As everyone settled in, a weird bundle of nerves unfurled inside me.
I didn’t belong here.
This wasn’t right.
I had no place here—
“Okay, Posse, new faces are with us today so I think we all need to agree that we’ll keep that in mind and won’t scare them away.”
Amara grinned. “Scaring is what I do best.”
Giulia, who was seated to her left, shoved her in the side. “Shut up, you.”
It wasn’t bitchy, more amused.
Jesus.
Amara and Giulia—kindred spirits?
The other woman had been living at my place too, so I knew what she was like. Knew that her caustic tongue had only been exacerbated since Hawk and Quin had become her Old Men.
“You don’t have to temper yourselves for me,” I stated calmly. “I deal with your men on the regular.”
Tiffany just smiled. “You might do that, but this is different. This isn’t ‘business Rachel,’ this is the ‘real Rachel’ we’re going to be talking to.”
“I guess,” I said uneasily, not appreciating the comparison.
Who the hell was the ‘real Rachel?’
Sometimes, I spoke business like it was its own language.
I don’t belong here—
Tiffany hummed as she took a seat. “I’m not going to make you talk, Rachel. If anything, you don’t have to say a word. You can listen. But if you have questions, feel free to ask them. Just raise your hand, okay?” She beamed a smile at me, one that was supposed to put me at ease but made me more nervous. How could someone expect so little yet it made me feel like she was asking for the world? “Anyone got anything on their minds?”
Giulia shot me a glance. “Is it okay if I tell them?”
I darted her a look then stared fixedly at the table. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
Maybe it’d be easier—her saying what had happened without me having to actually tell the story.
“I found out yesterday that my dad was a rapist.”
Her words settled amid the women like fallout from a nuclear bomb.
Lodestar grunted and cracked her knuckles. Fitting seeing as she’d been the one to ‘recycle’ Dog.
The act came without apology, as if Giulia had merely confirmed that she’d been right to handle Dog.
“That’s a lot to process,” Tiffany said softly.
“Damn straight it is,” Giulia snarled, slamming her hand against the glass. Amara jumped at the sound, so did Alessa, but no one else appeared shocked by Giulia’s outburst. Not even myself, and I didn’t really know her that well, just knew she was volatile. “I-I can’t get it out of my head.”
“You found out yesterday?” Indy asked, and her voice housed a quiver that made me cement my gaze to the table.
She’d known Dog all her life.
Grizzly too.
They were familiar faces; Grizzly had even held a position of power on the council.
The terror was as real now as it ever was.
Would they believe me?
But… why would they?
My mom was a whore. Why shouldn’t I be one too?
“Yeah. Last night,” Giulia breathed.
“Well, it’s still fresh. That’s why it’s in your head—”
“No, Indy. It’s not that. Did he rape my mom too? She was a cunt, don’t get me wrong, and if he hit her, she hit him back, but this is different. They wouldn’t always have been like that.”
I thought back to my childhood. Axel had brought us to West Orange when I was nine, and there was an eleven-year age gap between Giulia and me. I’d babysat her, Hawk, and North, so I’d been around to see their rocky relationship a lot more than she had.
“Lizzie changed,” I said slowly, gaze fixed on my glass now where a bead of condensation dripped down the side of it.
Stone nodded. “She did.”
“In what way?” Tiffany questioned.
“She wasn’t always like that—so quick to fight back,” I muttered, reaching for my water now.
Giulia swallowed. “Do you think he—”
“I don’t know. How could I know?” I sucked in a breath. “They were high, Giulia. Both of them stank of weed. To this day, I can’t—” I choked on the words. “That smell. God, I hate it. I hate it so much.” My spare hand tightened into a fist and I pressed my knuckles into the table. “But they were stoned. I’m not even sure if they remember what happened.”
“Who was your other attacker?” Tiffany queried gently.
“Grizzly,” I said grimly, eyes on my knuckles which were a bright white.
“Sin’s dad?” she demanded, her tone sharp.
Shoulders hunching, I nodded. “Yeah.”
“He’s Bear’s brother?” Alessa rasped, her damaged voice soft and low.
“Yes, he was. He’s dead now.”
“Sin beat him to death,” Tiffany remarked, her focus on me. “Weed doesn’t trigger memory loss.”
“Maybe they were on something else—”
“Would it be easier on you if they’d forgotten what they did?”
I had no idea why the question hit me on the raw. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it matters,” Indy concurred. “I mean, they didn’t leave, did they? They stuck around. Their lives weren’t impacted. It’d be easier to think that they didn’t remember, because how could they act as if nothing happened if they did? But they were dicks. Grizzly more than most.
“I remember when he died, thinking, ‘Well, thank God that prick’s gonna be maggot food soon.’ He was a troublemaker and always starting shit that got everyone into trouble. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason why Two Knives’ dad is still in prison.”
“Whereas, if they did know, the fact they could waltz around the clubhouse like nothing had happened is a thousand times worse, isn’t it?” Stone queried, but her tone was kind.
I gave her a jerky nod, surprised by how quickly we’d dived into these kinds of details.
“Waltzing?” Amara laughed, but it was dark. Bitter. “These bastards. I’d make them waltz. I’d string them up—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Tiffany grumbled. “We know, Amara, but torture isn’t always the answer. That’s not going to help Rachel, is it?”
She sniffed. “Maybe it would. They would hurt like they made her hurt. Justice is sweet.”
“Justice isn’t possible when both men are dead,” Lily said sharply, reiterating, “That’s not going to help, Amara.”
The other woman clucked her tongue but shot me a look. Her expression was… unusual. I was pretty certain that everyone here knew Amara was batshit, but for all that her regular craziness shone through loud and clear; her expression was also softer.
Piteous.
No. Kind.
We were all victims here.
Pity held no place when we’d all experienced a mutual horror.
Giulia was right—we knew what it was to be at the mercy of other people.
This was a safe space.
Their understanding and acceptance didn’t stop the nausea from plaguing me; it was a heavy weight in my stomach as Tiffany asked, “Have you ever talked about what happened that night? Was it the one time or did it happen again?”