Chapter 11RoseVox

Chapter 11

Rose

Last night was magical. Like what you see in romantic movies, or at least, I imagine that’s what it seems like, because I’ve never actually seen one. But Jezebel, whose parents only came into the community a few years ago, told me she saw plenty when she was younger. She talked about them with stars in her eyes, still swooning over the main characters.

Wished I had seen one.

All I know is what my parents taught me to expect from a husband and the few marital classes we had last year. Classes where we were specifically explained how the reproductive organs worked with drawings of one single physical act the man and women, married obviously, must perform in order to make children.

Our teacher, Mrs Ellies, gave us extensive details about the act to become with child. So not the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Actually, physical touch, even between married people, is seen badly in our community and should only take place in the aim to make children.

Which is why I’m so confused.

Vox and I shared many intimate moments since the first time I stepped away from him in the garden, shocked by his handsome bare chest and his tattoos still inked in my mind like permanent marker on a blank canvas. Being with him feels right and wild at the same time.

Should I indulge in it or back away?

Before losing my voice, I was a faithful follower, never arguing or questioning anything. But since then, a lot has changed. Losing my voice became a strength, something I didn’t see coming, just like Vox.

Which is why I don’t get it when most people look at me with pity.

They don't realize how powerful it is.

Becoming mute made me focus on the things that I used to overlook and the many inconsistencies of my beliefs. As each day passed, I started questioning more our traditions.

Why did I have to dress like this? Why wasn’t I allowed to watch a movie like any other girl?

So many things just don’t make sense.

Never, in my many years at the Institute, from the age of two, did I learn who wrote the Ascendium, our holy book where all our guidelines and principles are written. Our Shepherd always refers to it as the most sacred text, but the origins remain a mystery to everyone. The Shepherd says our teachings are sacred, but I'm starting to wonder.

Were all those rules written for our own good, or to control us?

The more I think about it, the more I see how sheltered I've been. I’ve been living in a bubble, away from the real world. The outside world, the one I see glimpses of with Vox while he reads to me or makes me listen to the sweetest music I’ve ever heard. It just seems… colorful . It's as if Vox had opened a window to a world I never knew existed, one where laughter is free and smiles come naturally.

With him, I find a glimpse of freedom, a taste of a life I've never dared to imagine. His presence ignites a fire in me, urging me to break free from the chains of the Faithful Lambs and explore this new world that lies beyond our walls.

But what if I’m wrong?

The thought of defying the Shepherd and his teachings that have shaped my entire existence fills me with fear.

What if there's no life beyond our community, and I'm doomed to lose myself in the darkness of the outside world, taking for granted the life I always knew?

Vox told me about our Shepherd working with his club, buying… guns.

Dear god.

I don’t want to believe him, but then, why would he lie to me? He’s the only one who ever took care of me, despite not being from the community.

I want to know more, look for the signs that he’s indeed right. I need to talk with the Shepherd, just him and I. Only Elders can ask for a meeting with him, but if I am to become his wife, I believe I have the right to know the whole truth. My hands are sweating at this idea, but I need to know.

With Vox by my side, I feel stronger, less… alone.

Confronting the Shepherd is a risk. He could punish me for it, for daring to speak up my fears.

What if Vox is wrong? What if the Shepherd's intentions are pure, and I am simply misinterpreting his actions?

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady myself, pushing back the doubts that threaten to consume me. If the Shepherd accept to see me, it won’t be a walk in the park and the idea of being alone with him in a closed room is enough to make my anxiety spike through the roof. I know I need to prepare myself for whatever truths may emerge because confronting him is the only way I'll find clarity about my future.

On one side, there's the path I know, the one that's safe and predictable. It's about adhering to tradition, following the rules laid out for me since birth. But then there's another path, the one Vox embodies—a path filled with uncertainty but also with the promise of freedom and so much more .

Do I keep following blindly, or do I look for truth outside our community?

I don't know what's next, but finding my own way feels like a tiny light in the dark.

-

I arrived at the Institute after my father drove me a few minutes ago. I told him I wanted to talk to the Shepherd to express my gratitude towards him for making me his wife. Don’t know how they bought it, but here I am, waiting in the corridor, outside the Shepherd's office. My skirt prickles against my legs. I’d rather be wearing a shorter skirt; it would feel less suffocating.

