ASHES & PAIN
Chapter 6
STITCHES
Kait sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her shirt down over her ribs with a slow, deliberate motion. The room still held the heat of it, the kind that clung to the air even after everything stopped. Sheets twisted. Window cracked just enough to let in dry morning light.
Kolton was behind her, dragging his jeans up, still catching his breath like it meant something more than it did.
She didn’t look at him.
“Last time you froze,” she said.
Kolton let out a short breath, half a laugh that didn’t quite land.
“I didn’t freeze. I was high and being an asshole.”
Kait reached for her boots, fingers steady as she laced them.
“Well, now’s your chance to show them things are different now.”
Kolton grabbed his shirt off the floor, pulling it on as he stepped closer, watching her like he was trying to read something that wasn’t there.
“Things are different,” he said.
“Good. And lose the hat. You look like a little kid.”
Kolton chuckled.
“That’s funny. Lane said the same shit.”
Hearing his name caught her off guard.
“Well, it’s true.”
She stood, finally turning to face him. No heat left in her eyes. No softness. Just focus.
“You’re supposed to look the part too.”
Kolton threw his black baseball cap to the side.
“All right, hat’s off.”
Kait stepped past him, reaching for her kutte.
She slid it on then she turned back to him, closing the distance just enough to make it clear this part mattered.
“You need to understand something. Those guys won’t follow you because of your last name. They’ll follow you when they know they can trust you. When they know you will handle shit when it matters. No hesitation.”
Kolton held her gaze now, something more serious settling in.
“I won’t hesitate,” he said. “Because you’ll be right there with me.”
Kait studied him for a second.
Not emotionally.
Assessing.
Then she adjusted the front of his shirt, quick, efficient—almost the same way she would check a strap or a holster.
“Alright.”
She stepped back.
Distance again.
“And on this run, show some balls,” she added. “Delegate, take charge, give orders.”
Kolton nodded once, slower this time.
“Yeah. I know.”
He believed it.
“They need to hear your voice.”
He nodded.
Kait reached for the door, already done with the conversation.
“Get your head right before we roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
DON & LORAINE’S HOUSE
The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge.
Don stood near the counter, phone still in his hand for a second after the call ended, like he hadn’t fully come back yet.
Then he set it down.
Harder than necessary.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
From the doorway, Loraine’s voice came soft.
“Was that Klaus?”
Don didn’t look at her right away.
“Yeah.”
He reached for the coffee pot, poured without checking if it was still hot.
“Is he coming back soon?”
“No. His mother’s getting worse and club shit’s moving slow.”
Loraine stepped into the kitchen, unhurried, like none of it was urgent.
“Everything feels slow lately,” she said.
Don let out a short breath that almost turned into a laugh but didn’t.
“Yeah. Because everything’s stacking at once.”
He took a sip, didn’t taste it, and set the mug back down.
“And Lane’s not here.”
There it was.
He leaned his hands against the counter, staring down at it.
“Wonder why,” Don said, voice tightening. “He should be my interim VP right now. Clean choice. No questions.”
His jaw flexed.
“Would’ve made everything easier.”
Loraine watched him, quiet.
Then she moved closer, resting her hand lightly against the back of a chair.
“Easy isn’t always what you need,” she said gently.
Don scoffed under his breath.
“No, what I need is someone who doesn’t hesitate.”
He started pacing once across the small kitchen.
“This is the worst time for this shit.”
Loraine tilted her head slightly.
“Or,” she said, “it’s exactly the right time.”
Don looked at her.
She held his gaze, calm as ever.
“Kolton finally gets the chance to step up,” she continued. “To show you what he can do.”
Don’s expression hardened.
“He’s not ready for that type of responsibility.”
Loraine didn’t argue that.
She just stepped a little closer.
“He might surprise you,” she said softly.
Don shook his head once, already dismissing it.
“He’s not Lane.”
And that’s when she said it.
Quiet.
Clean.
“He’s just as much your son as Lane is.”
The shift was immediate.
