ASHES & PAIN
Chapter 4
INFECTED
The room was too bright when he opened his eyes.
Lane didn’t move.
He was still on top of the covers, boots half on, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. A bottle or whiskey sat on the nightstand, barely an inch left in it.
Another one was on the floor.
Empty.
His head throbbed slow and heavy, not sharp. The kind of pain that came from not stopping.
From not wanting to.
He opened his eyes.
Didn’t sit up.
Didn’t check the time.
Didn’t care.
That alone was wrong.
A knock on the door.
He ignored it.
It opened anyway.
Melanie stepped in, already talking.
“Good morning, Kount… I was just—”
She stopped.
Looked at the room.
The bottles.
Him.
Lane blinked once, slow, then pushed himself up just enough to sit.
“What,” he said sighing.
Everything in his body felt off.
Loose.
Unfocused.
His eyes flicked toward the clock.
11:08.
He stared at it for a second too long.
That never happened.
Not once.
Melanie crossed her arms, watching him now instead of trying to be soft.
“Just checking to see if you were alright?”
Lane ran a hand through his hair, rough, dragging it back.
She took a step closer.
“You never sleep in this late—”
“I’m fine.”
That stopped her.
Not the words.
The tone.
Final.
He swung his legs off the bed, sat there a second, elbows on his knees, breathing through the weight in his skull.
Melanie didn’t move.
Didn’t leave either.
“You seemed upset last night.” she said.
There it was.
Lane didn’t look at her.
Didn’t react.
Just reached for the bottle on the nightstand.
Took the last swallow.
Set it back down.
Empty.
“Lunch is ready, but I can make you some eggs if you still want breakfast.”
Lane finally looked at her.
And whatever was in his face—
wasn’t anger.
Wasn’t softness.
It was worse.
It was nothing.
“I’m not hungry.” he said.
“Okay”
She started picking up the room. Grabbed the two empty bottles, straightening things that didn’t need straightening. Quiet hands. Useful hands.
Lane watched her for half a second, then looked away.
The room felt tight.
Wrong.
He pushed himself up, steadying once, then headed for the bathroom without another word.
Melanie kept moving, cleaning out of habit more than anything. Her eyes caught something sticking out of Lane’s kutte’s front pocket.
She pulled it free.
A picture.
Kait.
Her throat tightened before she could stop it. Her eyes burned, watering almost instantly.
The shower turned on.
Melanie moved quickly, slipping the picture back exactly where it had been.
Like she hadn’t seen it.
Like it didn’t matter.
LAS CRUCES , NEW MEXICO
The fire burned low and steady, more for presence than heat.
The weapons had already been handed off that morning. Clean. Uneventful. No speeches, no acknowledgment. Just done.
Now it was just a matter of killing time and mingling.
Bikes lined the edge of the lot, spaced evenly and untouched since they’d been parked.
Kait leaned back against one of the trailers, a bottle of vodka in her hand. She’d claimed it earlier.
Her eyes moved around the camp.
People. Positions. Space.
The Las Cruces Nest was more campground than clubhouse. RVs and single-wide trailers filled the property, with plenty of ole ladies and kids moving between them during the day. But once the sun went down, the kids were sent to bed.
Now it was mostly patches.
Some danced around the fire. Others played drinking games, passed bottles around, or threw knives at a battered target set up near the edge of the lot.
No one crowded the fire. No one drifted too far out. Everything held a kind of balance that didn’t need to be explained.
A few nods had been exchanged earlier. Brief introductions.
No need for formalities.
Ram was already folded into the group near the fire, everyone speaking Spanish.
Click stood off to the side with Cloud, both of them quieter than usual, watching more than talking.
Kait stayed where she was.
Observing.
This wasn’t the Nest.
At all.
Drinks made their way around without anyone asking.
Kait accepted one when it reached her but didn’t drink right away. Her attention stayed on the group near the fire.
Spanish flowed through the conversation easily, uninterrupted and unadjusted. No one slowed down or switched over out of courtesy. That’s how things operated here.