The Shepherd's office doors loom before me, huge and scary.

Just like him.

Alone on a plastic chair, I wait anxiously, my hands clammy from nerves. My mom opted to stay home, and my father, surprisingly, remained in the car. I expected him to accompany me so I wouldn’t be alone with another man, but he didn’t. My fingers fidget, twisting and turning, as I anticipate the moment the dark doors will swing open.

I glance down at my bag resting on the floor by my feet, my lifeline containing only a notebook and pen. And then, my hand brushes against it—the phone Vox gave me. I'm not sure why I brought it, perhaps for comfort, to feel his presence beside me. I want to reach out to him, text him about the last chapters he read to me, but the doors interrupt my thoughts with their abrupt creaking.

"Rose," the Shepherd's voice pierces the silence. I nod in response, unsettled by his departure from our customary greetings. He should normally say “To cleanse our sins” to which I would answer “we must obey”. This is the only form of greeting in our community.

Why is he not applying his own rule?

"Come in, child." He gestures with an outstretched hand, his tone commanding yet oddly cold. I rise from the chair, all of the sudden wishing I had never come. Something feels off about the Shepherd today, a darkness lurking beneath his facade. With a deep breath, I follow him into the office.

As I step into the dimly lit room, the heavy door closes behind me with a dull thud, and I'm suddenly facing the large wooden desk. The Shepherd stands at the center of the room, his presence towering over me with a creepy smile dancing on his face.

"Sit," he commands, gesturing towards a chair opposite his imposing desk. I comply silently, my heart pounding in my chest as I await his next words. He follows me and stands next to the chair, above me.

Instead of the usual distant tone I'm used to, he sighs and his gaze bores into mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I hate that I'm sitting right now, below him, literally and physically while he observes me like I'm his next meal.

"Rose," he begins, his voice squeaky, "You wanted to see your Shepherd, why?”

I suddenly cringe at him talking about himself in third person. I'm used to it but somehow, right now, it feels disturbing and out of place. Without the eye of the community, I'm just a girl in front of an old man wearing an odd gown. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dries as I take my pen and my notebook from my bag. Writing something, I turn the paper towards him.

“Thank you for meeting me, Holy Shepherd, your time is valuable. I'm honored to be in your presence alone.” That should flatter him, not that he needs it, but I know I can't just ask for whatever I want.

It doesn't work that way.

He'll need to see my submission to not suspect my wariness.

“Alone.” He clicks his tongue in his mouth. “I wanted to be alone with you for a long time, little lamb,” he says, chuckling, getting closer to me and angling his head near my left ear, making my blood freeze under my skin. Everything in my body tells me to push him with all the strength I have, to run away from him as fast as I can, and perhaps even punch him.

Not a single nerve of my body tells me to stay.

Not one.

Yet he is my fiancé, my leader, my future husband.

But no.

No. No. No.

This isn't happening. I can't stand the idea of sharing a home, a life, with this man. Everything in him repulses me, from his dusty smell to his crooked nose and yellowish nails. His hand tucks a stray hair behind my ear, making me wish I could yell. His icy touch feels like a knife on my skin.

I shut my eyes.

Vox.

My dark knight.

We're dancing in his living room, his hands pulling me close to his muscular chest as I nestle my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his addictive leather scent.

I want to be with him so bad right now, so I hold on to our stolen moments like a lifeline helping me to get through this meeting.

Time to play it smart if I want my answers before it ends.

"Holy Shepherd," I write as he pulls back a bit, my hand trembling as I address the revered leader of our community, "as your fiancée, I must ask: do you truly believe in honesty within our community?"

Playing the dumb innocent lamb is the only strategy I thought about to get what I need.

The Shepherd's eyes glint as he reads my question, his lips curling into a patronizing smile. "Honesty, child," he replies, his voice dripping with condescension, "is a virtue that must be wielded with care. You see, it’s a tool better kept hidden and offered on rare occasions."

My stomach churns at his callous dismissal of such an important value, but I steel myself and press on, still holding on to hope that he's the leader I've always known.

"And what of the outside world?" I write, my hand trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. "Do you truly believe it to be as corrupt and deceitful as you claim?"

The Shepherd's expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he regards me with thinly veiled contempt.

