Ava's POV Chet told me that his neighbor across the street invited us over for dinner tonight. I was excited to meet them. After moving in with Chet two weeks ago. After he proposed I couldn’t wait to have normal. A house in the suburbs. No wh0res around. Along with no club affiliation. I needed that. …… Dad and Mom were always about the club. So was my younger sister Cloe. Growing up, we went to everything. Football games. Basketball games. Birthdays. Graduations. Whatever one of the club kids had going on, the Razor Riders showed up. Funny thing was, when it came to my shift, everyone seemed to forget. My high school graduation pretty much summed it up. My family was there. Every Dam one of them. Just not for me. Several of the club kids were graduating that year, so the whole family showed up. Mom. Dad. Cloe. Club brothers. Ol' ladies. I sat with my graduating class and listened as they cheered for every club kid who crossed that stage. Then it was time for the valedictorian speech. My name was announced. I walked toward the podium. For just a second, I looked out into the crowd. Mom's mouth was hanging open. Dad looked like someone had punched him in the gut. Cloe looked confused. They hadn't known. My own parents had come to my graduation and hadn't known I was graduating. hll, they hadn't even known I was valedictorian. I gave my speech. Walked across that stage. Accepted my diploma. And tried not to look at them again. After the ceremony, Mom and Dad eventually found me. Neither looked proud. They looked embarrassed. “How come you didn't tell us you were graduating?” Mom questioned quietly. I stared at her. That might've been funny if it didn't hurt so Dam much. “I did.” Mom frowned. “I left the invitation on the refrigerator. It was there for weeks.” Mom looked at Dad. Dad rubbed the back of his n**k. I've seen that gesture one too many times. “Sorry, Princess. Must've slipped our minds.” I nodded. Of course, it did. “We're throwing a party at the clubhouse for all the kids who graduated,” Mom told me. “You can come along if you'd like.” If I'd like. Not, we're throwing you a graduation party. Not come celebrate with us. I was invited to everybody else's party. Like I was some big inconvenience. The invites where. 'You're not really invited'. The other party hopes you say no. Even on my own graduation day. “No, thanks. I have plans.” I didn't. But I'd gotten pretty good at giving people an easy way out of spending time with me. “Okay.” They just walked away. No hug. No picture. No congratulations. Nobody told me they were proud of me. I stood there in my cap and gown watching my parents walk back toward the people they'd actually come to celebrate. That was the moment I stopped expecting anything from them. It was to emotionally draining. Somehow I always felt like a mac truck hit me. After those interactions with my parents. I left the next day. I didn't make some big announcement. Didn't have some tearful goodbye. I packed my shift and moved into the apartment I'd already rented. It was five days before Mom texted me. MOM: Where are you? I stared at that message for a long time. Giving a bitter laugh. Five days. Their eighteen-year-old daughter disappeared from their home, and it took them five fking days to notice. Good to know roughly how long a serial killer may have. Before my parents remembered me. I eventually typed back. ME: Starting my life.