Ram fit into the exchange without friction, and that alone said something.
Kait picked up on it immediately.
There was a line here.
Clear.
Defined.
And she wasn’t on the right side of it.
Click leaned slightly toward Cloud, keeping his voice low. “You getting any of that?”
Cloud shook his head. “Not a word.”
Kait didn’t react, but her focus sharpened.
Navarro, one of the soldiers sat close enough to the fire to be part of the core group without drawing attention to himself. He leaned forward slightly, one arm resting on his knee, a bottle hanging loosely from his hand.
His eyes moved occasionally.
Not in a searching way.
Just aware.
They passed over Kait once, then again later, each glance brief and uncommitted.
Then he spoke.
His tone stayed even, casual, as if what he was saying didn’t carry any weight beyond the moment.
“¿Y a la güera se la cogen todos o qué?”
A couple of the men nearby reacted with quiet amusement, nothing loud, just a shift in expression, a shared understanding.
“No mames, güey. Estás pinche loco,” Ram answer.
Navarro continued without pause.
“¿No? Neta, estás bien pendejo si todavía no te la coges… yo ya le hubiera dado un buen revolcón desde hace mucho.”
As he spoke, his chin tilted slightly in Kait’s direction.
She noticed. Especially when other Krait looked at her right after.
Her jaw tightened, her grip on the bottle shifting slightly.
She didn’t know the words.
But she knew tone.
She knew body language.
And she knew when something was being said about her.
She pushed off the trailer and walked over to Ram, stopping just close enough for him to hear her without drawing attention.
“What’d he say?”
Ram didn’t look at her.
“Um…”
Her eyes stayed on him.
“What did he say.”
He took a breath, still not meeting her gaze.
“Don’t matter, Toast. Hey, you are way too small to be drinking like that.”
That was the wrong answer.
Kait stood there for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a small nod, like she was letting it go.
Like she was choosing not to push.
Then she turned.
And walked straight toward Navarro.
There was no hesitation in her movement. No pause to reconsider or read the room again. She crossed the space with a kind of certainty that didn’t belong here.
Navarro looked up when she stepped into his space.
He didn’t react beyond that.
Kait stopped in front of him, close enough that there was no ambiguity.
“What was that?”
Her voice was steady.
Controlled.
Navarro held her gaze for a moment.
Then he looked past her.
Lifted the bottle.
Took a drink.
And dismissed her without a word.
That was all it took.
Kait moved immediately.
Her fist connected cleanly, the impact sharp and direct. Navarro’s head snapped to the side. The bottle flew off, his chair shifting slightly under the force as blood hit the dirt.
The sound of the hit cut through the space.
Navarro came right back with it.
His hand cracked across Kait’s face in a hard backhand, snapping her head to the side and making her fall on the floor.
On her side.
She felt her wound reopen and before she could reset, his fist caught her kutte and yanked her off the floor, lifting her just enough to break her footing.
“Hey!”
Ram’s voice cut in sharp.
His gun was already out.
Kriket moved next. Then Cloud. Then Click.
No hesitation.
Three more weapons came up, all aimed.
Across the fire, chairs scraped.
Metal shifted.
Navarro didn’t let go.
He turned his head slightly, not even fully, just enough to register them.
And just like that—
New Mexico guns came out.
Quiet.
Efficient.
No shouting.
No scrambling.
Just lines being drawn.
Kait hung there for half a second, boots barely touching dirt, eyes lifting back to Navarro’s.
She didn’t reach for her face.
Didn’t struggle.
Didn’t speak.
Ram took a step forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Gun steady.
“Put her down.”
Navarro’s grip didn’t change.
Didn’t tighten.
Didn’t loosen.
For a second, nothing moved.
Fire cracked.
Veneno carried from somewhere behind the trailers.
No one blinked.
No one backed off.
Then Ketzal stepped in.
“Hey!”
“The fuck’s going on.”
His voice sharp enough to cut through everything.