"The outside world," his voice laced with disdain, "is a cesspool of sin and depravity, a place where the weak are preyed upon by the strong. But fear not, my darling, for I will protect you from its vile influence."

His words send a chill down my spine, and I can't shake the feeling that he's using fear to maintain his control over me, and perhaps… over all of us . The outside world can't be such a dark place if people like Vox exist in it.

Not everything can be so black or white.

"And what of you?" I write, my hand shaking with suppressed anger. "Can I trust you to act with honesty and integrity as my husband?”

The Shepherd's laughter fills the room, a cold, hollow sound that makes my blood turn to ice. "Humm, you’re already calling me your husband? I like this word in your naughty mouth.”

Ew.

I’m mute, how can he even say such a thing?

The man standing in front of me has nothing to do with the leader I’m used to seeing each Sunday morning at the Chapel. So there’s two sides to him.

Vox isn’t wrong, Rose, you know it.

He scoffs before continuing. “And trust?" His eyes flash with malice. "Trust is for the foolish, child. But rest assured, you, my wife, will never have to think of such serious topics. You'll stay home with our children, keeping our bed warm for me to take you whenever I want.”

His words hang in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over me.

I used to, god, I used to admire him. How could I’ve been so stupid?

I realize that he is nothing more than a manipulative puppeteer pulling the strings of our lives for his own twisted amusement.

I could have asked about the disappearing girls, about the guns, about why a man like him would be seen in a motorcycle club. But really, all I needed was already said. How little he cared for the community, how he switched to another side of him, darker and twisted, far from the warm appearance he usually offered. How much he didn't care about me, my wants or how he diminished me to my feminine parts, the only thing that truly interested him.

Vox was right.

This man, whom I once thought to be a pillar of strength and integrity, is nothing but a manipulative impostor, using his position of power to bend others to his will. I can feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on my body, his eyes glinting with malice. He is not the man I thought he was. He is not the leader our community deserves. He is nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing, preying on the innocent and vulnerable for his own selfish gain. And yet, even as the realization settles in, a part of me hesitates to fully accept it.

Has my entire life been a lie from the beginning?

The Ascendium, my classmates, my parents, each of my prayers before bed talking to the Divine, it can't be all false. Maybe this man is an imposter, but everything I've ever known, my beliefs, my prayers, there must be some truth to it. I did not devote my life to a fantasy.

What if I did?

Shaking my head slightly, I take a deep breath.

No, not everything is false. It can't be. I couldn't face it, losing every pillar of my existence in a cloud of dust.

Deep down you know it, Rose.

Tears fill my eyes and I do all I can to not let them fall onto my cheeks. I don't want him to see me vulnerable, not now, not ever.

I want Vox right now.

So, so badly.

Only he can make it all better.

Keeping my composure, I write and stand abruptly, needing to get out before having the panic attack I feel rising in my chest.

“Thank you so much, Holy Shepherd, I won't take more of your precious time.” Nodding, I grab my bag and head to the door.

“Not so fast, little lamb.” A shiver runs on my shoulders like a cold breeze. “Don't you want to give your fiancé a goodbye kiss, child?”

A kiss?

Hell no.

This is too much.

The only man I want to kiss is wearing leather and drives a metal beast that roars like a lion. The only man I'll ever want to feel the touch of has the voice of an old soul embodied in a Greek god with blue eyes I could get lost in forever.

Acting like I didn't hear him, I jog to the door, push it and run to the nearest room to hide. My heart pounds faster in my chest, and I just know that I am having a panic attack.

I need to find a safe place and I need it now.

A library.

Thank god.

I never go to this floor, it’s forbidden to the young members, so I’m lucky to have found a refuge like this one. I don't hear footsteps outside the door where my back is resting, my chest heaving like I just ran a marathon.

Good, he didn't follow me.

There's no one here, so I find a place to hide between two shelves of books in a corner and take out Vox’s phone, holding it with my two hands like a little treasure. I don't know if he expects me to write to him, but I don't even think twice about it. He's all I need right now.

Angel : Are you free right now?

My fingers are shaking while I tap each letter.

Vox : Everything okay Angel?

He answers right away, as if he had his eyes on this conversation before I even sent my text.

