He made his choice.
Made his bed.
Now I’m the one left sleeping in it alone.
I clutch the letter in my hand that arrived today. I want to rip it to shreds, but I don’t. I smooth the wrinkles I made in the envelope and put it in one of the drawers of my coffee table with the rest. I already know what they say. More promises waiting to be broken and even more lies.
The snow continues to pelt along my window sill, etching designs in the corners of the glass as it begins to stick.
It’s Christmas and I’m alone.
Dad is off who knows where with who. It’s nothing new. Not since Mom left and started a new family with who she calls a better man. Sometimes I think my father and Yara hate me a little because I look so much like her. I share her smile and have her hazel eyes that are mostly green with specks of gold and brown. My brothers don’t seem to give a shit one way or the other.
Yara keeps telling me I need to face reality. I’m not cut out for dating outsiders. Meaning non club members. Like she would know. She’s only ever been with Whiskey. Since she was six, she knew he was the one for her. When he joined our father’s club that cemented the deal. Not like he ever had a choice in taking a different path. His father has been a member as long as mine.
I’m not like Yara. I’ve not met the one man who sets my soul on fire. I envy her in a way. She’s never had to wonder if a guy was into her or worry about our father’s reputation putting someone off her. As far as I know Whiskey’s never stepped out on her. She’s one of the rare few who has never known what a broken heart feels like.
A man has never ripped her heart from her chest and squeezed the life out of her. Like Fisher did to me. Like our father did to our mother.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
This is an alert from the Emergency Weather Broadcast System. Heavy snowfall expected. Power outages are likely. Beware of icy roads and fallen power lines.
I check the weather radar after reading over the text alert.
Ugh. Looks like the storm of the century is heading right for us. The lights flicker or maybe I blinked.
I can stay here alone and wallow in my sadness or I can head to the clubhouse where at least if we lose power there will be a generator and liquor along with the company of the brothers who had nowhere else to go for the holiday.
Mom and the other ol’ ladies used to prepare a feast at the clubhouse, but they’ve not done that in years. She was the one who kept a lot of the traditions going. No one has stepped in to fill her shoes. Not that anyone could.
The lights dim then flicker once more. If I’m going to leave, I’d better do it now before the roads are closed to emergency travel only. Last time we had a winter storm of this nature it was coupled with ice that left us without power for two weeks.
I pack a bag that should get me through a few days at least, lock up my apartment, and head out.
Birds of Hell MC compound is located at an old hunting lodge that once served as a resort back in the 1960’s. I think before that it was a summer camp. There’s twelve cabins and a private lake nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains in a town named Hell. Yes. Hell.
Some say the devil himself founded our town and that if you travel far enough into the caves in the area, you’ll find the gates to the underworld. I’ve never been much for superstitions. Besides, my family has been mining gemstones and gold out of them for decades.
The snow falls faster and heavier as I drive the winding road to the clubhouse that makes the Tail of The Dragon seem like a cake walk. My father swears he can take these curves blindfolded. I’ll take his word for it and hope he never tries to prove the ridiculous claim.
There’s no gate. No one shows here uninvited. No one would dare to fuck with the Birds on their home turf. They know better. Like I said, my father has a reputation. One that isn’t made up of hearsay. He’s done the terrible things people accuse him of and makes no apology for it. You can’t rule a golden dynasty built by outlaws and not be heartless and cruel. Except with his girls. He has a weak spot for Yara and me. My brothers are another story entirely. They are clones of our father and like him they’ve likely found a whore to shack up with somewhere for Christmas. They put the Ho in Ho Ho Ho, but I love them dearly.
There are a few trucks parked near the front of the large log building. No Harleys this time of year. Some brothers of the club keep a permanent residence here in a few of the cabins. There’s always someone around. I don’t see any of my father’s vehicles but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here or my whore brothers.
I shut off my car and grab my bag from the backseat, hoping that this wasn’t a terrible idea.
Chapter 2
The front door of the clubhouse swings open. I look over from where I’m perched on a stool at the bar knocking back another swig of smooth Kentucky bourbon. Freya motherfucking Crow. Five feet six inches of sin personified. Snowflakes glittering in her dark hair as she stomps her boots on the welcome mat, shaking off the excess white powdery shit. Her red lips tip into a smile as her gaze meets mine.
She’s a sexy little minx in her black leather jacket and tight jeans.
“Hey, D.”
“Freya,” I mutter my hello and suck back the rest of my drink, keeping it casual.
“Got any of that for me?” She drops a bag on a nearby table.