The shift was immediate.
He moved straight between them, one hand coming up just enough to catch Navarro’s hold on Kait’s kutte.
A correction.
“Suéltala o te parto la madre, cabrón. Son la gente del pinche King.”
Navarro let go.
No hesitation.
Kait dropped back onto her feet, steady, already squared again.
No stumble.
No retreat.
Ketzal stayed where he was, holding the space between them.
His eyes went to Navarro first.
A look.
Short.
Enough.
Navarro wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t move.
Ketzal’s gaze shifted to the guns next.
“All of you—bájenlas.”
All Las Cruces Krait put their guns down.
Krait Dryden followed at Ram’s direction.
Then Ketzal looked back at Kait.
Studied her.
“You good, mija?” he said.
Controlled.
Final.
Kait held his gaze.
Said nothing.
Just spat a string of blood to the side.
He turned slightly, speaking low to Navarro in Spanish.
Brief.
Direct.
A correction, not a defense.
Then he stepped back.
No one spoke.
But the space had changed.
Ram exhaled through his nose, stepping back into place beside Kait.
“Toast, let me see.”
“Fuck this. I’m heading home,” she said.
“Toast… hold up,” Ketzal called, already moving after her.
She didn’t stop.
He closed the distance anyway, not grabbing her, just stepping into her path enough to make her slow.
“Hey,” he said, lower now, for her, not the room. “That’s on me.”
Kait’s eyes flicked to him.
Nothing soft in them.
Ketzal held it.
Calm.
Measured.
“You didn’t come to here to be disrespected. I apologize for my man’s lack of manners. I’ll handle him.”
Kait didn’t answer.
Didn’t give him anything.
But she didn’t challenge it either.
Ketzal nodded once, like that was enough to work with.
“Safe ride back,” he added.
Kait turned.
Kept walking.
Ram watched the exchange for half a second, then shifted his attention back to Kriket, Cloud and Ryan.”
“Let’s go home.”
Simple.
No discussion.
Engines came to life one at a time, controlled, clean.
This wasn’t a visit anymore.
It was a withdrawal.
No one stopped them.
No one said anything.
But the way they were watched as they rolled out—
that followed them into the dark.
DRYDEN - THE NEST
NEXT NIGHT
“Toast.”
She’d barely made it past the bar when Don called her.
He was already halfway inside the front office, holding the door open just enough.
Kait stepped in without a word.
Don closed it behind her.
Quiet.
Contained.
His eyes went to her mouth immediately.
The cut on her lip.
He stepped closer, not touching, just looking.
She felt her side bother her and she moved her hand over it.
“You alright?” Don asked.
Kait shrugged.
“I’m fine.”
Don held it a second, then nodded.
“Ketzal called.”
There it was.
Kait leaned back slightly against the desk, arms loose at her sides.
“He handled his guy,” Don said. “Called me himself. Made it right.”
Kait let out a small breath through her nose.
“It’s whatever.”
Don studied her.
Not judging.
Not pressing.
Just… reading.
Then he gave a small shake of his head, almost like he was easing something down.
“Look,” he said, tone shifting just enough. “That’s a room full of guys. Different charter, different place.”
Kait didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
Don went on, casual, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You walk in there looking like you do… they’re gonna say stupid shit.”
Kait stared at him.
Nodded.
“Yeah.”
“They’ll respect you now, though.”
Kait nodded once.
Not agreement.
Just… acknowledgment.
“Well, it’s not the first time. So…”
“And I’m sure it won’t be the last. Just know we got your back.”
“Thanks, King. It wasn’t really a big deal.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah… I’ll just sleep it off.”
“All right then. Go get some rest.”
Then she pushed off the desk and headed for the door.
Don didn’t stop her.
Didn’t say anything else.
The clubhouse lights were on, low, casting that same dull glow over the bar and the empty tables.
Tracy was behind the counter, wiping it down over and over.
She looked up when Kait came in.
Took her in quick.
The cut on her lip.
The way she moved.
