was just another shitty, painful version of today?
But Bronco didn’t kill me. And I got right with the Executioners. Now, I have a woman. Living ended up being a good thing.
“She can’t come with us,” Bronco says, gesturing toward Pixie.
“She can’t stay behind at my house.”
“Leave her with Topanga and Lana.”
Glancing at Pixie, I know she’ll run away. She won’t settle down until she sees her family.
I hold Bronco’s gaze and explain as respectfully as I can, “She needs to convince her family to come.”
Maybe Bronco understands how, if I don’t get Pixie’s family with his help, that I’ll go back later and take them alone. He’s a smart man who must show strength. Except I’m acting weak and stupid. He needs me to listen to him, but I have no choice. Pixie will go back to the Village if I don’t save her family. John Marks could kill her. Would Bronco let his honey die? No, so how come I need to be a bitch and put mine at risk?
“Bringing Village freaks here,” Wyatt grumbles, moving away from me and toward his father, Rooster, in case I get grabby again, “is a bad idea. What the fuck are they going to do in the Woodlands?”
I realize right away how Wyatt’s big mouth is the reason I’ll get what I want. Bronco can’t stand his nephew, and he likes to undercut the younger man. Having Wyatt say no inspires Bronco to say yes.
“If we drive into the Village and demand her family, we’ll piss off a lot of people,” Bronco says and then smirks at Lowell. “We’ll make Marks appear weak. The Volkshalberd believe weakness is a sign of a poor bloodline.”
“His people will also think of how Pixie fucked with Marks and got fed. How they behave and starve,” Lowell says and glances at Pixie pacing around my black SUV. “We can go in there respectful, or we can go in like a bunch of assholes.”
“I’ve never been respectful, and I’m not starting now,” Bronco says, nearly snarling. “If those Village shits want to think of me as a Parrish, I’ll show them how the Parrish family handles a problem. Get everyone saddled up. We’re going in hard.”
Exhaling quietly, I ignore Wyatt’s anger and Bronco’s quick disapproving glance at me. I turn around toward Pixie, who instantly notices my gaze on her.
“Let’s get Mama,” she says breathlessly when I approach.
“You have to stay calm,” I insist, and she shakes her head. “You can’t run around or jump out of the car when we get there. No yelling for your family.”
Pixie can’t obey. She grew up with “no” on the tip of her tongue. Apparently, the Dandelion Collective was big on expressing oneself. Living in the Village under the thumb of Marks must drive her nuts.
As much as I understand how she wants to break free, Pixie doesn’t know how the world outside her cult works.
“If you don’t behave, your family might die,” I say, and she stops shaking her head. “The Village has guns. My club has guns.”
Pixie runs her fingers over her chest. “Guns kill. Like Papa.”
“Yes, and there will be a lot of nervous people holding those guns. If you run around or yell, they might make a mistake and start shooting.” Pixie’s dark eyes study my face. Her father was killed by a gun. She doesn’t understand them like I do. That’s why she agrees to behave and let me take charge. “Whatever happens, stay in the car. Don’t run around, looking for your mama. Okay?”
Her expression is as unreadable as Bronco’s was earlier. Then she smiles and takes my hand with both of hers. “You’re strong like a grand sequoia.”
“And I’ll keep you safe if you let me.”
Pixie lets go of me and messes with her pants. Though I worry she’ll yank them off and run around bare ass, she isn’t a child. She understands rules, even if she hates them. That’s why I’m certain she’ll do as I tell her when we get to the Village.
PIXIE
As we return to the Village, the black car—called an SUV—is surrounded by big bikes. Anders keeps glancing at me in the seat next to his. He’s nervous. I am too. I woke up feeling as if Mama might be in her next story. No matter how strong, she can’t fight the demon guns.
“Mama,” I whisper as we arrive at the Village’s front gates.