Chapter 47 Impossible truth
Sage's POV
I stared at the photo until the image burned itself into my brain.
It was the image of my brother and my father, fighting in the clubhouse parking lot less than an hour before my father was murdered. The evidence was right there in black and white, timestamped and damning.
"It's probably fake," I said but my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.
Ryder looked at the photo under the light from the window. "The shadows are right. The background details match. If this is fake, it's a really good one. But why now? Why send this photo after everything that already happened?"
I didn't have an answer for that. Tommy had left a few minutes ago after making us promise to be careful. Now it was just me and Ryder in this shabby motel room, holding evidence that could destroy what was left of my family.
"We need to ask him directly," I said again.
"And if he did it?"
The question sounded like a bomb in the room. What would I do if my brother confessed to murdering our father? Could I turn him in? Could I forgive him?
I didn't know.
I pulled out my phone and called Jaxon before I could talk myself out of it. It rang four times before he answered.
"What?" His voice was rough, and cracked as if he hadn't said a word for some hours.
"I need to see you."
"Sage, I can't do this right now."
"Please. Just you and me. No club, no drama. I need to talk to my brother."
There was a long silence on the other end. Then a heavy sigh. "Where?"
"That diner on Route 9."
"When?"
"One hour."
"Fine. But Ryder stays away. This is between us."
He hung up before I could respond.
Ryder looked at me with concern. "Are you sure about this?"
"No. But I have to know the truth."
The drive to the diner felt like it took forever but when we got there, I still had a lot on my mind as if the drive also took no time at all. Ryder parked down the street where he could see the entrance but wouldn't be directly visible from inside.
"I'll be right here," he said. "If anything feels wrong, you get out. I don't care what Jaxon says or does."
"I know."
I walked into the diner alone and I saw my brother Jaxon sitting in a booth at the back, staring into a cup of coffee like it held answers to questions he couldn't ask.
He looked terrible. His face was bruised from the fight with Ryder yesterday. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was messy like he has forgotten to drag a comb through it for days. The brother who sat across from me looked at least ten years older than he was yesterday.
I slid into the booth without saying anything. The waitress came over but I waved her away.
"Did you fight with Dad the night he died?" I asked directly. There was no point in dancing around it.
Jaxon's hands tightened around his coffee cup. "Yes."
The confirmation hit me like a punch even though I kinda expected it. "What about?"
He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"He told me what he had done. He told me about being a federal informant. About selling out other clubs to keep us safe." Jaxon's jaw clenched. "I confronted him about the marriage contract with Diego that he signed without asking you. Without even telling me."
"What did you say?"
"I told him he was a coward. That he had betrayed everything we stood for." He paused a bit and he looked like he was trying to gather himself. "I said he was no better than the enemies we fought against. That our mom would be ashamed of what he had become."
I felt my throat tighten. Those were harsh words, the kind you couldn't take back.
"We screamed at each other in his office for twenty minutes before heading out to the parking lot," Jaxon continued. "He tried to explain that he did it to protect us, that working with the feds was the only way to survive. But I was so angry I couldn't hear him."
"What happened then?"
"He got in his truck and I went inside to cool off, to think about what to do with everything he had told me." Jaxon's voice cracked. "And then I heard the gunshots. By the time I got back outside, he was already dead."
I searched his face, looking for any sign he was lying. But all I saw was pain and guilt and grief so deep it looked like it might swallow him whole.
"I should have stayed with him," Jaxon said. "I should have made sure he got home safe. But I was so pissed off that I left him leave alone and someone killed him."
"Who took the photo?" I asked.
"What photo?"
I pulled it out and slid it across the table. Jaxon stared at it, his face going pale.
"Where did you get this?"
"Someone left it at the clubhouse this morning. It was an anonymous delivery." I watched his reaction carefully. "They wrote a message on the back. 'Brothers kill brothers.'"
"I didn't kill him." Jaxon looked up at me with desperate eyes. "Sage, I swear I didn't kill our dad. I was angry and I said terrible things, but I didn't hurt him."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know. How am I supposed to know?"
I wanted to believe him. Every part of me wanted to trust that my brother wasn't capable of murder, especially the murder of our own father, his own blood. But the evidence kept piling up, the secrets kept multiplying, and I didn't know what was true anymore.
"Tell me everything," I said. "Tell me everything Dad told you that night. No more secrets."
Jaxon stared at me for a few seconds, as if he was weighing his options in his head, then he nodded slowly.
"Okay. But you're not going to like it."