Didn’t say anything about it.
Just gave a small nod.
“Hey, Toast. You okay?”
Kait nodded back, already reaching behind the bar for a bottle.
Didn’t answer.
“You just get back?” she asked, tone easy.
Kait twisted the cap off.
“Yeah.”
She took a quick drink.
Didn’t sit.
Didn’t stay still.
Tracy kept wiping the same spot on the bar for a second.
“Prince left on a run earlier.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said taking a drink.
“I thought he was going to Huntsville for a minute.”
“Huntsville? Why?”
“’Cause Kount was here yesterday, with two more guys.”
Just dropped in.
No weight on it.
Like it didn’t matter.
Kait’s hand paused for half a second.
Barely.
Then she took another drink.
“He was?”
Tracy shrugged lightly.
“Didn’t stay long. He was just grabbing some things.”
Kait set the bottle down.
Picked it back up.
Didn’t look at her.
“Oh.”
Tracy watched her a second longer.
Tracy set the rag down.
“You hungry at all? You want me to—”
“I’m good.”
Kait cut it off, not sharp, just done.
Tracy nodded.
“Alright.”
Kait didn’t go upstairs to her room.
She rode out.
The road to the lake house seemed longer than it used to.
Kait didn’t rush it. She just rode until the lake appeared through the trees, flat and black, untouched by the wind.
She cut the engine and sat there for a moment, staring.
The house stood dark and still on the other side of the yard.
Nothing about it looked different.
Kait climbed the steps, her boots hitting the wood in the same familiar rhythm, and stopped at the door. Her hand hovered over the knob before she grabbed it and turned.
It didn’t move.
She frowned and tried again.
Locked.
That didn’t make sense. She never locked the lake house. Not once.
Her eyes traveled over the frame and windows, then across the porch, looking for something that might explain it.
Kait slowly let go of the knob and took a couple of steps back, still staring at the door. She shook her head, refusing to let herself wonder if Lane had been there, then dropped onto the porch with her back against the wall.
That sucked.
Her side had been hurting since landing on it after Navarro bitch slapped her.
The vodka was finally doing the trick.
The wood was cold beneath her. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, taking a long drag before letting the smoke out slowly.
Her fingers brushed the cut on her lip.
Still there.
Her gaze returned to the door.
Was he here?
The thought barely formed before she pushed it away.
She just sat there smoking her cigarette.
Thinking about Las Cruces.
It was always the same around bikers.
A girl enters the room and it’s all about who’s fucked her, who’s fucking her now, and when will they get to fuck her.
But then she thought of Melanie in Huntsville again.
Has Lane fucked her yet?
She flicked the cigarette filter over the rail. and rubbed her temples.
She really couldn’t think about that.
Kait scoffed under her breath and took her lighter out again. She picked up a dry leaf from the porch, held it between her fingers, and touched the flame to one edge.
It caught quickly.
She watched the edges curl as the fire worked its way inward, but she didn’t let go. The heat crept closer to her fingertips while her eyes wandered back to the house.
For a second, another thought took its place.
Burn it.
End it.
All of it.
The flame traveled lower, close enough now that she could feel the heat against her skin. She kept holding it.
But the other thought wouldn’t leave.
Was he here?
The flame reached her fingers.
“Fuck.”
Kait dropped the leaf and crushed the ember beneath her boot.
She leaned her head against the wall and took another drag, slower this time. The house remained dark, the locked door only a few feet away.
She didn’t try it again.
She didn’t get up, either.
The cigarette burned low between her fingers as her eyes grew heavier. Eventually, the quiet settled around her again.
This time, she let it.
three days later
Kait sat in the driver’s seat of the club’s van, eyes fixed on the front entrance of an apartment building across the street. There was no movement for the past twenty minutes. No cars. No foot traffic. Nothing.
Too clean.
The heater was on low, not doing much.
Just enough to take the edge off the cold without ever fully warming the space.
The noise of the fan was making her tired.
Her fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. Stopped.
She blinked.
