeling in front of Web.

Blaze stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching carefully.

Web's tiny arms hung nervously at his sides.

Dad slowly stood, letting out a heavy sigh before ruffling Web's hair.

Then he turned toward me.

His arms crossed over his chest automatically.

Six long seconds passed while he stared at me.

Then slowly-so slowly I could make out every syllable-he said:

"Judd Bennett."

A cold shiver ran through my body.

Then everything went black.