CHAPTER THREE

Noah

The ringing in my ears hasn't stopped since I left the clubhouse or that sinking feeling in my gut telling me I will be devastated when I arrive. That the warden is going to pull me aside and tell me my mother's already been shanked.

My skin is clammy when I race up to the front entrance, security looking me up and down with a judgmental stare. He pats me down, probably expecting to find a gun or blade, but I shoved them in my saddlebag before I headed this way. I've been here enough times to know how this shit works.

He waves me through, and I enter the reception area. Stepping up to the counter, my breathing rapid as the disinterested woman behind the guarded screen casually glances up at me. "Next," she grumbles like she couldn't give two shits about being here.

With my heart rapidly firing on all cylinders, I approach, glancing at her name badge, trying to appeal to her human side. "Rhonda, I need to get in to see my mother. It's incredibly urgent."

She smacks her lips together, chewing on her gum loudly, and her incredulous stare makes me think she doesn't understand the seriousness of my tone. "Name?" she drones.

"Valerie Drake," I reply.

She snorts out a laugh, shaking her head while grabbing a clipboard. "Unless that's your name, princess, that's not going to help me right now."

Her blasé attitude causes me to groan out, "Noah Drake."

Rhonda waggles her brows. "Shame, honey. I think Valerie would be a great name for you." She giggles at her own joke, and the guard in the back of the room chuckles as he munches on a sandwich, a long line of mustard sliding down onto his uniform.

Frustration bubbles inside me, and I can't control my emotions. My fist comes up, then slams on the desk. "Fuck's sake, Rhonda. This is urgent. Can you let me in… please?" I beg the last word, calming my tone, while my somber eyes stare, pleading for her to move this along.

Rhonda sits taller in her chair and turns to her computer, typing into the system. "Noah Drake, you said?"

"Yes, to see Valerie Drake. My mother."

Rhonda finishes typing, reads, and then shakes her head slightly. "Sorry, honey. You're not on today's registered list of visitors. Can't let you in."

Dread flows through me, my fingers instantly threading through my red hair. I turn and start pacing, the anger building inside me like a fiery inferno. My head begins to swirl after I spin, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Should I try to race through the fucking gate, yelling and screaming to get to my mother?

"Next," Rhonda calls out, snapping me out of my fog.

My head spins back to the desk, and I watch another guy approach the counter.

Panic washes over me, so I race up, shoving the guy out of the way.

"Hey!" he states, but I ignore him as a guard steps up to my side.

"Rhonda, I beg you. Please. Please. This is a matter of life and death," I implore, but she doesn't seem impressed.

She waves her hand to the guard beside me. "Jake, get this asshole out of—"

"Wait!" the mustard guy calls out, stepping up behind Rhonda and pulling his cell away from his ear. "Just got a call from the warden. Said to let Noah Drake in to see Valerie. No questions asked."

My eyes widen almost as much as Rhonda's.

What the fuck?

Rhonda gestures to the guard and shrugs. "Guess it's your lucky day, honey." She continues to smack on her chewing gum, then shifts her eyes past me. " Next, " she yells obnoxiously loud.

The guy I shoved out of the way slides past me up to the counter before I turn to walk with the guard up to the gate. "Looks like you got someone lookin' out for you, kid," the guard states.

Furrowing my brows, I shake my head in confusion. "Yeah… seems like," I reply as my cell beeps in my jeans.

I yank it out—a text from Alpha.

Swallowing hard, I quickly swipe the screen while the guard walks me through the door to the processing area.

Pres: I pulled a few strings at the prison. If there are any problems, let me know. But the warden and I spent time together in the Army. He's doing me a solid letting you in without being registered. You should have come to see me before you left, Prospect. MAKE SURE YOU DO WHEN YOU GET BACK!

Grimacing at the obvious anger with him using all caps makes me exhale a long breath. But I am glad to have a president on my side like Alpha. He's always got our backs, even when we do the wrong shit—like take off without my club for backup.

But I had to get here to see my mom.

That is all that mattered at that moment.

My punishment can happen once this is done.

Following visitor protocol, the door buzzes, and I enter the large room, where tables and chairs are spread out sporadically. Inmates and their families or friends sit with them, having their time together.

I've been visiting the prison for the last seven years, and until Mom dies in here, I will continue to keep coming. It's a home away from home.

How fucked up is that?

I sit at an empty table, my foot tapping anxiously on the concrete, when the buzzer sounds and a guard ushers Mom through the doors. She's wearing a blue jumpsuit, her orange-red hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. Smiling wide after seeing her completely fine, I stand, letting out a long exhale. A wave of relief floods me so much my eyes mist briefly before I clear them, pulling my shit together.

Mom rushes up to me with a beaming grin as she approaches. "Noah? Sweetheart, what are you doing here? You weren't scheduled to visit today, were you? Or am I already going senile in here and losing track of the days?"

I slide my hands across the table, and she takes the hint, sliding hers across too. The tips of our fingers only just touch while she stares at me, her brows furrowing. "It's so fucking good to see you, Mom."

