Chapter 183 Tributes on Him

Chapter 183 Tributes on Him
Lily

I had grown up on my father’s stories.

Stories told around the campfire, smoke curling into the night while his voice carried across the circle. Stories at the dinner table, his hands always moving, painting pictures in the air. Stories whispered while he patched up my scraped knees after I’d tried to climb something I absolutely shouldn’t have. I thought I knew his every inflection, the twist of humor in his words, the way he smiled when he reached the good parts.

But today, standing at the podium, my father sounded like someone else.

He steadied himself with one hand against Lucian’s casket, eyes fixed on the polished wood for a long, aching moment before he managed to look up at the crowd.

“I’ve known Lucian…” his voice was quiet, almost fragile, “…for thirty-six years.”

A hush settled over the cemetery, deeper than any silence I’d ever known.

“We met because we got into a fistfight.”

A few soft, broken chuckles rippled through the mourners. Even Nicole let out a watery, hiccuping laugh.

Dad’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t a good one either. He knocked my ass flat.”

Another ripple of laughter... small, but real.

“I’d like to tell you I got him back…” he glanced out at the crowd, a glint of mischief flickering briefly, “…but I’d be lying.”

The laughter that followed was stitched with grief, but it was there, the faintest flicker of light in the darkness.

“He won.” Dad nodded at Lucian’s casket. “He reminded me about it every damn year after.”

A smile tugged at my lips, passing as quickly as it came. That was Lucian, competitive, relentless, impossible not to love.

Dad’s smile faded, sadness softening every line of his face. “The funny thing about Lucian…” he went on, “he was the loudest man you’d ever meet. You knew when he walked into a room. You knew when he walked into a bar. You definitely knew when he walked into a police station.”

Even the officers standing at the back chuckled, some wiping tears from their eyes. I saw one old deputy grinning through the ache.

“But…” Dad’s voice gentled, turning inward. “The loudest people… are often the ones doing the quietest work.”

He looked out, his gaze sweeping over the crowd beyond the rows of bikes and black jackets. “Most people knew Lucian as the man who threatened criminals. The man who scared drug dealers. The biker who walked into places he wasn’t welcome. They saw the leather. The tattoos. The scars. They saw the President.”

His voice broke slightly on the next words. “But they didn’t see the man who quietly paid someone’s electric bill when they couldn’t afford it.”

Dad’s voice was steady. “They didn’t see the single mother who found groceries on her porch every Christmas. They didn’t see the little boy whose bicycle mysteriously appeared after his was stolen. They didn’t see him spending entire weekends rebuilding wheelchair ramps for veterans. They didn’t see him sitting with dying brothers in hospitals because nobody should leave this world alone.”

A lump rose in my throat. These were things I’d never known. Things Lucian had hidden behind gruff jokes and rough words.

I glanced toward Knox. He didn’t look surprised. Of course he wasn’t. He’d always known the truth behind the myth.

Dad smiled, bittersweet. “Lucian hated being thanked. If you caught him helping somebody… he’d threaten to punch you if you told anyone.”

The laughter that followed was softer, sadder, but it bent the grief just a little.

“He wanted people to believe he was mean.” Dad’s eyes shimmered. “…Truth is… he was one of the kindest men I’ve ever had the privilege of calling my brother.”

Nicole covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her, steady as a stone wall. Even Atlas looked away, hiding his face from the crowd.

Dad’s hand never left Lucian’s casket. “I trusted this man with my daughter.” His voice splintered, ragged with loss. “And if you’re a father… you know there isn’t a greater act of trust than that.”

He looked at me, just for a second, but long enough that I thought my heart would break. “I knew… that if anything ever happened to Lily… Lucian would burn the world down to bring her home.”

Tears blurred my vision. He would have. He did. He’d threatened to more than once. Somehow, I’d never realized until now that he’d meant every word.

Dad faced the mourners once more, searching for the right words. “I didn’t lose a President today. I didn’t lose a biker. I lost my brother.” His hands gripped the casket, knuckles white, as his voice finally broke. “And… I don’t know how to exist in a world that doesn’t have him in it.”

The silence that followed was absolute. No engines, no birds, just the sound of thousands quietly crying together.

Dad leaned down, pressing his forehead to the casket, shoulders shaking. He whispered something private, something meant for Lucian alone.

When he finally stepped away, the entire cemetery rose, united, not by command but by love. Applause began, slow at first, then swelling, echoing across the hills. Bikers, police, teachers, shopkeepers, children, everyone, together, honoring the man who’d made their world a little safer, a little brighter.

I wiped at my cheeks, surprised to find them wet. Beside me, Jinx’s fingers tightened around mine, not with pain, but with quiet reassurance. I squeezed back... thank you.

I tried to ground myself in the applause, to listen as the pastor welcomed the next speaker, to breathe. But inside, another battle had already begun.

My stomach twisted with fear.

How was I supposed to speak in front of all these people? How could I talk about my brother without falling apart? What if I couldn’t do it? What if I disappointed him?

No. I swallowed hard. I would keep my promise. Even if it killed me.

Nathaniel rose, moving toward the podium with steps that looked heavy as stone. He paused beside Ash’s casket, his hand finding the worn leather of Ash’s cut, thumb brushing over it like a prayer.

For a long moment, he couldn’t speak. He simply stood, staring at the man he’d loved like a brother. Then he faced the crowd.

“When people think about Ash…” Nathaniel’s voice trembled into a small smile, “…most of them won’t.”

Confused chuckles drifted through the crowd.

“That’s exactly how he’d want it.” Another quiet laugh. “He never wanted attention. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t flashy. He didn’t care who got the credit. He just… got things done.”

Nathaniel looked down at the casket. “If Lucian was the storm… Ash was the anchor.” His smile wavered, grief peeking through. “You always knew where to find him. Always knew he’d show up. And if he told you something would get handled… you stopped worrying. Because it already was.”

He let out a shaky breath. “He wasn’t just one hell of a biker… he was the kind of brother… every club hopes they’re lucky enough to have.”

Nathaniel rested his palm on the casket, voice almost lost in the quiet. “And I was.”