Angel : I only have two minutes but… could I call you? I just want to hear your voice.

I know I need to get down as fast as possible, but I’ll take the risk of calling him if I can. Waiting for his answer, my phone vibrates in my hand with Vox’s incoming call.

Thank god.

“Hi Angel,” his raspy voice echoes. I wish I could answer back but I can't, so I text him instead.

“I don't want to bother you,” I write, blush rising on my cheeks.

“None of that, Angel, told ya, you need me anytime, I'll be there,” he shushes me right away in his protective tone that I'm growing to really like.

“Thank you,” I text him.

“Can't really talk right now, I'm not alone, sweetheart.” He sounds almost disappointed with a hint of… worry? “I'm gonna stay on the line, and you hang up when you want, okay, Angel?”

My heart is hammering in my chest as I think of how much he cares for me, and how he manages to make it all better even if I can't talk and he is busy. Quite the opposite of the man I met with a few minutes before.

“Fuck, I can hear your breathin’ from here, Angel, just breathe. I’m here with ya, I got ya,” he says before letting the noise of men's voices and metal in the background fill the space of our call, like a white noise surrounding us, leaving us in our own bubble, on this silent call.

We stay like this for a minute, my breathing getting back to normal, hearing his inhale and exhale like the most additive sounds I'll ever want to listen to.

“Good girl,” he says, making my stomach churn in a foreign way.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. Go back home, rest, and then come to my place and I'll take care of you. Now I want you to hang up and get out of the building.”

How does he know where I am? Is he following me? Why does this idea do nothing but make me burn even harder for him?

My dark knight, keeping an eye on me.

Well, I don't hate it.

Far from it actually.

Vox

“Sweetheart? Guys, Vox finally has a chick!” Steele fake-punches my shoulder with a large fuckin’ grin on his face. Ignorin’ the amused glances and chuckles from the others, I clear my throat and steer the conversation back to the matter at hand, feeling Ares’s disapprovin’ gaze on me.

Never mix business and women, that's his motto.

"Alright, let's refocus, everyone," I say, my tone firm. "We have a lot to discuss regarding the takeover of Seattle.” We’re planning to extend our territory and take it from the Steelhawks Chapter, ensurin’ that every detail is meticulously planned to minimize any potential risks or a bloodbath.

Ares stands and starts givin’ each of us a dedicated task, which I already know when we prepared this meeting together. He is all about mind games and strategy; he likes things to go as planned and fuckin' hates when an obstacle stands in his way. He lives for the club, like all of us. Once each guy knows what he has to do, he dismisses them.

“Alright, off to work,” he says as each guy leaves the large room only furnished with a massive wooden table and twelve chairs around it. Not more. Cause sittin’ there is fuckin' earned.

“I'll give you a rundown of the situation in 48 hours,” I say, as his loyal right-hand man.

He grunts in response, his jaw clenching. Is he nervous? Not unusual during a takeover. That sort of thing can go south real fuckin' fast. We need to watch our backs even more than usual.

“Come grab a cold one with me.” It’s not a question.

What does he want?

Followin’ him, we take the stairs and leave the basement to the main hall where the bar is. One of the club chicks is serving the guys, brown hair, pushing her tits in front of them as if they were not already completely out. I shake my head, thinking about my sweet girl and her innocent eyes.

Ares sits on a stool a bit far from the others and I sit next to him. Without a word, the chick jogs towards him with two beers, like a puppy. I sigh.

“What's up?”

“What’s up?” he says back in an accusatory tone.

I furrow my brows.

W hat's up with him? We have a fuckin' takeover on our hands, not the fuckin' time to play twenty questions at the bar.

“Who's she?” he asks, taking a gulp from the bottle. “The chick who called you.”

“She's my neighbor,” I say as casually as I can.

His eyes narrow. “Neighbor, huh? You answer your neighbour’s calls during a fuckin' club meeting?” he says casually, tilting his head, but I can sense he’s fuckin' pissed.

“You know the club is my priority, never gave you any reason to doubt me.”

“Yeah, well, don't start now.”

“Ares,” I sigh, cause I fuckin’ hate deep talk and shit like that. “You're my prez, but this girl, she’s, fuck, she matters.”

There, I said it.

“Fuck, lookin' damn serious already. That's a shame.”