Ava's POV Two weeks later, Dad found my apartment. Of course, he did. He was the President of the Razor Riders MC. Finding people wasn't exactly difficult for him. He showed up with a couple of club brothers behind him. The second I opened the door, I knew he was pissed. “Why didn't you clear this with me, Ava?” I leaned against the door frame. “Clear what?” “This.” He gestured toward my apartment. “Moving your @ss out.” “I'm eighteen, Dad.” Stating the obvious. “You left without telling anyone!” I stared at him. “Who was I supposed to tell?” His jaw clenched. So did his fist. The man seemed to only interact with me. For more than two seconds. When He was showing me his anger. “You have a family.” I almost laughed. “Okay.” “What the hll is that supposed to mean?” “How long did it take you to realize I was gone?” Dad went quiet. That was answer enough. “Did you notice when I didn't come home the first night?” Nothing. “The second?” His jaw tightened. “Did you notice I wasn't at dinner?” I shook my head before he could answer. “No. You wouldn't have.” “Ava—” “Except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, we haven't eaten dinner together in three years.” One of the brothers behind Dad suddenly became really interested in the ground. I wasn't yelling. Didn't see the point. That seemed to unnerve my father. With how calm I was. “When was the last time you and I did something together?” Dad stared at me. Nothing. “Do you know what I wanted to do after high school?” Silence. “Do you know who my friends are? Or if I even have friend?” His face hardened. Still nothing. I nodded. “That's what I thought.” “The club above all!!” Dad finally said. A small laugh escaped me. “Yeah.” I looked him directly in the eyes. “I figured that out a long time ago.” “Ava, that's not what I meant.” “Isn't it?” He didn't answer. Because he knew it was true. I crossed my arms. “Do you know when my birthday is?” That pissed him off. “You think I don't know my own kid's birthday?” “When is it?” “May eighteenth.” I just stared at him. Dad's confidence slowly disappeared. “That's Cloe's birthday.” His face changed. I didn't tell him mine. I didn't see the point. “Don't worry about it.” “Princess—” “No.” I stepped backward into my apartment. “You don't have to pretend anymore.” His brows pulled together. “Pretend what?” “That I'm an obligation you have to remember.” “Ava—” “I'm fine, Dad.” Those words came easily. I'd been saying them most of my life. “I have a full scholarship. I have somewhere to live. I'm going to school. You don't have to worry about me.” “I do worry about your @ss.” I looked at him. Maybe he believed that. Maybe somewhere underneath the club, Cloe, and everything else he'd made more important, he really did love me. But love wasn't something I could see. So it didn't really matter. “Sure.” Dad stepped back with that simple word. The man turned and left. I closed the door. And that was pretty much it. I went to college on a full-ride scholarship and eventually became a registered nurse. Dad stopped trying. Or maybe I stopped noticing whether he tried. Mom sent the occasional text. How are you? Hope you're doing well. I'd answer. I'm good. Work's good. Thanks. Nothing personal. Nothing that gave her access to parts of me I'd learned to protect. Cloe was different. None of this was her fault. She was five years younger than me. She hadn't chosen how our parents raised us any more than I had. So when my baby sister called, I answered. When she learned to drive, we'd occasionally meet for lunch. I loved Cloe. I never blamed her for being loved better. I blamed the people who should've known how to love us both.

Ava's POV Years passed. Nine of them, actually. Now here I was, pulling into my driveway after another long day at the pediatric clinic. I was exhausted. All I wanted was a shower, comfortable clothes and maybe something to eat. Before I crashed on the couch. Working with Dr. Snyder made the long days worth it, though. He was a wonderful pediatrician, and I loved my job. Kids could be exhausting, loud and unpredictable. They were also honest. Most of the time, brutally so. I walked into the house and dropped my bag near the door. “Hey, honey. How was your day?” Chet walked over and gave me a quick k**s. “Really good. Busy. How was yours?” “Good.” He smiled. “Why don't you get ready? We can have dinner with the neighbors.” “The neighbors?” “Yeah. I've talked to them a few times. They're interesting, but they're good people.” Chet ran his hands lightly up and down my arms. “Okay. Give me twenty minutes.” “Perfect.” I headed upstairs. Chet was different from every man I'd grown up around. That had been part of the appeal. Polos. Khakis. Clean-shaven. I didn't think I'd ever seen so much as a five o'clock shadow on his face. He had lightly curled blond hair, blue eyes, a chiseled chin and a perfect white