Don moved before the words even settled.
The chair scraped hard against the floor as he closed the distance in one step, his hand coming up fast—faster than thought—fingers locking around her throat and driving her back just enough to stop her in place.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped.
Low.
Controlled.
But there was nothing restrained about the grip.
His hand tightened.
“You don’t fucking say that… Not out loud. Not ever.”
For a second, the kitchen felt too small.
Too tight.
Loraine didn’t fight him.
Didn’t flinch.
“This is all your fucking fault.”
Don’s grip held.
Then tightened again.
His jaw clenched so hard it showed.
Don held her there for one more second.
Then he let go.
Stepped back.
Air coming in heavier now, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run something off.
Loraine adjusted her collar where his hand had been, smoothing it out with calm, precise fingers.
“Let him try,” she said. “It’s about time you give him a chance.”
Don turned away from her, pacing once more across the kitchen.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up and start getting busy with the Vets Dinner.”
“Everything is ready for that… As usual.”
Loraine watched him for a moment longer, then stepped back toward the doorway.
Don stayed in the kitchen, staring at nothing for a second.
Then his hand came up again—
this time to the back of his neck.
Pressing.
Holding.
Like he could force everything back into place.
mag's alterations
Kait pulled up outside Mags’ place just after the sun had fully settled in.
Same building. Same worn sign. Nothing about it ever changed.
She killed the engine and headed straight for the door without looking around.
Inside smelled like leather and dust.
Mags was at her usual spot, seated behind the worktable, stitching already in motion like it never stopped.
She didn’t look up right away.
“Well, well, well…” she said.
“Good morning, Mag.”
“Been a while. Back wall.”
Kait moved past her, grabbing what she needed without asking. Boxes stacked where they always were. Back patches, rockers, a couple wrapped bundles already labeled for KRAIT MC.
Routine.
“Donovan’s got you moving early,” Mags added, still working.
Kait set one of the boxes on the table.
“Just picking up stock.”
Mags nodded once, like that tracked.
Silence settled in for a few seconds. Only the sound of thread pulling tight through leather.
“I’m surprised he sent a full patch. He’s been only sending prospects lately.”
“I offered. I was heading into town anyway.”
“I think the last time a full patch was here was Lane, getting flags for the two Huntsville boys. How’s he doing?” Mags asked.
Kait didn’t answer right away.
She took a stack of patches out of the box and adjusted a pile in front of her, lining the edges up a little too clean.
She noticed the pause.
“Good. He’s in Huntsville now. He’s the new president up there,” she said.
The stitching stopped.
Just for a second.
Then started again.
Mags didn’t look up immediately.
“Huntsville?”
Not a question.
Kait nodded once.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. President… how time flies. Seems like yesterday he would sit right there, swinging his legs for hours, watching his mother work.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that chair right there.”
Kait glanced at it.
“His mom worked here?”
“Oh, yes. For years. Right up to the day she—”
Mags stopped herself.
Just like that.
“That poor boy.”
Silence settled in.
Thicker this time.
Mags finally lifted her eyes, looking at Kait properly now.
Not long.
Just enough.
“How does that grab ya? Him being gone.”
Kait met her gaze.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. He’s where the MC needs him.”
Flat.
Clean.
Mags held her eyes a moment longer.
Then nodded.
“Mm. That just sounds to me like something you’re supposed to say.”
She went back to stitching like that was the end of it.
But her hand slowed.
Just slightly.
Kait picked up the last bundle, tucking it under her arm.
“It makes no difference how I feel about it.” she said.
Mags didn’t look up.
“Thanks for the patches,” Kait said almost forgetting.
“Things will change. Can’t stop what’s meant to be.”
Kait paused at the door.
Just for a second.
“It wasn’t, Mag.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Kait frowned, something tightening in her chest.
Then she stepped out into the cold, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
Inside, Mags kept working.
Thread pulling through leather.
Slow and even.
HUNTSVILLE
The rope was thick. Old. Fibers rough under the blade.
