Chapter 111 111
DIESEL POV
“What the fuck are you looking for now??” Hawk growled from behind me again.
“Told you not to follow me. You should have stayed with Raven. So shut the fuck up and breathe till I’m done,” I said without turning around. I yanked open another drawer in Daisy’s old apartment, rifling through old papers and junk like my life depended on it.
Her father’s photo. That was what I needed.
If the coward was still alive, he couldn’t hide forever. He needed to fix what he’d ruined in his daughter — the fear, the debt, the years of being treated like nothing. I wasn’t sure yet if I’d put a bullet in him or force him to face her, but I needed to see his face first. I needed something to go on.
“You should be somewhere here,” I muttered, eyes scanning the room again.
Suddenly my eyes landed on a small, faded photo album tucked at the back of the drawer.
I pulled it out and flipped it open.
The first picture stopped me cold.
Daisy as a little girl, smiling wide with a birthday cake in front of her. The writing on the cake read “Happy 8th Birthday, Daisy” and right below it, in careful handwriting: March 14.
My chest tightened.
March 14.
Three days from now.
She would be turning twenty-three in three fucking days.
And she hadn’t said a single word about it.
Not one hint. Not even a casual mention. She had been sleeping in my bed, giving me her body, her tears, her trust… and she let her own birthday creep up like it was just another empty day. Or worse — she didn’t even remember it anymore.
The realization hit me hard. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
I really didn’t know my woman’s birthday. And apparently, she had stopped caring about it herself.
I flipped a few more pages. Every birthday photo confirmed the same date. March 14.
I closed the album slowly, jaw tight, a heavy ache settling deep in my chest. While I was here hunting for a picture of the man who had destroyed her life, I stumbled onto proof that she had been quietly erasing her own special days for years. No one had made her feel important. No one had given her a reason to look forward to March 14.
Including me — until now.
Hawk shifted behind me. “You good, D?”
I didn’t answer right away. I slipped the album into my cut and stood up, still gripping the ache in my chest.
“There’s an emergency to deal with first,” I said, heading for the door. My mind was already spinning with plans.
As we walked out, I muttered to Hawk, “Let me teach you how to be romantic from now on.”
He snorted. “The fuck does that mean?”
I swung my leg over my bike. “Means I’ve got three days to give my girl the kind of day she deserves.
The ride back gave me time to think. She deserved to smile the way she did when those boutique bags made her eyes light up. She deserved one day where the world stopped and celebrated her — not the girl who had to be strong every single day.
Just Daisy.
My Daisy.
• • I returned to the clubhouse late at midnight.
It was crazy how long it took, but setting up a beautiful plan for her birthday wasn’t something I could rush. I wanted it right.
As I parked the bike and headed inside, I spotted Raven from afar. At first I thought she would turn back when she saw us, but she walked straight toward us instead. Her red hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, a few strands escaping like she’d been running her hands through it in frustration. Her face looked tired — dark circles under her eyes — but it was set with clear determination, lips pressed into a thin line.
She stopped right in front of me, bowed her head slightly in an unusual way. Raven is not the type that greeted me normally.
“Welcome back, Diesel.”
She didn’t wait for me to answer. She turned straight to Hawk, her body language making it crystal clear she was here for him — shoulders squared, one hand resting on her hip, weight shifted onto one leg like she was ready for a fight but trying to hold it back.
“I will soon be back, that’s what you said,” she told him, her voice sharp with an edge that cut through the quiet hallway. “Is this what you called soon? Coming by 1:35am?”
The way she said it… Even Hawk — and me — were shocked. Raven giving him that tone? Never like this. Never with that mix of clear frustration and something softer underneath, like a girlfriend giving that puppy fake-upset face — brows slightly furrowed, lips pushed out in a pout that didn’t quite hide the worry in her eyes, cheeks faintly flushed.
It had never existed on Raven’s face toward Hawk of all people…
I looked at Hawk. His strong face had already turned red. The big man actually stammered, stunned, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I… uh… something came up. I didn’t mean to—”
I smiled, understanding this kind of moment definitely excluded me, and kept walking, leaving Hawk to deal with it.
Upstairs in our quarters, the room was dark except for the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Daisy was asleep in the black lace lingerie I’d picked for her. The delicate fabric hugged her curves, thin straps slipping off her shoulders, her skin glowing softly in the low light. My eyes dropped to her smooth thighs and my cock instantly hardened. God… I won’t wake her.
I moved quietly, adjusting the pillow under her head.
The small movement made her stir. Her eyes fluttered open.
“You’re finally back,” she said, voice sleepy and soft.
But I could smell alcohol on her breath. She looked drunk.
“Do you drink??” I asked.
She nodded slowly, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. “Not because I’m sad. It’s for celebration. Jax said I should celebrate with the brothers since I’m off the bounty and thank them all.” Then she gave me that drunk puppy face and added in a sleepy voice, “But now I’m owing Jax a lot of money… I’m a debtor again.”
I let out a deep breath. “Alright. You should sleep now.”
“Noooo,” she whined, still pouting. She pointed at the lingerie. “Don’t you see? I put it on for you.”
The black lace looked sinful — hugging her breasts perfectly, riding up her thighs. My cock twitched hard.
But no. Not like this.
“You should sleep, Daisy,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She didn’t listen. “No,” she whispered, dragging me down with surprising strength and pressing her lips to mine in a messy, eager kiss.
I kissed her back for a few seconds — I couldn’t help it. Her mouth was warm, tasting of alcohol and sweetness. My hand slid to her waist.
But something felt wrong. She was drunk. Still recovering. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage when she wasn’t fully herself.
I started to pull back gently.
Then — boom.
Her face went pale. She broke the kiss and vomited right on my chest. The warm, sour liquid soaked through my shirt instantly.
She looked horrified, eyes wide, hand flying to her mouth.
“Oh my God… I’m so sorry…” she whispered, voice cracking.
I froze, then let out a long, tired sigh.
This was not how I imagined the night ending.