smile. Everything about him was neat. Controlled. Normal. Nothing like the Razor Riders. Exactly what I'd wanted. After a quick shower, I pulled a sundress from my closet. I hadn't worn dresses much growing up. Jeans, boots and T-shirts had always been more my thing. But that belonged to another life. I was determined to leave that life behind me. I slipped into a pair of flats before heading downstairs. Chet was standing near the kitchen looking at his phone. The second he noticed me, he slipped it into his pocket. “You ready, honey?” “Yep.” His eyes moved over me. The smile I'd expected never came. Instead, his l**s pressed into a thin line. “Are you sure about that dress?” I looked down at myself. “What about it?” “Nothing. It's just...” His eyes settled around my h**s. “Don't you think your h**s are a little too big for this one?” I stared at him. My stomach dropped. I'd been dieting lately. Chet had suggested we both start eating healthier before the wedding so we'd look good in the pictures. He'd said someday, when we showed the pictures to our children. We'd be able to say we'd had enough self-control to look our best. I hadn't loved the way he'd said it. But I'd agreed. “I think I look good,” I said. “My h**s have even slimmed down.” Chet checked his watch. “It'll have to do. We're already going to be late.” It'll have to do. The words hurt more than I wanted them to. But I swallowed it. Chet cared about me. Sometimes he just didn't think before he spoke. At least, that's what I told myself. He took my hand as we walked next door. “Just a heads-up. They're a little different.” “Different how?” “You'll see.” Chet rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened. The woman standing there had fiery red hair streaked with yellow and orange. Her shorts barely covered her @ss, and her shirt hugged every curve. Her face lit up. “Oh, hi, Chet.” Not hi, guys. Not nice to see you. Chet. Her eyes were completely focused on my fiancé. Then she noticed me. Her smile faltered. Only for a second. But I caught it. Like my presence had ruined something. “Hey, Spark,” Chet said. “I want you to meet my fiancée, Ava.” Spark. My stomach tightened. That sure as hll sounded like a road name. The woman looked me over. Slowly. Then smiled. Before she could say anything, a deep voice came from behind her. “Baby, who's at the door?” Heavy footsteps moved closer. Spark glanced over her shoulder. “Chet and his fiancée.” A man appeared behind her. And I stopped breathing for a second. Not because of the man. Because of what he was wearing. Leather. A three-piece patch. Razor Riders M.C. You've got to be fking kidding me. Nine years. I'd spent nine years building a life that had absolutely nothing to do with the club. I'd moved away. Built a career. Bought a home. Gotten engaged to a man whose wardrobe consisted of enough polos and khakis to supply a Dam country club. And somehow, I'd managed to move next door to a Razor Rider. Apparently the universe had a sense of humor. Spark stepped slightly to the side. “Ana, this is my man, Blaze.” My eyes snapped back to her. Ana? Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. I gave her a polite smile anyway. “It's Ava, actually.” Then I held my hand toward Blaze. “Nice to meet you.” His eyes dropped to my hand before meeting mine again. “You too.” He shook it. There was something about the way his eyes stayed on me for another second. Not inappropriate. More like he was trying to place me. I wondered if he could. I certainly didn't recognize him. Nine years was a long time. “Come on in,” Blaze said, stepping back and opening the door wider. “No reason to stand out there.” “Thanks.” Chet's hand settled against my lower back as we stepped inside. Spark laughed lightly. “Sorry. Ava.” She wasn't sorry. I knew women like her. I'd grown up around plenty of them. “Don't correct her,” Chet whispered. “It was a mistake.” I turned my head toward him. What? “I was just telling her my name.” His fingers pressed slightly harder against my back. “And now she knows.” My stomach tightened. Why the hll was he making this into something? Spark's mouth twitched. She was enjoying this. “Dinner should be ready soon,” she said before walking farther into the house. Chet nudged me forward. Every instinct I had spent nine years trying to bury suddenly woke up. I noticed the exits. The layout. The cut. The woman watching my fiancé a little too closely. Old habits. I hated that they came back so easily. As we followed Spark farther inside, she glanced over her shoulder. Not at me. At Chet. And Chet quickly looked away. I slowed. It happened fast. Fast enough that I could've convinced myself I'd imagined it. Except I hadn't. Spark looked pleased. Chet suddenly seemed very interested in something across the room. I frowned. First the dress. Then the name. Now this. Something felt off. I just didn't know what yet.

