He licked his lips. “I am.”
“You were a year away from taking your vows, Harlow. Are you certain you want to step down this path?”
Her voice was soft, gentler than I was used to hearing from her. Rachel was more likely to bark directives at me than offer me hope couched in a dulcet tone.
He, not unsurprisingly, responded to it. “I-I made my decision when I left the seminary. This isn’t about good vs. evil. This isn’t about sinning. This is about monsters.
"If it means my eternal soul has to burn in hell to make sure those monsters can’t torment another child, I’ll do it. I’ve made my peace with that.”
Rachel bit her lip as she shot me a glance. I half-expected for her to be cold with me, for there to be icicles in the connection between us, but instead, she looked… lost.
I got it.
I often felt like that around Nyx.
What was another burden to bear?
I heaved a sigh. “You become a Prospect. You patch in. You become a brother. Then we’ll revisit this situation.”
“How long will it take to patch in?” he rasped.
“Don’t think about the duration. Think about it as a time to see if you can cope with what we’re asking of you.”
“Like the seminary,” Rachel intoned. “Just with guns and drugs.”
Harlow tensed.
My lips twitched at her comment, but his tension didn’t escape my notice. “Harlow, once you become a Prospect, it’s a turning point. You can still leave, you can still back out, but if you report us to the cops, you will be dealt with. There’s no way out of that.”
His gaze was measured as it settled on mine. “I’d expect no less.”
“Prospects get all the worst jobs,” Rachel said softly as she drifted over to the table.
“She’s right. They do. Disgusting jobs as well. Thankless jobs. No pay. You’ll board at the clubhouse and we’ll feed you and you’ll have no bills but it’s… grim. Until you become a brother.”
“No grimmer than a jail cell. I know that’s where I’ll end up if I don’t have help.” He blinked. “I was a Stoic. Now, I’m a Pyrrhonist.”
Rachel sighed. “You won’t find ataraxia with this life choice, Harlow. You should really take a few days to think about your next steps.”
Ataraxia was a philosophical state of being—it was mental tranquility.
Along the journey of achieving ataraxia, epoche, or suspension of judgment, was one of the steps toward finding happiness in this philosophy.
“It’s better than the hell I’m living now but you’re right. I’ll think about my decision.”
As he uttered those words, words that would be fateful for him, I stared at my girl.
Her life was hell.
She’d made the best of it, or she was trying to, but she was as trapped as Harlow was.
Did she know that I’d do anything to free her from that?
Did she know that there was no price I wouldn’t pay to just give her a night’s sleep free from her memories?
Rachel's eyes swept down as if she heard the questions I hadn’t spoken aloud.
But much as I expected, she had no answer.
THIRTEEN
RACHEL
I’LL BE MISSING YOU (FEAT. 112) DIDDY, FAITH EVANS, 112
I went with him to the hospital.
I even rode bitch on the back of his bike.
The wind blasted me, smacking me flat in the face, cutting through my leather jacket and heavy-duty jeans, but I needed it.
I was still dopey.
Still fragile after that goddamn nightmare.
It was torture to find peace in Rex’s arms, only to drift into a warzone once I slept…
I pressed my face against his back, feeling his tension, sensing his misery. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he was a dutiful man.
For all that I disapproved of his life choices, well aware that he had the acuity to become so much more than the Prez of a bunch of outlaws, I knew he was selfless when it came to those he loved.
He’d do this today for Bear. It would eat away at him for the rest of his life, the guilt and the shame, but he’d do it because his father asked him to.
That was Rex.
My Rex.
I blew out a breath in an attempt to shift my train of thought, but it was either focus on what was about to happen or what had happened earlier. Letting myself remember the nightmare would only antagonize me, and as for Harlow, well, what was there to even say about him?
He was so fucking young. Had had so much potential. But since I was a kid, I’d known that the world wasn’t black and white.
What he’d be doing would be worthwhile.
It’d make more of a difference than him taking vows of celibacy and poverty…
I wished the ride to the hospital took longer than it did, but too quickly, Rex was pulling up into the parking lot and I was climbing off the back.
I’d forgotten how intimate riding bitch was and knew that was why most of the brothers never allowed clubwhores on the back of their bikes—God forbid they move beyond their station.
As I unfastened my helmet and handed it to him, my phone vibrated in my jacket. While he rested it on the handlebars, I quickly replied to Parker’s text and wished her a Merry Christmas, then gave him my hand.
He eyed it. “I must look like shit if you think I need my hand held.”
My throat was tight. “Maybe I need mine held?”
He grunted but instantly tangled our fingers together.
“Do you think he’ll wake up and talk to us?”
“Do you want to convince him against—”
“No.” I shook my head to compound that. “I just want to say goodbye.”
His smile was sad. “I don’t know if he will. We’ll find out, I guess.”
He pulled me closer to him and, together, we walked through the parking lot toward the front entrance.
“I’m surprised you’re not giving me crap about Harlow.”
“Do I ever give you crap about Nyx?” I asked lightly.
“No. But… Harlow’s different, isn’t he?”
I hummed. “His family is wealthy. Did you know that?”
He shrugged. “Never really thought about it. Haune was their gardener, wasn’t he?”
“He was. That’s how he got Jessie.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes,” I said, tone stark. “You know gray is my favorite color.”
He snorted. “Good thing or you wouldn’t be my lawyer anymore.”
I’d paid my dues to him years ago, and we both knew that.
“I’m not here for the MC.”
Rex paused. “No?” He turned to look at me. “I thought that was the only reason you stuck around.”
“I was thinking, this year, of moving to Manhattan, but I wasn’t going to dump the MC. I would never give up your account.” When he tensed up at my admission, and wanting to change the subject, I muttered, “At least we know how Harlow learned who… you know.”
He nodded. “Doesn’t diminish his threat. He could still go to the authorities with an eyewitness confession.”