Slow.
Her eyes burned. Not from the heater, from exhaustion. The kind that sat behind the eyes and didn’t go away no matter how many times you rubbed them.
Three days.
Maybe more.
Didn’t matter.
She rolled her shoulders back, trying to shake it out. It didn’t help.
Across the street, the door stayed shut.
Still.
Her gaze held on it.
Held.
Then—
The van door yanked open.
“Toast—”
She jerked awake, hand already halfway to her side before her brain caught up.
Diablo leaned in, breathing a little harder than he should’ve been.
“He’s moving.”
Kait blinked once.
Twice.
The world snapped back in pieces.
“Where—”
She stopped herself.
Too slow.
Diablo’s eyes flicked to her, just for a second.
Then back out.
“Back exit. Black hoodie. He’s heading east.”
That was enough.
Kait turned the key, engine catching immediately. No hesitation now. No lag.
Diablo shut the door, already moving, pulling it across his chest as Kait threw the van into gear.
They rolled.
Then accelerated.
“Street ahead forks,” Diablo said, eyes scanning. “He’ll cut left if he’s smart.”
“He’s not,” Kait said.
Flat.
Certain.
She pushed the van harder, taking the turn before Diablo finished the thought.
Two blocks down… there he was. Black hoodie.
Moving fast, but not fast enough.
Kait cut him off clean, swinging the van wide and braking hard enough to force him to stop short. The guy hesitated, looked left, right—
Wrong move.
Diablo was already out.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Calm.
Gun low, not even raised all the way.
The skip froze.
Hands went up.
Just like that.
Ten minutes later, it was done.
Clean.
Efficient.
Exactly how it was supposed to go.
They sat in the van again, engine idling low.
The adrenaline was gone.
That part always came fast.
Silence filled the space where it used to be.
Kait stared straight ahead, hands resting on the wheel like she hadn’t moved since the stop.
Diablo leaned back in his seat, watching her from the corner of his eye.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
“You good?” he asked.
Kait didn’t look at him.
“Yeah.”
Too quick.
Too clean.
Diablo nodded slowly.
Didn’t push it right away.
“Have you talked to him?”
“Huh?”
“Kount.”
There it was.
Kait’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel.
Barely.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t give him anything.
“I’m sorry it went down like that,” Diablo added, quieter now. “Such bullshit that—.”
Kait inhaled.
Held it.
Her eyes shifted just slightly, unfocused for half a second.
Something flickered there.
“No. I don’t… I can’t talk about him.”
Not loud.
Not sharp.
But final.
Diablo stopped.
Watched her for another second.
Then nodded once.
“Sorry. When I talked to him, he seemed—”
“Diablo.”
He nodded once and leaned back again, letting it go.
Kait blinked.
Once.
Her eyes had glossed over just enough to catch the light—
and then it was gone.
She exhaled slowly, steadying it.
Hands still on the wheel.
Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn’t missed anything at all.
The van pulled up along the side of the Nest, tires crunching over gravel before coming to a stop.
Kait killed the engine but didn’t move right away.
Hands still on the wheel.
Eyes forward.
Diablo popped his door open and stepped out, stretching once like it had been nothing.
Kait followed a second later.
Inside, the Nest felt… busy.
Boxes stacked near the bar. Strands of lights draped over chairs, half untangled, half not. A small tree leaned off to the side like it hadn’t found its place yet.
Loraine stood behind the bar with Alejandra, working through a knot of wires.
“…pack up a couple of the silver and red balls too,” Loraine said, not looking up. “They just got their tree up yesterday. They’re gonna need decorations for outside too. Make sure they all work, please.”
Alejandra nodded, holding one end.
Loraine gave a small exhale.
“She said Lane helped her with it. Isn’t that sweet?”
Kait stepped in right as the words landed.
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t look at them.
But something in her tightened.
Loraine glanced up like she’d just noticed her.
“Oh—hey, Kait,” she said easily. “Looking for Kolton? He’s at his drug class right now.”
