35. Sage

My head is throbbing, and it's the best I can ask for right now because it means I'm alive. Blood trickles down my eyebrow, and it's proof Lyla might actually be right about fate when in any other reality there's no reason Kane would have let me walk out of those horse stalls in one piece.

Another drop of blood drips from the gash in my head, and I press my hand over it.

Kane got me good. My eye socket is pulsing, and the center of my forehead feels like it's splitting in half. He didn't even hesitate before he landed the hit, almost knocking me on my ass.

And I don't blame him.

Walking into the clubhouse, I don't try to hide my busted-up face. It's a badge for his daughter. After all, if Kane knew all the shit I've done to her, the pain he would have inflicted would have been much worse.

The clubhouse is jam-packed with people like it is every night, and it's late enough that people have crossed the line from being tipsy to wasted. Prospects who haven't yet learned how to handle their booze are passed out on various pieces of furniture, and the entire place reeks of alcohol and vomit.

This place is going to shit.

Not that Kane seems to mind or notice. He's sitting directly in the middle of it on his throne at the bar. He sips his drink, watching a few of the guys playing pool and throwing darts.

I miss the nights when that was all this was. A few guys hanging out. Sometimes their wives or girlfriends would be on the couch talking. It was quieter and not all about the perks of being in a motorcycle club. It was a family.

Something about the look on Kane's face makes me wonder if he misses it too.

It's his club, he could do something about it. He hasn't, and it's one of the many reasons I don't feel guilty that I left.

Making my way through the clubhouse, I glance around, following Kane's gaze as he scans the room. I'm sure we're both thinking it—is Bullet the only one?

How many of these guys are turning against their club?

Are they Steel's men or Kane's?

Every year that passes, I recognize fewer faces around the room. Some guys are still around from my time here, but others have moved on to other chapters. And the new prospects don't have the same grit they used to.

Worse—they aren't as loyal.

They see a MC as an opportunity to party. To get away with shit that isn't socially accepted in most circles. So many of the new prospects only care about patch bunnies and coke, not about the men they're going to live and die to protect if it comes down to it.

Stopping at the bar, I slide onto the barstool next to Kane.

"Get you a drink, babe?" Paula slings a towel over her shoulder and presses her hands on the bar, pushing her tits up at me.

But it's not flirty, it's just Paula.

She's been around the club for a couple of decades, and she used to be one of Kane's main girls. But as time went on, she became more of a mother figure to the women who still linger around this drunken mess than someone who actually participates in it. And even if she could probably live a better life away from the compound, at least she stays so they've got someone looking out for them.

"He'll have one of these." Kane taps his glass before downing it. "And I'll have another."

Paula pours two shots of Jameson and slides them in our direction before walking away. She stops at a group of guys further down the bar, and when they almost puke ordering more vodka, she pours them water instead.

"Cheers." Kane holds his glass up but doesn't wait for me to down it.

He might have let me live, but I'm not stupid enough to think that's the end of it.

"I trusted you." Kane slides his empty glass across the bar top, and it stops at the bumper.

There's no use trying to explain myself. I fucked his daughter. And even if I'll never regret it, he's not going to forgive and forget.

"Un-fucking-believable. I'd expect this shit from the guys around here. But you, Sage? You're supposed to be smarter than that." He tips his head back and lets out an unamused laugh. "Not fucking funny, Hawk."

I don't know what this has to do with my dad, but when Kane opens his eyes and turns to me, it's like he's let a hint of his anger go.

"Your father…" Kane scratches his jaw and shakes his head. "Your fucking father."

"What about him?"

"He used to give me so much shit about you and Lyla, and it used to piss me off. He said he saw you two coming from a mile away, but I just thought he was messing with me. He was always trying to pull one over, and I wanted to think that was another way he was doing it. Remember his fucking pranks?"

"Yeah."

And it makes me miss the clubhouse only for the fact that my dad still exists here—in photos, in stories. People still remember that he used to fuck with everyone and try to get under their skin because he was the jokester. And it was worse with Kane because he loved nothing more than trying to irritate his best friend.

They were practically brothers.

As much as it fucked me up that Dad died when he did, I know I'm not the only one. A touch of sadness stains Kane's smile, and it's a flicker of emotion that's rare from him.