We eventually settled into the living room. “Chet, you still drink red wine?” Spark questioned. “Yeah.” She smiled. “I remembered.” Something about the way she said it bothered me. Spark looked toward Blaze. “Beer?” “f'k- yeah.” She walked toward the kitchen. I waited. And waited. She didn't ask me. A few minutes later, she came back carrying the drinks. Spark handed Chet his wine and Blaze his beer before sitting down. I stared at her. Seriously? Spark eventually looked over. “Oh! Ana, I'm sorry. I forgot you were there.” My brows rose. There was no way. I'd corrected her less than ten minutes ago. “It's Ava.” Her smile tightened. “Right. Ava. Did you want something?” Before I could answer, Chet spoke. “Water's fine for her.” I looked at him. “Excuse me?” “You said you wanted to make sure your wedding dress fits perfectly, honey.” Heat crawled up my n**k. I hadn't said that. “I can decide what I want to drink.” Chet's jaw tightened. “Don't start.” Don't start? I hadn't done anything. “What the fk is up with that?” Blaze's voice cut through the room. Chet looked at him. “What's up with what?” “Her needing water because of some fking dress.” Blaze gestured toward me. “Nothing's wrong with Ava from what I can see.” I blinked. He'd known me for less than an hour and somehow this stranger was the one defending me. Chet gave an uncomfortable laugh. “It's between me and my fiancée.” Blaze's expression hardened, but Spark quickly jumped in. “I'll get her something else.” Her. Apparently, saying my actual name was becoming difficult for the woman. Dinner hadn't been much better. Spark barely spoke directly to me unless she had to. But she sure as hll had plenty to say to Chet. Little things. Stories I didn't understand. Jokes that apparently had history behind them. Laughing like Chet was the funniest person on the planet. Which Chet didn't really have a sense of humor. I tried telling myself it made sense. They'd known each other longer than I'd known either of them. Still, something felt... off. Then Spark suddenly pushed her chair back. Her hand flew over her mouth. She barely made it out of the room before I heard her getting sick. Blaze frowned. “She's been doing that shift for a few days.” My nurse brain immediately kicked in. “Has she been sick?” “Says she ain't.” Spark eventually came back looking pale. “Are you okay?” I questioned, concerned. “Fine.” “Any fever?” She shook her head. “Stomach pain?” “No.” “Fatigue?” Spark hesitated. “A little.” “Any food suddenly bothering you? brest tenderness?” Her eyes snapped to mine. That reaction caught my attention. “Why?” I shrugged. “I'm a nurse. Those symptoms can mean several things.” Spark's hand moved unconsciously toward her stomach. “Including pregnancy.” The room went dead silent. Spark looked at Chet. Not Blaze. Chet. My eyes narrowed. Chet's face had lost some of its color. “Ava, stay the hll out of it.” I stared at him. “I was talking to Spark.” “And I'm telling you to drop it.” Why the hll was he getting angry? Spark wouldn't look at Blaze. Chet wouldn't look at me. Then everything from the moment we'd arrived started replaying in my head. Spark's smile disappeared when she saw Chet. Ana. More than twice Chet defending her over something as simple as my own Dam name. Spark remembering exactly what wine Chet drank. The looks between them. And now this. My stomach dropped. No. No fking way. I looked at Spark. Then Chet. “Oh my God.” Chet's eyes snapped to mine. “Ava—” “You two slept together.” “Shut the fk up, Ava.” That was all the confirmation I needed. My chair scraped backward as I stood. “You son of a bltch.” “Ava, calm the fk down.” “Calm down?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “We're supposed to be getting married!” “I said Shut the fk up!” Chet's hands hit me. Hard. I stumbled backward into the table. Pain shot through me as my h*p slammed against the edge. Everything happened at once. Blaze was out of his chair. “You put your fking hands on her?” His fist connected with Chet's face before I could even process what was happening. I didn’t want to stick around. I got up and left. Not saying a word. …. I went back to Chet's place. I didn't go there to talk. I went there to get my shift. Thankfully, I hadn't moved everything in yet. Most of my belongings were still in a storage unit while we figured out how to combine two households. Apparently, procrastinating had finally worked in my favor. I dragged both suitcases from the closet and started packing. