Inhaling a deep breath, it’s my turn to speak. What I don’t do is plead or beg. I know that it would make me look weaker than I already do and I look pretty goddamn weak right about now.
“I’m under no illusion that I will ever truly be part of the brotherhood again,” I begin. “I fucked up. I let my anger and jealousy take over. I ignored the rules, and I selfishly tried to take the life of a man that was my brother. It was reckless, it was stupid, and it was selfish.”
There’s a long moment of silence before Eagle speaks again. “You want back or do you want me to end you now?” he asks me again.
“I wish that I could go back,” I say. “If I could, I would change so fucking much, but I can’t. If the club would allow me to try again, a second chance, I’d take it and never do anyone wrong again.”
I can feel all of the men’s eyes on me. They are focused and looking nowhere else. Then Dragon clears his throat.
“Lock him up. We’ll deliberate.”
Hands wrap around my shoulders and pick me up from behind. I’m turned around and then pushed out of the room. Shifting my gaze through the bar, my eyes land on Pinkie and Pammy. She’s safe. I let out a breath of relief as I’m guided toward the holding room.
We don’t use it often, as in fucking never. When the door to the room opens, my ropes are removed, and I’m pushed forward right before the door slams and I hear the lock being shifted into place.
I don’t bother looking back, instead, I walk over to the window. There are bars that have been welded into place. Lifting my hands, I curl my fingers around the iron bars and look out at the desertscape in front of me.
Pammy is safe and alive, that’s all that matters. Even if I die tomorrow, I know that my brothers would at least keep her safe for as long as she needs protecting. They would do that because unlike the Punchers, they don’t hurt women like that.
Dropping my head, I close my eyes and wonder what is going to happen next. They could kill me, they could end me, and there is nothing I could do to stop them. I wouldn’t either. I welcome any form of punishment they want to dish out.
I snort to myself, thinking about my dad and how he would love this shit. He’d love to see me weak and helpless—worthless, just like he always said I was. I am too, always have been. I’ve been living in a dream world, playing pretend at being anything but a worthless piece of shit.
PAMELA
I watch in disbelief as the men drag Dylan away. Blinking, I look over to the woman across from me. She looks a lot like my mom, big boobs, big blonde hair, skinny waist. I can tell by the way that she’s dressed she isn’t an Old Lady. This is a whore.
“You okay, honey? Is there anything I can get you?” she asks, her voice surprisingly sweet sounding.
Shifting my eyes from Dylan, I turn to her. “What are they going to do to Dylan?” I ask as I turn my head to look in his direction again.
Her brows pinch together and she follows my gaze. “Jaguar?” she asks. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
Licking my lips, I watch as he disappears down a dark hallway before I turn back to her. “If that’s Dylan, then yeah,” I say.
A wave of what looks like pity crosses her face. “Honey,” she whispers. “He probably won’t live to make it another day.”
“What?” I breathe.
She nods her head once. “He tried to kill one of his own. If he lives, I’d be surprised.”
“But he’s good. He saved me,” I whisper.
She shakes her head, her eyes finding mine and holding them. There is something in her gaze. She knows a lot, she’s seen a lot, she’s been through a lot.
There is a deep sadness behind her eyes and it makes me want to know what caused it. She’s probably been to hell and back, I can see it lingering deep down inside of her. She’s a kindred spirit in her own way, but she holds it close to her and I’ll probably never know the depths of her pain.
“He ain’t bad, but he’s done something unforgivable. You know the life, babe. You know the rules. They act like they don’t have them, but their rules are there and they are not to be broken.”
She’s not wrong.
Not at all.
I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what I would even say when a beautiful blonde sinks down in the chair next to me and lets out a sigh. She’s holding a baby and he wriggles in her arms.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Pinkie warns.
She snorts. “Like I’m going to let this all go down without me being near? Please.”
“Still, if it goes down, you don’t need to see it,” Pinkie mutters.
There is a long pause and then I feel something in my hair. Turning slightly, the baby has his fingers tangled in my hair and I smile at the dark-haired, beautiful boy. He smiles back, proudly showing me his four teeth and slobbery smile right before he yanks down on my hair—hard.
“Santi, stop that,” the woman scolds as she peels his fingers from his tight grip on my hair.
Turning my head, I really look at him. Giving him a smile, I tell him that it’s okay. He coos and throws his hands up in baby excitement.
“I’m sorry, I was rude. I’m Della,” the woman offers with a smile.
“I’m Pamela,” I say.
She frowns before her gaze sweeps around the room. “Who are you?”
“Della,” Pinkie hisses.
Della shrugs a shoulder as if she hasn’t pried at all. “You’re the only clubwhore out here and I know that’s because you’re not