She reaches out and grabs my hand in hers completely. "Noah Brooklyn Drake, I can tell when you're not okay. Talk to me."

Smiling, I relax a little. "Did you just full-name me?"

Smack!

We both jump as a guard slams his baton on the table next to our joined hands. "No touching!"

Slowly, our hands pull apart, and he walks away. Mom giggles when he leaves. "You've got to watch that one. He loves to throw his baton around. I think it's because he is compensating for something he's lacking."

Snorting out a laugh, I shake my head. "I don't know how you can be so upbeat in this place."

She shrugs. "Have to be, sweetheart. This is my home now. I'm here for the rest of my life. So I have to make the most of it, or the life I have left will be miserable."

"I should be the one behind bars, not you," I grumble under my breath.

Mom huffs. "Noah, we've been through this countless times. You may have landed the first blow on your father, but I am the one who ended his life. I'm where I belong. You need to let this guilt you carry go. I'm okay in here. I have a job. I have some friends. I have a structured routine, and I get to see you flourish. It's okay, Noah. It really is."

Slowly, I glance up at her, my eyes somber. "It's not, Mom. It's not okay. Atlas came to see me."

She tenses, and I watch uncertainty form on her face. Mom's never met Atlas, but she knows everything he's put me through. She lived through the foster care hell with me, but she had to deal with it from the other side of the bars. It was a particularly hard time for her, knowing I was in such a bad place while she was incarcerated. When Dutch took me into the clubhouse, she was never so relieved.

"Atlas came to the clubhouse?" she asks.

Nodding, I crane my neck to the side. "Unfortunately."

"How did he find you?"

"I don't know. But he said you've been making waves inside and that you need to stop. Or the next place you'll end up is the morgue."

Mom hangs her chin to her chest, letting out a long exhale. "Shit," she murmurs.

"Mom? What's going on in here?"

She slowly looks back up at me. "I've placed myself with this group of women… for protection. The division here has been getting thicker since these new girls showed up. I had to pick a side."

Groaning, I ball my hands into fists. "What happened to I'm making friends, and I have a structured routine. It's all okay in here, Noah?"

"Don't mock me, sweetheart. It is okay, for the most part… it's just that this new group of women are part of some type of drug ring. They're fiercely loyal to their men, who honestly, sound like they groomed these poor women to work for them and then take the fall for them whenever the heat gets too thick."

"Sounds like a cult mentality," I state.

Mom snorts out a laugh. "You're not far off the mark. These bastards brand their women with their own specialized marks so they know they belong to them and this gang. It's fucking insane. These women are trying to recruit the inmates inside to join them so that when they're out, they can work for this gang. Because I'm a lifer, they can use me in other ways. Recruiting to their cause, manipulation of inmates, intimidation… the list goes on, and I'm not about that. So I chose the other side…" She takes a deep breath. " They didn't like it because they want lifers in here to keep preaching their stupid fucking gang mentality."

Sitting forward, I sigh. "So that's the making waves that Atlas was talking about? He must be a part of this gang?"

Mom nods matter-of-factly. "I assume so. It would explain how he found you."

Furrowing my brows, I lift my chin at her in curiosity. "How so?"

She glances around, and I follow her, detecting random women observing our interaction, their eyes monitoring me intently. "You never notice, sweetheart, because you're always so focused on me, but every time you step foot in here, those women from the gang are always watching you."

Snorting out a laugh, I turn back to face Mom. "These women you've aligned yourself with… they gonna protect you?"

Her fingers slide out again, so I meet her. Our tips are just touching once more. "We have each other's backs in here."

Somehow, I'm not comforted by that .

"I can talk to Alpha. He knows the warden from back in his Army days. I'll get you put into solitary or something to make sure you're—"

"Noah, stop! I need you to quit worrying about me. I'm stronger than you give me credit for. I know what you saw growing up was a weak, broken woman, but… I'm not her anymore. I've had to learn to fight for what I want. To stand up for myself…" She lets out a small laugh. "I'm one of the most respected women in here, son. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Sinking back into my seat, I let out a long exhale and slowly nod. "Yeah, Mom. I trust you…" Hesitating, I gnaw on my bottom lip but then continue, "You know I'm only trying to look out for you, right?"

Her smile lights her face, her eyes glistening when she stares at me. "Noah, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Honestly, you're the pride of my life. I am in awe of the man you have become. You may do stupid shit sometimes, but your heart… oh, my sweet boy, your heart is as pure and honorable as they come." She sniffles back, clearly becoming emotional. "I know you're looking out for me. You always are, and I adore you for it. But, sweetheart, please start taking better care of yourself. I can easily see you're still not sleeping well. You can't hide those bags under your eyes from me."

Subtly rubbing my face, I let out an exhale. "This visit isn't supposed to be about me—"

"But it is, Noah. You rode all the way out here without having a visitation request and got your president to call in a favor, which you will now owe him for because you were panicking thinking I was in trouble. When, really, you're the one who is in trouble."

Jerking my head back, I snort out a laugh. "I'm fine!"