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. Anything that belonged to me went into a bag. I had the first suitcase almost full when I heard footsteps behind me. “Honey.” I didn't turn around. “It was an honest mistake. We were drunk.” My hands stopped. An honest mistake? I gave a sarcastic laugh. I slowly turned toward him. “Don't lie to me, Chet.” “I'm not lying.” “Yes, you are.” His jaw tightened. “There was something off the second Spark opened that door. The way she looked at you. The way she treated me. The way you kept defending her.” I shook my head. “That wasn't a woman feeling guilty because she slept with my fiancé one drunken night.” Chet looked away. There it was. “You two have been fking around for a while, haven't you?” “No.” His answer came too quickly. “It happened once. I swear.” I stared at him for a moment. “Okay.” Chet seemed to relax. I held my hand out. “Give me your phone.” His expression changed immediately. “What?” “Your phone.” “Why?” “I want to see your messages.” Chet actually took a step backward. “That is a complete invasion of my privacy.” I almost laughed. “Privacy?” “Yes, Ava. Couples are still allowed to have privacy.” “Absolutely.” I held my hand out again. “But you were just caught cheating on me. So right now, I'm giving you an opportunity to prove you're telling the truth.” “I don't have to prove anything to you.” “Then don't.” I went back to packing. “Ava.” I ignored him. “We're supposed to be getting married. If you can't trust me, we have a serious problem.” That got my attention. I turned around. “You cheated on me, and somehow my lack of trust is the problem?” “You're twisting my words.” “No. I'm repeating them.” His face reddened. “Maybe you're so suspicious because you're the one doing something.” I stared at him. Then smiled. “Okay.” “What?” I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocked it and held it toward him. “Take it.” Chet looked at my phone. “Go through everything.” He didn't move. “Texts. Emails. Call history. Social media. Whatever you want.” I held my other hand out. “And I'll take yours.” Silence. Yeah. That's what I thought. “I'm not playing these childish games.” I lowered my phone. “Neither am I.” I tossed it onto the bed and continued packing. “This is bullsh*t, Ava. I shouldn't have to prove anything to you.” “You're right.” He went quiet. I zipped my suitcase. “You don't.” I looked at him. “And I don't have to marry you.” His face changed. “It's over, Chet.” “Ava—” “No.” “You're seriously going to throw away two years over one mistake?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “I always find that interesting.” “What?” “How cheaters somehow blame the person they cheated on for the relationship ending.” I opened my second suitcase. “I'm not throwing away two years. I'm using them as a learning experience.” "How to spot the wrong аs hole." I grabbed another stack of clothes. “You threw them away. When you fked another woman.” “It happened once!” “Sure.” “It did!” “Then unlock your phone.” Silence. I nodded. “Exactly.” I went back to packing. That's when his tune changed. “Okay.” I stopped. Chet ran both hands through his hair. “Okay, maybe it happened more than once.” There it was. “How many?” “It doesn't matter.” I laughed. “Of course it doesn't.” “I scr'wed up, honey.” “Don't call me that.” “Ava, please.” He moved closer. “I have a problem, okay? I'll get help.” I stared at him. Now he had a problem. Five minutes ago, it was one drunken mistake. Then it was my fault because I didn't trust him. Then maybe I was cheating. Now that none of that worked, suddenly he had a problem and needed help. Interesting. “ We can go to counseling,” he continued. “I'll do whatever you want. Just don't throw everything away.” “There you go again.” “What?” “Making me responsible for ending something you destroyed.” His face hardened. “I said I was sorry.” “And?” He stared at me. “An apology doesn't mean I have to forgive you.” I finished packing the last of my clothes and zipped the second suitcase. Then I looked down at my left hand. The ring suddenly felt heavy. I'd looked at that Dam thing so many times and thought it represented my future. A husband. A house. Maybe kids someday. Normal. Everything I'd convinced myself I wanted. Now it just represented another person who'd made me feel like I wasn't enough. I slid the engagement ring from my finger. Chet watched me. “Ava, don't.” I tossed it onto the bed. “Goodbye, Chet.” His face went pale. “Don't do this.” Chet begged. “I'm already done.” I grabbed the handles of my suitcases. “And don't approach me again.” I walked out of the bedroom. “Ava!” I kept going. I made it to the top of the stairs. “You don't get to just fking walk away from me!” I turned my head. That was my mistake. Chet was right behind me. I barely had time to register the rage on his face before both his hands slammed into me. Hard. My feet disappeared out from underneath me. A scream tore from my throat. The suitcase slipped from my hand. Then I was falling. My shoulder hit first. Pain exploded through me. Another stair. My back. Another. I tried grabbing the railing, but my fingers couldn't catch it. Then my head slammed against the final stair. White flashed across my vision. For a second, I couldn't hear anything. Couldn't move. I tasted blood. Then everything went black.