“Why?” I furrow my brows.

“Cause you're moving,” he says casually, drinking his beer.

“Since when?”

“Since I just decided my VP can’t fuckin’ think straight without talkin’ to his booty call and I need you sharp and fuckin' ready for the takeover.”

No, I can’t. I can’t move away from her. Fuck. Every fiber of my body urges me to fight this.

“It's not like that.” Cause my angel has nothin’ to do with the chicks here, and what we have is more than anyone will ever understand. I want to lash at him but he's my prez; things don't work this way, not in our club. I owe respect and loyalty to him, especially since he's the one who saved me from the streets after the accident. I clench my fists, looking faraway, envisioning the idea of being far from my girl.

Fuck.

It fuckin’ hurts.

Can’t stomach the idea. Damn it, I literally can't imagine not seeing her pouty lips and thick braid every single damn day.

“See? I knew it.” Shakin’ his head, he says, “Eyes don't lie, brother.”

I don't even answer. I just stare at him with, for the first time in my life, daggers in my eyes for my prez. For the first time, I want to punch him for tryin’ to keep my angel away from me.

“Never gave you a reason to fuckin' doubt me and now you're sending me the fuck away for shit Bones or Wrath could take care of.”

“It's you I need there.”

I shake my head silently, showing him how pissed I am. I know Ares has made his decision, and I respect him as my president, but that doesn't dull the ache in my chest. Leavin’ her behind feels like tearin’ a piece of my chest away, like a fuckin' sacrifice I'm not sure I can live with.

“What about ya?” Perhaps I can put some sense into him. Cause if anythin’, Rose is makin’ me more eager to work my ass off at the club to make all her dreams come true. That’s how deep I am.

“What about me?” he asks, lifting a brow.

“Ain't you gonna take O'Brian’s daughter to cover his debt?”

“Maybe,” he says with a small evil grin.

“How’s that for mixing women and club business?” My heart skips a beat at the thought of Rose crying and alone in bed at night while I have to watch her through a screen from the other side of the country.

“It's different, brother, and you know it.” Emptying his beer, he continues, “I don't fuckin' plan on keepin’ her. She's just a chess piece, won't be a real thing,” emphasizing the words real thing .

“Got all I need here,” he says as he gawks at the barmaid. I know he doesn’t fuckin’ care about any of the chicks here, but I’m sure he’s actually fuckin’ nervous about Mia O’brian comin’ and possible messin’ up his ordered control-freak life.

“Alright, that's settled. We'll talk details tomorrow, keep me updated,” he says before standing, patting my shoulder harder than usual, and leaving toward his office.

I stare at the bottle in my hand, picturing my girl saying goodbye, and I suddenly feel my blood pumping under my skin, clenching the bottle so hard I release it before it shatters in my hand.

Ares is forcing a fuckin' impossible choice on me, something I never thought I would need to do. Before Rose, I wouldn’t even give any thought about moving to the other side of the country for the club. Whatever Ares’s needs. Would've been an honor to command Seattle as his right-wing man and manage all our men there.

But right now, it just tastes bitter. Like a dream you finally get to have and realize it wasn’t actually the real deal. That what you’ve been wantin’ all this time was actually in front of ya.

Her.

Always kept my walls up, even for my brothers. Always tried to stay away from meaningful relationships, from anythin’ that could become too real .

Well, here I fuckin' am, feeling real fuckin' things for an angel I haven't even shared a kiss with.

When she called me earlier, I knew somethin’ was wrong. She had taken the phone with her when it usually stays hidden in her room. But not this time. Today she took it in her school bag. Maybe she wanted to have a way to reach me whenever. Or perhaps she knew there was a tracker in it and she wanted me to see where she was in case somethin’ went wrong. Don't have a fuckin’ clue but she took it for a reason, so when I saw her call, there was no way in hell I wouldn't have answered it.

Even with hands deep in the guts of a dead guy, I would have still answered.

How can I convince Ares to stay? How can I tell her that I'm going away?

Fuck, I already picture her watery eyes and it strikes me like a punch in the guts. I need to find a solution, a way to make this work. Pinchin’ the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath to calm the fuck down. We'll be together tonight, we're gonna talk, and it's gonna be okay.

It's gonna be okay.

Yeah.

Sure.