Styx nodded, and I climbed out of the truck. He pulled away, and I went to Tanner’s room—to my husband. Tanner sat up as I came through the door. He took one look at my face and held out his arms. I immediately climbed on the bed and fell into his embrace.
And I cried. I cried for the life lost and the dream shattered. And Tanner never let go through it all. The man who I knew would never fail me, never stop loving me, always be by my side.
When my tears had been shed, I silently handed him the picture. Tanner’s face filled with sadness. “She loved me,” I whispered. “She loved me very much.”
Tanner rolled to the side, and cupped my face. “You’re real easy to love, princess.” It was then I realized I had it. The life my mother wanted for me. I had a man who loved me. A brother who I was determined to know. A nephew who I would spoil . . . and freedom. Such sweet freedom to live a life of meaning and happiness.
“We need to live for her,” I told Tanner and held the picture to my chest. “We need to be happy for her . . . my mother . . . Lucy Sinclair.”
“We will,” Tanner whispered and kissed me. “We so fucking will.”
I was forever going to hold him to that promise.
I couldn’t wait to start.
Chapter Eighteen
Styx
McKinney, Texas
I kicked open the door of the trailer the fucker lived in. The asshole got up from his chair. I didn’t even hesitate, just pulled out my German blade and stabbed the fucker through the heart. His eyes widened, and he fell to the floor. Blood seeped out around him, and I spat on his ugly fucking face.
I met his eyes, and watched as my uncle, Matthew fucking Sinclair, stared into the eyes of his nephew. The son of the woman he raped and abused, causing her to run away. His motherfucking sister.
I made fucking sure he would remember the face of the man who killed him.
Me.
Styx fucking Nash.
President of the Hades Hangmen.
The son of Lucy Sinclair.
When the rapist was dead, I got back on my bike and went the fuck home. To Mae and Charon. My club and my sister.
And with every mile I tore up road, I thought how life was real fucking good. And I was gonna keep it that way.
Just like my mama wanted.
Epilogue
Tanner
Two weeks later . . .
“There,” Tank said and sat back from the bed. Fucker smiled. “My best—and most challenging—work yet.”
He held out his hand for me to take. He pulled me off the bed. My wounds were mostly healed, still hurt like a motherfucker, but I didn’t give a shit. I was alive. And if I had to lie in this bed and not be able to fuck my woman or do club runs, thought I’d best make it productive.
It was time for the Nazi shit to go.
I walked to the mirror and stared at my body. There was no fascist crap on me anymore. Not one swastika. Not one piece of white-power shit left on my skin. It was now replaced with Hades, demons, and whatever the fuck else Tank wanted to put on me. I didn’t care. “Good?” Tank asked, putting his tattoo gun away. It’d taken two weeks. Two weeks to gradually cover every bit of my skin, from feet to neck.
“It’s good,” I said and shook Tank’s hand.
Beau came through the door and stared at my chest. “Nice work,” he said to Tank, then me. Beau was staying in an apartment just outside the Hangmen compound. I’d tried to convince him to prospect for the Hangmen. We’d see. Beau kept everything so fucking close to his chest. Never knew what he was thinking most of the time. But my brother would be good for this club. Just had to give him time to get to that conclusion himself.
“Get dressed,” Tank said and threw me my shirt, jeans, and cut off the floor.
“Why the fuck am I here?” Beau asked Tank. Tank had ordered Beau to the club today. Told me I had to be dressed for something. Fuck knew what.
Fucker smirked. “You’ll see.”
The door went again, and Adelita walked though. My jaw almost hit the fucking floor when I saw her. She was dressed in a tight red dress, her usual red lipstick on her lips. Her dark hair was down,