Blaze POV “You're a fking wh0re.” Spark flinched. I didn't care. “Whose kid is it?” “Blaze—” “Don't Blaze me. I haven't been inside your @ss in three months. And even then, I wore a cond0m.” Her face crumbled. “It was a mistake, baby. I was so drunk, and I...” She stopped. Her eyes darted away. “I think Chet took advantage of me.” I stared at her. Then laughed. Not because anything was funny. Because apparently my Ol' Lady thought I was stubid. “Don't.” “I'm serious.” “Don't lie to my face.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “You think I didn't notice you tonight?” She froze. “All that extra attention you were giving Chet? "Calling his woman the wrong name on purpose? Forgetting her drink?” Spark looked away. “hll, Ava knew something was wrong, and she'd known you for what? An hour?” Her jaw tightened. There it was. Jealousy. Over a man she'd apparently been having fun with behind my back. “Pack your shift.” Her head snapped toward me. “What?” “You heard me.” “Blaze, please—” “You and me are done.” Her face went white. “I want a divorce.” “Baby—” “Stop calling me that.” I pulled out my phone. “And start packing before I have somebody pack your shift for you.” I called a couple of my brothers. Because I wasn't done tonight. Not even close. Chet wanted another man's wife? He was about to learn there were consequences for that. Spark disappeared upstairs crying. I dropped onto the couch and rubbed both hands over my face. What a fking night. Prez sent me out here months ago for one reason. Find his daughter. Keep an eye on her once I did. Problem was, the only picture Edge had given me was old as hll. She was eighteen in it. Nine years could change a person. I hadn't found her. And now my marriage had just blown up. Perfect. About an hour later, engines sounded outside. I walked out with a beer in my hand as the brothers pulled up. Wasn't expecting Prez himself to climb off one of the bikes. Edge walked straight toward me. “Where's the fker?” I pointed across the street with my beer. “Lives right there.” Edge looked toward the house. “The bastard's been kissing my @ss trying to get the club to do business with him.” I took another drink. “Looks like he's finally getting some business.” That earned a few dark laughs. “Let's go.” We crossed the street. I hammered my fist against Chet's door. “Open the Dam door!” Nothing. I hit it again. “Chet!” Still nothing. “scr'w this.” Pic stepped forward. “Move.” He pulled out his tools. Less than ten seconds later, I heard the lock click. “Show-off,” one of the brothers muttered. Pic smirked. I shoved the door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall. I took two steps inside. Then stopped. What the hll? A woman was lying at the bottom of the stairs. Suitcases were scattered around her. One had busted open, clothes spread across the floor. Blood ran from underneath her hair. “Ava?” It was the woman from dinner. I started toward her. Then Edge came through the door behind me. He stopped dead. For one second, Prez didn't move. Didn't breathe. Then his entire face changed. “Princess!” What? Edge shoved past me and dropped to his knees beside her. “f'k-! Princess!” My brain stalled. Princess? I looked at Ava. Then Edge. Then back at Ava. No way. Ava. The woman I'd met across the street tonight. The woman Chet had humiliated in front of everyone. The woman who'd corrected Spark about her Dam name. That was Ava. Edge's daughter. The woman I'd been sent here to find. “Come on, Princess.” Edge's voice cracked. I'd never heard that man's voice crack. “Open your eyes for your old man.” Ava didn't move. Blood continued running down the side of her face. “Don't move her,” I barked. Edge looked ready to lose it. “Somebody call an ambulance!” “Already doing it,” Pic answered behind us. Edge's hand h*****d over his daughter's face Like he wanted to t***h her but didn't know where he safely could. “Princess, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Come on, baby girl.” Nothing. I stared down at her. How the hll had I missed it? I knew Ava's name. I'd been sitting across from her. I'd defended her when that аs hole started talking about her weight. But the picture Prez gave me showed an eighteen-year-old girl. The woman lying in front of me was twenty-seven. Nine years. And apparently Edge didn't have a single newer picture of his own daughter. That thought sat wrong with me. Really wrong. Sirens finally sounded outside. “Took them long enough,” Edge growled. Paramedics rushed through the