Lane held it steady against the edge of the workbench, knife angled clean as he drew it through slow, controlled pressure.
Across from him, Don worked the other end loose, pulling slack through with steady hands.
Lane looked at him and scoffed.
“What the fuck… Things that quiet in Dryden that you came all the way here to help me with some posts.”
“I needed to get the fuck out of there. All that Christmas shit is driving me nuts.”
“Too bad I’m missing the Vets Table this year.”
“Why would you? You can still come down.”
“Nah,” he said looking around. “Got too much shit going on here.”
“And you’re doing a damn good job.”
Lane nodded.
Then looked at him.
“So, Klaus is gonna be away for a while.”
“Yeah. He’s got some family shit he’s gotta deal with now, on top of our Viking brothers not knowing how the fuck to deal with some snow.”
Lane chuckled.
“It’s fucking snow. It snows in the States too and we still get shit done.”
“You’re not about to compare the North Pole to the US.”
“Same shit.”
“Right.”
The blade dragged through another inch.
“Prince looked good. He’s all healed up.”
“Yeah. He’s been staying clean too,” Don said.
Lane didn’t look up.
“I noticed.”
“He’s stepping up,” Don added. “Kait’s been keeping him straight.”
That hit him, and he remembered his conversation with Kolton.
Lane’s focus broke.
The blade slipped.
Quick. Sharp.
It opened his palm before he could catch it.
Blood welled fast.
Lane stilled for half a second.
Then pulled the knife back and grabbed a rag off the table, pressing it into his hand.
Don noticed immediately.
“Jesus, son. Careful.”
Lane wrapped the rag tighter.
“Motherfucker.”
Don stepped in closer, not dramatic—just practical. Took Lane’s wrist, turning it slightly to look.
“Let me see.”
Lane didn’t pull away, but he didn’t help either.
“It’s nothing.”
Don checked it quick.
“Bullshit. You might need stitches for that.”
Lane took his hand back, already tightening the wrap.
“I’ll handle it.”
Don studied him for a second longer than necessary.
Then nodded once.
“Alright.”
He stepped back, giving him space.
The rope sat half-cut between them.
Don picked it back up, bracing it against the bench again.
“We’ll finish it later,” he said.
Lane didn’t argue.
Just kept pressure on his hand, eyes down for a second before he reached for the kit on the shelf.
Don watched him move.
Controlled. Efficient.
Like nothing had happened.
Then Don grabbed his jacket.
“I’m gonna call Randy,” he said.
Lane gave a small nod.
Didn’t look up.
“Yeah.”
Don lingered just a second longer.
Then turned and walked out.
Lane waited until the door shut before he eased the rag back.
Looked at the cut.
It was deeper than he thought.
the nest
The bikes rolled back into the Nest just past six.
Engines cut. Heat settled around them.
Kolton swung off his bike first, dragging a hand through his hair like he needed to reset before anyone saw him.
Kait was already off the Kriger, moving toward the bar without waiting.
Inside, it was quieter than it should’ve been.
Kolton stepped in behind her, glancing around.
“Where the hell is everybody?”
“Dad! Kait!” Kyle shot up from his chair, nearly knocking it back as he ran straight at him.
Kolton caught him on instinct, lifting him just enough to steady him before setting him back down.
“Hey, easy,” he said, a quick half-smile flashing and gone.
“Hey, dude,” said Kait.
Kyle was already talking.
“I’ve been here all day,” he said. “Grandma made me do chores twice.”
Kait moved behind the bar without looking at them, grabbing a bottle and a glass.
“Good,” she said.
Kyle wrinkled his nose.
“It wasn’t good.”
Loraine stepped out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“You have to score points with Santa. Christmas is in three days,” she said calmly.
Kyle dropped back into his chair with a sigh, already defeated.
Kolton glanced between them, then back at Loraine.
“So where everybody go?”
“Your father’s in Huntsville,” she said. “Rode with Ram and Diablo.”
Kolton frowned slightly.
“They left this morning.”
Kait poured a drink, didn’t wait.
