Chapter 180 Hope is Dangerous
Chapter 180 Hope is Dangerous
Lily
All eyes snapped toward me. The weight of their stares pressed against my skin. I blinked, confused, clutching the edge of the wall for balance.
“What?” I managed.
Knox’s jaw tightened, his hand gesturing at my leg. “You’re leaking.”
I frowned, puzzled, then glanced down. Blood was spilling from my thigh.
“Oh.” That explained the pain lancing up my leg. That explained why I felt shaky, why every step had felt heavier than the last.
Doc pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “I swear to God…” He pushed to his feet so quickly his chair screeched across the floor, making several people flinch.
“I patch you up once,” he muttered, crossing the distance with quick, irritated strides, “and you decide to bleed through every damn stitch I put in?”
I lifted a hand in weak defense. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You never do.” Doc’s reply was automatic, almost fond in its irritation.
Victor, who still had Doc’s needle stuck in his shoulder, snorted out a laugh.
Instantly, Doc’s glare found him. “You laugh again and I’ll sew your damn mouth shut too.”
Victor wisely shut up, glancing away with a grimace.
Doc reached my side, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he guided me toward an empty chair beside Victor. “Sit,” he ordered.
“I’m fine,” I protested, even as my knees trembled.
“No,” he said, voice brooking no argument.
“I just came to—”
“Lily.” The warning in his tone could’ve stopped a freight train.
I let my breath out in a sigh and lowered myself into the chair. The wood creaked beneath me, and I tried not to wince. Doc immediately dropped to one knee, his hands moving with brisk efficiency.
“And here I thought today couldn’t possibly get any worse.”
“What?” I asked, peering down.
“You ripped half your stitches,” he grumbled.
I cringed. “Oops.”
Doc looked up, eyebrows raised. “Oops?”
I shrugged, weak and sheepish. “I underestimated the walking part.”
Victor couldn’t help himself, he let out a bark of laughter, only to yelp as Doc jabbed the needle harder than necessary into his shoulder.
“Motherf—”
“Language,” Doc snapped, not missing a beat.
Victor glared incredulously. “…Seriously?”
Doc didn’t even look at him. “I don’t care if the clubhouse is burning down. You’re still not swearing in my infirmary.”
“This isn’t your infirmary.”
“It is until I leave.”
Victor let out a theatrical sigh. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
Doc’s hands were steady as he threaded another stitch through my skin. The sharp sting barely registered. A week ago, I’d have cussed him out, tried to yank my leg away, threatened to do my own stitching just to prove a point. Now… I simply stared at the tabletop. The pain faded to background noise, swallowed by the ache in my chest.
Doc noticed. He always noticed. His hands slowed.
“I’d rather you yell at me,” he murmured.
I looked down at him, confused. “…Why?”
“Because it means you’re still fighting.”
I swallowed, throat thick. “I don’t have the energy.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“So let me fight for you,” he said, voice impossibly kind.
The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
Before anyone could say a word, the front doors slammed open so hard the windows rattled in their frames.
“LUCIAN?” Nicole’s voice rang out, shrill with hope and fear. “I brought—”
She stepped inside, juggling two paper bags from the diner. Her smile flickered, faltered, and vanished as her eyes swept the room.
“…Lucian?”
She searched every face. Knox, standing tall behind the President’s chair. Darius, silent behind the Vice President’s. Elias, Victor, me. Everyone, except the one she’d come looking for.
“No…”
The paper bags slipped from her hands, scattering fries, burgers, and drinks across the floor. She took a single, stumbling step forward.
“No…”
Her gaze landed on Lucian’s cut, folded with care across the Church table. Her knees gave out. She collapsed, the impact echoing like a gunshot.
“No…” Her voice was raw, broken, barely human. “No…”
I pushed against the chair, desperate to reach her. “I’ve got her—”
Doc’s hand clamped over my shoulder, holding me down. “No, you don’t.”