door. “Everybody back up.” “That's my daughter.” “Sir, we need room to assess her.” Edge reluctantly moved, but only enough to let them work. They checked Ava before carefully stabilizing her n**k. One of the paramedics started asking questions. “What happened?” “We don't know,” I answered. “We found her like this.” “Was she conscious when you arrived?” “No.” “Do you know how long she's been unconscious?” “No.” Edge looked toward the stairs. Then the suitcases. Something changed in his face. “Where's Chet?” Every brother in that room went still. Edge slowly stood. His eyes landed on the suitcase. Then Ava's clothes scattered across the floor. “She was leaving.” Nobody answered. Edge looked toward the stairs again. “Find that fker.” His voice wasn't loud anymore. That was worse. “Prez—” “Find. Him.” Pic and two brothers immediately moved deeper into the house. The paramedics lifted Ava onto the stretcher. Edge followed them toward the door. “Sir—” “I'm going with her.” “Only one person can ride with—” “Then that one person is gonna be me.” The paramedic apparently decided arguing wasn't worth it. “Are you her father?” Edge looked down at Ava. Something crossed his face I couldn't quite read. “Yeah.” His voice came out rough. “I'm her dad.” They loaded her into the ambulance. I stood there watching the doors close. Then I looked back at the blood at the bottom of those stairs. I'd been sent here to find Ava months ago. Turns out she'd been right across the street. And the first night I finally found her— Some fker had nearly killed her.

Ava POV Pain. That was the first thing I felt. Every Dam inch of my body hurt. I tried opening my eyes, but they felt too heavy. My head throbbed, and even trying to move sent pain shooting through me. “Princess.” A voice. Familiar. I tried to grab onto it. “Come on, Princess. Open those eyes for your old man.” Dad? Why was Dad here? I tried to force my eyes open. Couldn't. The darkness pulled me back under. The smell hit me first. Disinfectant. Sterile air. Hospital. I slowly opened my eyes. White walls, machines. With an IV ran into my arm. Something stiff was wrapped around my n**k. C-collar. I tried turning my head before common sense kicked in and told me that was a terrible idea. A g***n escaped me. Movement came from beside the bed. “Oh my God. Ava?” Mom. I blinked a few times. Mom was sitting beside my bed. Dad was there too. So was Cloe. All three of them. That was... weird. “Big sis.” Cloe jumped from her chair. Her eyes were red and swollen. She'd been crying. “Ava, sweetie.” Mom leaned forward. “How do you feel?” “Like I fell down a flight of stairs.” Nobody laughed. Probably because I actually had. My entire body fking ached. “I need pain medicine.” Dad immediately reached for the nurse's button. “I got you, Princess.” I looked at him. There was that name again. Princess. I hadn't heard him call me that in years. “How did this happen?” Mom asked. Her voice shook. I closed my eyes for a second. Everything came rushing back. The affair. Packing. Giving him the ring. Walking away. Then— “He pushed me.” Silence. My eyes opened. Dad had gone completely still. Mom stared at me. “What?” “Chet pushed me down the stairs.” Cloe gasped. “That motherfvcker!” Dad growled. “Daddy!” “What, Cloe? He put his fking hands on my kid!” The door opened before Dad could get any louder. A nurse walked in. “Well, our patient is awake.” She came to my bedside. “I'm Georgia. Can you tell me your name?” “Ava Sinclair.” “Date of birth?” “October eighth, 1996.” “Do you know where you are?” “Hospital.” “Do you know why?” “My аs hole ex-fiancé pushed me down a flight of stairs.” Georgia paused. Cloe made a strange choking noise that might've been a laugh. Even the corner of the nurse's mouth twitched. “Okay. Good. You're alert and oriented.” “I'm also in pain.” “How bad?” “Nine.” “Any nausea?” “A little. Mostly thirsty.” “I can help with both.” “Thank you.” She checked my monitor before taking my blood pressure and a few other vitals. I touched the collar around my n**k. “I'm assuming we're waiting for imaging?” Georgia nodded. “Exactly. We're waiting for the physician to review everything before this comes off.” Made sense. “I'll get your medication, something you're cleared to drink, and let the doctor know you're awake.” “Thank you.” She left. The room became quiet again. I looked at my family. “How did you know I was here?” Dad leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “Blaze called.” I frowned. Oh. Right. Spark. Blaze. That