That night, the clubhouse felt cramped.
Smoke curled under the ceiling, thick from too many cigarettes lit one after another. Spider's body was gone now—carried into the back room where the brothers would prepare him for the last ride. But the image still clung to Ashley's vision... his arms nailed up, his cut torn, his chest painted with one word that promised more blood.
The pool table was wiped clean, but the stain lingered, faint and copper-dark. Nobody was laughing, drinking or having fun. Even Ace, who usually cracked jokes at the edge of disaster, was nursing his whiskey like it had gone bitter.
Ashley sat tucked in a corner, knees drawn tight beneath her, fingers tangled together. She didn't belong here. Every look cast her way reminded her of that. The brothers loved Sp