Kait didn’t answer.
Didn’t even acknowledge it.
She walked straight past them, through the dining area and out the back.
The door shut behind her.
Cold air hit her again as she stepped outside.
She kept moving.
Didn’t think about where.
Just away.
The double doors opened behind her a second later.
“Kait.”
Loraine’s voice was softer now.
“Kaitydoll, you okay? You look a bit pale, you’re sweating too, honey.”
Kait stopped.
Her side still bothering her.
Turned just enough to look at her.
Nothing soft in her face.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Flat.
Loraine held her gaze for a second.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t step back.
Just watched.
Kait turned again and pushed past her, and up the stairs.
Her room was dark.
She didn’t bother turning on the light.
Boots stayed on.
Jacket still on.
She collapsed onto the bed, breath still tight in her chest.
Sleep shut it down before it had time to turn into something worse.
Kolton stepped in a few hours later, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
He stood there a second, letting his eyes adjust.
She was out.
Didn’t look comfortable.
Didn’t look like she meant to fall asleep.
Just… down.
He moved closer, slow, like he wasn’t trying to wake her up all at once.
“Babe.”
No response.
He reached out, hand hovering for a second before settling lightly at her side.
“Hey—”
She flinched hard.
A sharp, immediate reaction.
Her body twisted away from the touch, breath catching as her hand snapped down to her ribs.
Kolton pulled back slightly.
“Hey, hey—easy.”
Kait’s eyes opened, unfocused for half a second before locking in.
She pushed herself up too fast.
Pain hit.
It showed.
Just for a second.
Then it was gone.
“What happened,” she said, already swinging her legs off the bed.
Kolton watched her, frowning.
“Nothing. Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
She sat up and winced.
Kolton got closer as if trying to catch her.
“Is it your wound, babe?”
“It’s so fucking hot in here.”
Kait stood up not letting Kolton see how much it hurt.
She opened her jacket, then paused just long enough to notice the bloodstain on her tank top.
“Kait. Jesus Christ—”
She adjusted her jacket again.
“It’s… fine.”
She cut him off and walked toward the bathroom. She felt the shirt peeling off the wound as she walked.
“You’re not fine,” Kolton said, following her.
She turned toward the sink instead, turning the water on like she hadn’t heard him.
Cold water.
Face.
Hands.
Quick.
Controlled.
Kolton stayed where he was.
Watching.
“Let me see, Kait. That don’t seem right.”
Trying to figure out how far to push it.
“Kolton. I said I’m fine. What are you doing here anyway?”
Kait grabbed a towel, drying her face.
“We’ve got a meeting,” he said. “Don wants us at Brews right now.”
“Well, shit, Kolt. Let’s go. Fuck.”
BREWS N' CREWS
Brews N’ Crews was already active when Kait and Kolton pulled in.
A few bikes sat out front, Krait mixed with Reyes del Camino colors. A couple of trucks belonging to regular customers were parked off to the side, and more Harleys parked behind them.
Don’s bike was there. So were Ram’s and Blaze’s.
Kait killed the Kriger and climbed off, immediately regretting the movement when pain pulled through her side.
Kolton noticed.
“You good?”
“I said I’m fine.”
She headed inside before he could ask anything else.
If Drinking Don’t Kill Me played low from the jukebox as they walked into Brews. Don, Ram, and Blaze were already there, drinks in front of them. Alacrán and a couple of Reyes were with them.
Kolton reached toward her side again.
“Stop.”
His hand dropped.
“You should get it checked, babe.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s gonna get infected.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Kait kept walking, but the room felt warmer than it should have. Her side throbbed beneath her clothes, and another wave of lightheadedness made her slow for half a step.
Then she looked toward the table.
And stopped.
Staring right at her.
For a second, Kait couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one had said anything about Huntsville coming, and she hadn’t even known what the meeting was about.
But there he was, sitting at the table with Don and the others like he’d been there all along.
Her chest tightened as another wave of lightheadedness rolled through her. She pressed her hand harder against her side and blinked, trying to clear her head.