whole disaster. Dad's expression darkened. “Blaze called some brothers after finding out Chet had been fking his Ol' lady. His @ss wanted to have a conversation with Chet.” I snorted. “A conversation?” Dad shrugged. “Club conversation.” Yeah. I knew exactly what that meant. “We went into the house and found you at the bottom of the stairs.” His voice changed. Just slightly. But I noticed. “You weren't waking up.” I stared at him. “How long have I been out?” “About ten hours.” Ten hours? shift. My eyes closed. I didn't even want to think about what Dad and the club had done to Chet during that time. Actually... Maybe I did. One thing about my father had always been strange. He could forget my birthday. Forget my graduation. Go months without talking to me. But if somebody outside the family hurt me? That was different. Dad could neglect me himself. But God help anybody else who put their hands on his daughter. I never understood how those two versions of him existed in the same man. “We're taking you home when they release you,” Mom announced. My eyes opened. Home? Before I could ask exactly where she thought home was, Georgia returned with another man. “Good morning, Miss Sinclair.” He looked to be somewhere in his late fifties. “I'm Dr. Ryans. Glad to see you awake.” “Thanks.” “I'm going to do a quick neurological and physical assessment. All right?” I nodded as much as the collar allowed. He checked my pupils first. Had me follow his finger with my eyes. Asked me questions. Name. Date. Location. What happened? Then came the less pleasant part. He checked my shoulders, ribs and abdomen. I winced when he pressed along my side. “Sorry.” “It's okay.” “Any sharp pain here?” “No. Just sore.” “Here?” “Ow.” “I'll take that as a yes.” “Very observant.” He smiled. “I'm known for it.” Okay. I liked him. When he finished, he stepped back. “Based on your initial assessment, you have extensive bruising and several muscle strains. The good news is that we haven't identified any obvious fractures or signs of internal bleeding at this point.” I released a breath. “You also have a laceration along the side of your scalp. It didn't require stitches. We'll want you to keep it clean and follow the wound-care instructions when you're discharged.” “What about the collar?” “I'm waiting for the final imaging review. If everything is clear, we'll remove it.” “Okay.” “Because you were unconscious for an extended period, we're keeping you for observation. At minimum, I'd like another twenty-four hours now that you're awake. Possibly longer depending on your scans and how you're doing.” I g*****d. Dr. Ryans smiled. “I know. Nobody likes being admitted.” “How long should my daughter rest after she's released?” Mom questioned. My daughter. Something about hearing her say it made me glance toward her. Dr. Ryans looked at Mom. “That will depend on the final imaging and her progress. But based on what I'm seeing right now, she's going to be extremely sore for at least several days.” He looked back at me. “What do you do for work, Miss Sinclair?” “I'm an RN.” His eyebrows rose. “Really?” “Pediatric office.” A smile appeared. “Then I don't have to give you my entire lecture about allowing your body time to recover.” I sighed. “I was hoping you'd forget that part.” “No such luck.” “Why do you have bedside manner? You're making it harder to hate you.” Cloe laughed. Dr. Ryans chuckled. “You lucked out.” “Apparently.” “I'll be back once I've reviewed everything.” “Thank you, Dr. Ryans.” He left with Georgia. The room became quiet. Then I noticed Mom staring at me. Not casually. Really staring. “You're a nurse?” I frowned. “Yeah.” “A pediatric nurse?” “Yeah.” Something strange crossed her face. A smile tried to form, but her eyes filled with tears instead. “My mom was a nurse.” I knew that. “Yeah.” “She worked with children too.” “I know.” Mom's expression changed. Of course, I knew. She'd apparently forgotten that I knew more about Grandma than she knew about me. “I didn't know you...” She stopped. Her voice disappeared. I knew exactly what she'd been about to say. I didn't know you became a nurse. For some reason, I didn't want to hear her finish it. The pain medication was starting to make everything fuzzy anyway. My eyelids grew heavy. “I'm tired.” “Then sleep, sweetie,” Mom whispered. I closed my eyes. The last thing I felt was Cloe's hand carefully slipping into mine. That felt familiar. That felt safe. So, I held onto my baby sister's hand as the medicine pulled me back under.