She narrows her eyes on me. "Noah, I love you with every ounce of me. I love you. You are what keeps me going in here. But, sweetheart, you must let me go and live your own life. I'm holding you back."

Shaking my head, I curl up my lip. "No! I swore to you that I would always visit you. We're a team, and now with this shit going down with the gangs and Atlas, there's no way I am leaving you to fend for yourself."

"I'm going to watch my back, but you need to watch yours too. And you can't keep your wits about you if you're focused on me. I won't have anything happen to you, Noah. I fucking won't. You hear me?"

My heart races frantically as I stare into her watering eyes. "I'm coming to see you every month. I need to know you're okay."

Mom sniffles, clearing her throat. "Then you leave me no choice. I'm going to inform the guards that I only want to see you every three months, and I will make phone calls to you in between to let you know I'm okay."

My heart sinks. "Mom, c'mon."

She exhales, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I have to, Noah. I need you to concentrate on yourself. I need you to think about you for a change." She stands, signaling to the guard.

My breathing quickens as the chair legs scrape on the floor when I stand on the other side of the table with my eyes wide. "Mom, don't do this."

The guard steps up, taking Mom by the arm. "I love you, sweetheart. I'm doing this for you ." She turns, starting to walk away, and panic swarms through me. A red haze washes over my eyes as my fist clenches tight, slamming down onto the table in front of me. "Dammit, Mom!" I yell, making everyone in the room turn to look.

A guard steps up to me while my mom walks through the door and out of my life, and it feels like my world is spinning.

The guard grabs my arm. "You need to leave. You're making a scene."

I yank my arm free and stumble through the room, knocking into another chair and trying to catch my breath. My chest squeezes. I am having a full-blown panic attack. I lean against the wall, both hands pressing on it, breathing in and out, trying to calm my breathing.

Images of my father landing a punch into my mother's face slam into my memory, and I let out a small groan when a gentle hand rests on my back. "Breathe in and out. You're okay, you're safe."

The voice is soothing. Somehow making all the frantic energy swarming inside me feel less agitated and hectic. "In through the nose… out through the mouth," she chimes.

Slowly opening my eyes, I let out a long, steady breath and turn to a woman with short blonde hair and a bright smile. She's pretty, really pretty, but that's not what's capturing my attention right now. It's the fact that she's beaming. Almost like she has a glowing energy about her—it's hard to explain. Maybe I just died, and this woman is an angel who has come to collect me. But that wouldn't make sense because I would definitely be going the other way.

She chuckles, placing her hand out for me to shake. "Hey there, welcome back to Earth. You okay? That seemed pretty intense."

I reach out, shaking her hand with a small nod. "Fuck! Sorry about that," I murmur, still trying to catch my breath.

The guard steps up, dipping his head. "Now you've finished being a pussy, and you've both done with your visits, you need to leave the visiting area. You can collect your things on the way out," he gruffs.

I start to walk through the door and the woman leans into my side. "He's a real ray of sunshine, right?" She giggles.

I smirk while she walks beside me down the hall to retrieve our belongings. "So, ahh… thank you… for in there. That's never happened to me before," I murmur under my breath.

She weakly smiles. "Yeah… it has. But it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's why I'm here. I run a health and wellness app, and the prison systems are looking at diversifying to see if we can incorporate a section for inmates so they can control their inner and outer wellness while being incarcerated."

I glance at her to see if she's joking and quickly realize she isn't. "That's a real thing?"

She snorts out a laugh, glancing down at my patch. "LA Defiance, huh?"

"You want to see if your app can work on bikers next?" I quip.

She smiles wide as the guards hand back our phones, amongst other things. She giggles in her cheery manner. "I already know it does."

Furrowing my brow, I tilt my head. "Huh?" I ask, and then she practically skips toward the exit.

"Catch ya 'round, Prospect. Say hi to Loki for me."

Jerking my head back, I take off after her. "Who do I tell him says hi?"

She glances over her shoulder before pushing through the door. "Bea. He'll know who I am. Take it easy. Drink plenty of water," she yells, and everyone looks at me before she rushes out the door.

I stop walking, scrubbing at my head while Rhonda chuckles from behind her cubical. "She's a sassy one that Bea. Way too good for the likes of you, Noah Drake."

Scowling, I roll my eyes. "It wasn't like that, Rhonda."

"Mm-hmm, whatever you say, cowboy. Now get out of my reception area. You've already made one too many scenes here today."

Snorting, I head for the exit, my chest still tight from anxiety, and I leave with more questions than I came with.

Who is this gang Atlas is tied to?

Why is Mom pushing me away?

We've always been a team.

Through all of this fucked-up mess, we've stuck together, now she's shutting me out.

It feels wrong.

Clearly, I don't know how to cope. Having a panic attack in the middle of the prison visitor's ward was not something I wanted to happen. The inmates would have seen. It's a weakness they will take advantage of against my mother and probably me.

I screwed up.

Again.

I go to my bike, throw my leg over my ride, and sit momentarily, looking back at the prison.

What a fucking mess.