“But I need—”
Victor reached across the table, grabbing my wrist. His touch was gentle, but his words left no room for protest. “Lily. Stay.”
“But—”
“Stay,” he repeated, softer this time.
Across the room, Nathaniel moved. He knelt beside Nicole just as another sob tore from her chest. “Oh God…” She clung to him, fists twisted in his shirt.
“No…”
Nathaniel’s eyes brimmed with tears as he pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“No…” she shook her head, desperate. “He promised.” She screamed, the sound ragged and wild. “He promised he’d come home!”
Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her as she fought, clawing at his chest. “I need him!” she wailed.
“I know,” Nathaniel said, voice breaking.
“I NEED MY HUSBAND!” Her scream was primal, anguish made flesh. The sound raised every hair on my body.
Nathaniel somehow managed to lift her, though her legs buckled beneath her. “It’s okay,” he said, guiding her into the chair beside me.
“No, it isn’t!” she sobbed.
He nodded, voice gentle. “I know.”
The moment she sat, Nicole collapsed forward, face buried in her hands, her whole body wracked by violent, shaking sobs. For a brief, helpless moment, I reached out, our fingers tangling together. Neither of us spoke.
What words could possibly make this better?
There were none.
The room was silent but for Nicole’s shattering grief. For a long time, it was the only sound.
Then Victor’s phone buzzed, the vibration loud in the hush. He frowned, glancing at the screen, then answered.
“Yeah?” he said quietly.
Silence.
His face drained of color. “You sure?” Another pause. “…Alright.”
He hung up, staring at the phone as if expecting it to bite him.
Knox’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
Victor finally looked up. “They found Belle.”
Every head lifted. I felt my heart stutter, hope and dread tangled together.
Knox straightened, tense. “Where?”
Victor swallowed hard. “Highway Nine.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“They found a female body a few days ago,” Victor said, reluctance thick in his voice. “Face was… unrecognizable.”
A chill crawled up my spine.
“No…”
Victor looked down. “She had Belle’s ID. Her jewelry. Her clothes. The ME thinks it’s her.”
Darius’s eyes narrowed. “How the hell did you get that information before I did?”
Victor shrugged, sheepish. “I know the Medical Examiner.”
Darius raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Victor scratched his neck, awkward. “…I’ve slept with her a few times.”
The room stared.
Doc didn’t even pause. “Of course you have,” he muttered.
Victor shrugged, unrepentant. “What? She likes bikers.”
Normally, Jinx would’ve laughed. Lucian would’ve rolled his eyes. Someone would’ve cracked a joke. No one did.
Knox leaned forward, bracing both hands on the table. “You sure it’s Belle?”
Victor shook his head, slow and grim. “They can’t identify her visually. Dental records are being pulled. DNA’s pending. They’re pretty sure.”
Pretty sure.
My stomach twisted. Belle. God, Belle.
The realization hit like a sucker punch. Somewhere between prospecting and patching in, between learning to fight and learning to survive, between Caleb and Lucian and Ash, I’d forgotten... Belle was my best friend.
We’d steal fries from the diner, climb onto the clubhouse roof, and watch the sunrise... just the two of us. She knew every stupid dream I ever had. Every secret.
Then prospecting started. There was always something else. Another lesson, another ride, another bruise. Another reason to tell myself: Tomorrow. I’ll find Belle tomorrow.
Tomorrow became next week. Next week became next month. Then she was gone.
I covered my mouth, but the sob escaped anyway. Nicole’s hand found mine, squeezing tight. We clung to each other in the storm.
Knox stared at the table, silent for a long time. Finally, he looked at Victor.
“Find out if it’s really her.”
Victor nodded once. “You think she’s alive?”
Knox’s jaw clenched. “I think Rourke lied about too many damn things.”
He looked around the room, eyes hard and bright with tears. “I’m not burying another member of this family… until I know for damn sure.”