Lane was right there.
And he was different.
She saw it immediately. The way he carried himself. The President flasher on his kutte. The way the Huntsville guys had settled around him.
He looked like he’s been at the head of a table for years.
Kait stared a second too long.
Kolton said something beside her, but she didn’t hear it. The room felt too warm, her head too light, and suddenly none of that mattered because Lane was sitting twenty feet away.
Her eyes stayed on him, waiting for something she couldn’t even name.
His expression didn’t change.
There was something hard in it. Cold. Like he’d already decided what she was to him and didn’t need anything else from her.
Then he looked away.
That hurt worse than she expected.
Kait swallowed as the room shifted slightly beneath her. For a second, she couldn’t tell whether it was the fever or him.
Sound came back around her. Voices. Glass against the bar. Kolton beside her.
He was watching her now.
“Babe, you’re super pale. You sure you’re okay?”
Kait nodded once.
“Yeah.”
Her hand had tightened against her side again without her noticing.
Lane took a slow, deep breath after Kait and Kolton sat at a table behind him to his left.
His attention stayed where it needed to be.
Table.
Voices.
The business at hand.
That was the only thing that needed to matter.
He didn’t look at her again.
Didn’t need to.
He already knew where she was.
Next to Kolton.
Right where she chose to be.
But he could still see them, unfortunately.
Kolton leaned in, saying something low.
Too familiar.
Too comfortable.
Lane didn’t react.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t give it anything.
He just watched the table like none of it meant a thing.
Because it shouldn’t.
Not anymore.
But he still couldn’t shake it.
Don said something about routes and brought him back to the task at hand.
Alacrán responded.
Lane stepped in where it mattered.
Voice even.
Controlled.
No wasted words.
“We now have the ability to take over the protection runs going north,” he said, tone even, like it had already been decided. “We just wanted to give you a heads up out of courtesy.”
The table went still for a second.
Alacrán leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowing just enough to show it landed.
“That’s not good news,” he said, calm but edged now. “My men were counting on that work. It’s been good for everyone.”
Don didn’t react right away.
Didn’t interrupt.
He let it sit.
“Ain’t firing you. It’s just going to be a shorter run. You still run it from Dryden to Huntsville.”
Don’s gaze stayed on Alacrán.
“Shorter run means less money.”
“Our Huntsville chapter is under new leadership. And a damn good one, so we can handle the way north.”
No exaggeration.
No pitch.
Just fact.
Alacrán nodded and accepted the new terms.
Kait looked at Lane.
He just sat there, like the decision had already been made and this was the part where everyone else caught up.
They didn’t stay long after that.
There wasn’t anything else to say.
Engines turned over one by one, the sound filling the lot as people moved without talking.
Kait didn’t wait for anyone.
She came out and saw the Hardline now. The truck blocking it earlier left.
She swung onto the Kriger and took off first.
Kolton followed.
The rest fell in behind them.
The ride back was tight.
Close formation.
No one drifting.
No one pushing it either.
Just enough speed to get it done.
Wind cut clean across Kait’s face, pulling at her hair, her jacket, the edge of her focus.
She kept her eyes on the road.
Didn’t check her mirrors.
Didn’t look for anyone behind her.
Didn’t think about who was riding back with them.
By the time they pulled in, the Nest was already moving.
Lights on.
Voices inside.
Dinner being set up whether anyone was ready for it or not.
Engines cut.
Boots hit gravel.
Everyone knew where they were supposed to be.
Or where they weren’t.
Kait got off the bike and headed upstairs to her room without waiting.
Kolton said something behind her—she didn’t catch it.
After dinner and small talk, Lane crossed the courtyard and went upstairs to the chapel.
He paused and looked at Kait’s door but knew that Kolton was in there with her.
Lane bit down his jaw and pushed the door open.
The chapel was quiet. It was cooler than the rest of the Nest.
The low hum of the building didn’t reach in here the same way. Everything felt contained, like the air didn’t move unless something made it.