"Why couldn't he just be wrong for once?" Kane slams another shot when Paula hands it to him.

"Dad was never wrong." I spin my empty shot glass around, watching the last splash of liquid slosh around in the bottom.

"Ain't that the fucking truth." Kane buries his forehead in his hands and stares down at the bar top, and for the first time since everything started happening, it's like he's actually feeling it. "Just because I didn't feed you a bullet doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Didn't think so."

And I don't care.

I'd have died for Lyla if he saw fit. But if he's going to give me this shot, I'm going to take it, along with whatever consequences he enforces.

There's no putting to rest how I feel about her a second time.

She's it.

"Good," Kane says, glancing over his shoulder at a few of the guys getting rowdy across the room. "Because I've got bigger problems to worry about right now than you and her. They aren't just after Lyla, they're after the fucking club, and she's collateral."

She's not just collateral, she's everything. The club can go up in flames for all I care. Nothing can burn the rot he lets fester in this place anyway.

But I keep my mouth shut because I can't protect her if I'm six feet under.

"Yeah, seems like it." I tap the bar, looking around.

A few guys pass glances in our direction, and it's impossible to tell who's on what side. That shouldn't even be a question in an MC. Things have slipped so far downhill since Dad died.

"I could really use more guys around here that have my back through thick and thin." Kane turns in his stool, pulling his salt and pepper hair back off his forehead. "Whether I like it or not, you're one of them."

"You know I'm not getting back into this shit."

"Because of my daughter?" Kane's jaw clenches.

"Yes and no." I turn to face him, looking over his shoulder at the photos on the wall that captured better days. "All I wanted growing up was to patch in. To live and die a Twisted King. I'd have prospected at eighteen if I was given the chance. Probably younger if the club allowed it. But my dad made me fucking wait."

"I should have never agreed to that shit." Kane shakes his head. "But you were his kid, and I respected his wishes."

"Well back then, I really wished you hadn't. It pissed me off for years." I scratch my jaw. "But when he died, I got it."

Kane takes a deep breath, looking around the room for a moment before stopping back on me. "He wanted you to make a different decision."

"Not a different one, but my own. Dad was glad when Reed left all this shit. He wanted her away from it, but that wasn't the case for me. Dad wanted me to patch in; I don't think anything would have made him happier. He just wanted it to be my choice and not his. So when I turned twenty and still wanted it, he was relieved." I sigh, glancing at a picture of him on the wall. "But then he died, and I didn't know what was right anymore."

And that's the truth.

With Dad dead and Lyla gone I didn't know right from wrong, up from down. I was inside out. Everything I thought I wanted didn't make sense, so the only thing I could think to do was move on from all of it.

"He always was the philosophical one." Kane nods. "And I respect that. But you're like a son to me, Sage. And you do belong here—more than half the assholes we've patched in lately. I'm not blind to what's going on, regardless of what you think. So I wish you'd reconsider, but I get it if you don't."

He waves to Paula for another drink, not waiting for me to turn him down for the hundredth time. Even if I've thought about reconsidering his offer over the years, I could never do that to Lyla. Fixing this club isn't worth losing her.

"If you're going to be with my daughter, you better keep her safe." Kane tips his drink at me.

"You know I will."

"I do. Which is why you're still above ground."

"Lyla's not getting caught up in it again."

"Agreed." His voice catches as he swallows his drink. "I'm not losing another daughter."

I've never thought Kane was capable of real emotion, but I'd like to think he means it. I stood beside him in the Twisted Kings cemetery long after everyone else moved on from Ellie's funeral. He didn't say a word during the service and didn't shed a tear after. But he stood there, staring off in the distance like he was trying to find something he couldn't get back. We both did.

"You won't lose her." I stand up. "I promise."

Kane stands, holding out his hand, and I take it. He pulls me in for a half hug and slaps me on the back.

"I trust you, Sage. Against my better judgment."

Because he knows I mean it.

We don't share much common ground, except for Lyla. But as he steps back and gives me a final nod, I take it as his approval. Nothing will happen to his daughter if I'm still breathing.

Even if the Twisted Kings have to burn in the process.