Chapter 17

Chapter 17
Ashley
Gray: Gonna be busy all day. Pack a bag. Want you to stay at my place.
I stare at the text, propped against my pillow with the sheet clutched to my chest—not because I'm embarrassed. Please. Gray's already seen every inch of this fine-ass body, and I'd flash the whole damn block before I ever pretended to be ashamed of it. 
The sheet's just something to hold on to while I fight the urge to yeet my phone across the room.
Stay at his place? The hell does that even mean—one night? A week? Am I pulling up with a cute little overnight bag, or should I be backing a U-Haul into his driveway? 
My thumb hovers the screen, itching to fire back a smartass, "define pack a bag." But under the attitude, my chest squeezes tight. Because if Gray's really asking me to stay with him, then maybe—just maybe—he's not bullshitting about the promises he made yesterday. 
I should be hyped. Thrilled, even. But Gray's not the "let's play house" type. He doesn't invite anyone into his space unless he means it.
And me? I've been running my mouth for months about how I wanted more, how I deserved more. Now it's sitting in my lap like a loaded gun, and I don't know if I'm ready to pull the trigger—or bolt. 
Which is exactly why I hit call on Alyssa's contact before I can think myself in circles. 
She answers on the third ring, her voice groggy like I just woke her up. "Ash? Everything okay?"
"No," I blurt, already pacing the length of my bedroom with the sheet trailing behind me like some half-naked superhero in crisis. "Your brother texted me a few hours ago telling me to pack a bag because I'm staying at his place. What the fuck does that even mean? Am I like... moving in? Or is this a forty-eight-hour booty call? Help me, because I'm spiraling, bitch."
There's a pause—and then Alyssa straight up laughs. Not a chuckle, not a polite giggle. Full-on cackles, like I just cracked a joke instead of confessing my mental breakdown. 
"Wow," I deadpan, flopping back onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. "So glad my emotional crisis is good comedy for you."
"Sorry, sorry," she chokes out between snickers. "It's just... Ash, you've been begging Gray to pull his head out of his ass for months. And now that he finally does, you're acting like he dropped on one knee and proposed over text."
"Because he basically did!" I shoot back, staring at the ceiling like it's got answers. "We made up yesterday, and now he's asking me to stay with him. Usually, we just fuck at his place and he drives me home. This? This is uncharted territory. And I need a damn compass."
Alyssa hums. "First of all—TMI. Second, take a deep breath. Why don't you text him back and ask him to clarify? I'm sure church is over by now—it's been four hours."
"Do you think he found out what happened to the missing girls already?" I ask, the thought slipping out before I can stop it.
Silence.
Her pause stretches too long, too quiet.
"Wait... missing girls? What the hell are you talking about?"
I freeze. So King, Niko, and Mason haven't told her? 
I know Gray's known for days. Did he just fill the club in this morning—or are her men straight-up keeping it from her?
"Are you kidding me right now?" I shoot upright, the sheet sliding to the floor but I don't care. "They didn't tell you? Alyssa, this isn't somethin' small—this is kids we're talking about. Missing girls. And Gray brought it up a few days ago." I shake my head, anger crawling up my chest. "Either he just clued the club in this morning, or your men are keeping you in the dark."
There's a sharp inhale on her end, followed by a low curse. "Of course they're hiding something," she mutters, her voice tight. "I knew it. I felt it the other night when they all came home late. And now this? Gray called church twice this week, and that's never happened before. I was finally going to ask them this morning, but when I woke up, they were already gone."
"Oh, hell nah," I snap. "So they really are keeping shit from you? That's some bullshit. Drop the kids off at Carol's and let's roll up at the clubhouse. Demand answers. Because what they're not gonna do is sit up in there plotting some dangerous-ass mission while you're left out of the loop. Nuh-uh. Not on my watch."
Alyssa groans. "That sounds insane. But fuck it, you're right. I feel like they're going back to treating me like some fragile doll, and if that's true, we have a whole fucking lot to talk about."
"Bet. I'm gonna get ready right now. I'll meet you at your house."
"Okay. See you soon."
She hangs up, and I toss my phone on the bed before throwing clothes in a duffel like I'm packing for a five-minute eviction notice. Jeans. Boots. A black tee that shows off my belly ring. Lip gloss—because crises or not, I refuse to walk around with dry-ass lips. 