Lane stood in front of the tank.
Hands resting lightly on the edge.
Watching.
The Judge moved slow inside, coiled along the branch, barely shifting except for the faint slide of muscle against glass.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
“Hey, man. What’s new?”
The door opened behind him.
Soft.
Kait stopped short as she saw him.
“Hey—”
She barely managed to say.
Lane took a second to get it together. Then turned slowly.
Kait remembered that look in his eyes.
From when she first got there.
“Um… Congratulations,” she said.
Lane didn’t look at her yet. He was looking down at an ashtray on the table.
“You’re officially Head of the Snake.”
Lane’s jaw shifted slightly.
He let it sit.
“I hear you’re doing great there.”
“Not as great as you and Kolton.”
Flat.
But there was something under it now.
Kait’s expression tightened.
“He’s doing a lot better.”
Lane nodded.
“Yeah, I hear he’s a brand new man. All thanks to you.”
Still not loud.
Just sarcastic.
Kait stepped forward slightly.
“Lane…”
Lane finally met her eyes.
Fully.
Locked in.
Stone cold.
He saw the scab on the corner of her lip. Didn’t ask.
“It’s not like that. I—”
Lane let out a short breath through his nose.
Not a laugh.
Worse.
“I don’t give a shit, Lokken.”
Dismissive.
Done.
He turned back to the tank like he wasn’t even part of the conversation anymore.
Like he’d already filed it away.
Kait stood there, something tightening in her chest.
“Lane. There hasn’t been a day I—”
The chapel door swung open.
“Hey—Kount, there you are. What’s up, Toast.”
Buster stepped in completely clueless.
Didn’t see it.
Didn’t register it.
“Don’s looking for you.”
Lane didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t look at Kait again.
“Thanks.”
He pushed off the tank and walked past her.
Close enough to feel.
Not close enough to touch.
Buster gave Kait a quick glance, half a nod, already turning back toward the door.
Lane stepped out first.
Buster followed.
The door shut behind them.
Kait put a hand on her chest as if that could stop her heart from breaking.
Kait didn’t go back downstairs.
Didn’t look for anyone.
Didn’t want to sit at the bar like nothing had just happened.
She went straight to her room and shut the door behind her.
The quiet hit different in here.
Heavier.
Like it had been waiting.
She made it halfway to the bed before the edge of it caught up with her.
A slow wave that didn’t feel right.
Kait braced a hand against the dresser, steadying herself.
Her head felt off.
Too light.
Then too heavy.
She blinked hard once, like that would fix it.
It didn’t.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.
She pulled her jacket off, slower this time.
The movement dragged at her side.
The graze burned deeper now, not clean like before.
Dull.
Hot.
Her shirt stuck again when she peeled it away.
Not as dry this time.
Kait didn’t look too closely.
Didn’t need to.
She already knew it wasn’t good.
She sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, breathing through it.
The room felt warmer.
Or she did.
Hard to tell.
Lane’s voice slipped in anyway.
Uninvited.
I don’t give a shit
Kait shut her eyes.
Tight.
Like she could push it out.
It didn’t go.
She dragged a hand over her face, pressing hard against her eyes.
“Stop,” she muttered.
To herself this time.
Not him.
Another wave hit.
Stronger.
Her stomach turned slightly, not enough to make her move, just enough to sit wrong in her chest.
Her skin felt too tight.
Too warm.
She leaned back slowly, letting herself fall onto the bed.
The ceiling came into view.
Blurry at the edges.
Lokken
Kait let out a slow breath through her nose.
Her hand moved back to her side without thinking, pressing there like it would ground her.
It didn’t.
The heat spread anyway.
Low.
Steady.
Wrong.
She turned her head slightly, staring at nothing.
The room felt quieter than it should’ve been.
Like everything had been pulled too far back.
Her eyes slipped shut.
Opened again.
Then shut again.
She didn’t know if it was the wound.
Or him.
Didn’t matter.
It all felt the same.