Kolton leaned against the bar, eyes still on Loraine.
“What for?”
“He just wanted to ride.”
Simple.
Closed.
Kyle kicked his feet lightly against the chair legs, looking between them like he was waiting for something more interesting to happen.
Kait took a drink.
Didn’t ask anything else.
Kolton exhaled through his nose, pushing off the bar.
“Veterans Table’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
Kait set the glass down.
“Everything’s ready. Please try to stay there a little longer than last year. You know how important this is for your father.”
Kyle looked at Kolton.
“Can we go home?” he asked.
Kolton looked at Kait hoping she’d want him to stay.
“Yeah. You want to come over?”
“I got some stuff to do.”
Loraine smiled suddenly.
“Oh, look at you three. It’s like Christmas card.”
Loraine’s face lit up.
“Stay right there,” she said and went outside.
“You should come over, babe. Hang out for a few?”
“I said no, Prince.”
Kolton nodded once.
“Alright.”
He cleared his throat.
Loraine walked in a hurry, disposable camera in hand.
“I knew I saw one in the office,” she said, already lifting it.
“Alright, come here, son.”
Kolton stepped in and scooped up Kyle.
“Stand closer, Kaitydoll,” Loraine said, waving her.
Kait didn’t move at first.
“Come on, Kyle never stays still too long.” Loraine said, softer now.
Kait exhaled through her nose, then stepped in just enough to be in frame.
Kyle leaned into Kolton, grinning.
“Smile,” Loraine said.
The flash went off.
Quick. Bright.
Gone.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Kait stepped away first.
“Alright,” she said, already reaching for her things.
Kyle looked between them.
“I’m tired.”
Kolton hesitated.
Just a beat.
Then nodded.
“Alright. Let’s go. Say bye to Kait and grandma.”
Kyle jumped off the chair, already heading for the door.
“Byeeee,” he said.
Kolton shook his head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, I’ll walk out with you guys.”
She said with one last glance at Loraine who was still smiling at the beautiful family before her.
Once outside, Kait high-fived Kyle one last time.
“Can I come over later?” Kolton said as he put the helmet on Kyle.
“I’ll just see you tomorrow at the dinner. I’m tired.”
Kolton nodded.
“You okay?”
“You’re asking that a lot lately. I’m fine.”
“Just worried, baby. Your wound giving you any problems?”
“No. My wound is fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Alright then,” he said and stepped in.
Kait met him halfway and hurried a goodbye kiss.
“Later,” she said and winked at Kyle.
“Okay. Later, babe.”
“Bye,” Kait said with a last wave at Kyle, and turn back to the courtyard.
Kolton watched her leave. He was not satisfied with her answer. He knew something was wrong.
“Let’s go, dad!”
Kolton snapped out of it and looked at Kyle.
“Alright, man. Let’s go.”
huntsville
Don and the prospects left right after lunch.
The shop had gone quiet a while ago.
Long enough that the sound of the bikes outside felt louder than they should.
Lane stood at the workbench, the rope finally cut clean in two.
He set the knife down.
Picked the rag back up.
Unwrapped his hand just enough to check it.
Still bleeding.
He pressed it once, testing.
Deep enough.
Don was right. Need stitches.
He reached for the kit without thinking.
Set it down. Opened it. Threaded the needle like it was just another task.
No pause.
No hesitation.
He pulled the edges together with his fingers and pushed the needle through.
Clean.
Again.
Tight.
Blood slowed.
Stopped.
He thought of Kait and Kolton again.
Kolton was going to propose to her soon.
He tied it off, clipped the thread with the knife, and flexed his hand once.
It held.
Of course it did.
He put the knife away and set everything back where it belonged.
The bench was clear again.
Same as before.
He wiped his fingers on the front of his kutte and felt the picture in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
It always hit the same.
That sharp, unwanted stab in his chest.
Still there.
Still the same.
He looked at her anyway.
Couldn’t stop himself.
And for a moment he wished it was that easy to stop that bleeding too.