Keys. Jacket. One last look in the mirror, and I'm serving exactly what I always do—fine, fearless, and just reckless enough to make somebody's mama clutch her pearls. 
Gray said "pack a bag"? Cool. He didn't say I had to wait until tonight to see him.
Time to be nosey.
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Alyssa's car swings into the driveway only a few minutes after I get to her giant forest-green mansion.
She hops out in a hoodie and leggings, looking like the badass mom of three she is. Doesn't matter if she's fresh from dropping off the kids or about to go beat somebody's ass over her men—she's got that look that says "don't fuck with me."
And it makes me proud as hell.
Alyssa's not that sweet, quiet girl from high school anymore.
She's fierce. Assertive. Rocking that main character energy she'd always had but never let herself own—until now.
I lean against the hood of my car, duffel slung over my shoulder. "Damn, you made good time," I call with a smirk. "Carol must've snatched those babies up like free samples at Costco."
Her lips twitch like she wants to laugh, but she's too wired to let it out.
"She definitely loves her grandchildren," Alyssa agrees, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her messy bun. 
She moves beside me, leaning against my car with her arms crossed. "You just wanna grab some lunch or something? Suddenly, I'm not really in the mood to play Nancy Drew. I can cuss them out later. Honestly... I just needed a break from the kids. Feels shitty to admit, but I realized just now I'm burnt out."
I shake my head, waving her guilt away like smoke. "Girl, stop. You're with those babies damn near twenty-four seven. You deserve a break. There's nothin' to feel guilty about."
She chews her lip, eyes dropping. "It's just... Isaac always made me feel like shit for needing anything. And the guys keep saying they'd hire a nanny in a heartbeat since I had Eden and Sage, but... I don't know. Feels like I'd be failing as a mom if I agreed."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head. "Failing? Please. You carried twins, pushed 'em out, and you're still holding down three men and a toddler like it's light work. That's not failure... you're a fuckin' badass. A nanny wouldn't make you less of a mom. It'd just mean that days like this, when your men are off doing their MC shit, you'd have backup so you're not drowning in diapers and baby vomit."
She sniffles. "I guess you're right."
I bump her shoulder with mine. "Damn straight I am. You don't gotta do it all alone just to prove you can. Your strength already speaks for itself—everybody sees it."
Her mouth curves, small but real, like she's finally letting a little of the weight slide off her shoulders. I grin back at her and add, "And hey—more free time means more opportunities to make our presence known at the clubhouse. When was the last time you even stepped foot in there?"
"Honestly? I can't even remember," she admits, thoughtful. "I just know it's been a while. I think we brought all the kids there once?"
I arch a brow. "Exactly. You've been in mom mode so long, you forgot you're allowed to have an identity outside of that. You were built for this MC life too. It's in your blood, and I've seen you hold your own. That's just as much a part of you as Eden, Sage, and Zuri are."
Her eyes flick toward me, hesitant but curious. 
"Maybe it's time you owned it," I press, my voice firmer now. "Show the guys you've got every right to be there. Shit, maybe we should even start our own thing. Do more than just sit in their laps and bake fuckin' cookies."
Alyssa snorts, one brow raised. "Like what? Go out on our own dangerous-ass missions?"
I smirk, shaking my head. "Hell no, girl. I'm not tryna be out here dodging bullets and ducking in alleyways. But we could be doing something. You've got the bloodline, I've got the mouth, and if we add Chelsea? We could be the three bad biker bitches of the Crimson Reapers."
Damn. That's got a nice ring to it. Sounds like the title of a messy-ass reality show.
And honestly? I'd binge the hell outta that. 
Alyssa's smile widens. "Funny. This morning you were terrified Gray might be asking you to move in, and now you're plotting a whole ol' lady revolution."
I toss my braids back with a laugh. "Hey, growth happens fast when you've had enough bullshit. Plus, I'm not built to sit around like some trophy wife. If Gray wants me in his world, then he better be ready for all of me."
Alyssa shakes her head, laughing under her breath. "God help Gray. He has no idea what he signed up for."
"Damn right he doesn't," I say, pushing off the hood of my car and strutting toward hers. "But he's about to find out."