The Promise
1476 Words
Logan
Two nights a week, the prospects are allowed to stay and interact at the clubhouse. Tonight is one of them. They’re sprawled across the living room, talking about God knows what, when I return from the club’s first casino after handling business. As I walk past them toward the stairs, they sit up straighter, conversation dying off.
“Titan,” one of them calls. Every patched member has a club name they use. Mine is Titan.
“Speak,” I say, not stopping my ascent.
His footsteps echo against the wooden stairs as he follows me. “There's something I'd like to report.”
“Not now,” I dismiss, and he stops, leaving me to continue to my bedroom.
I try my key but the door is unlocked.
Inside, Sophie lies naked on her back, legs parted, eyes fixed on the door like she's been waiting for it to open. That sends the blood in my body running to the wrong head.
“How long has this thirst trap been here?” I ask, already removing my trousers.
She slowly slides a hand over her stomach until she finds her cunt, rubbing slow circles. “How ‘bout you go straight to quenching your thirst?”
I walk to the bed, bend her over and f**k her, struggling the entire time to push the image of Elizabeth to the back of my mind. The moment I finish, I go to the ensuite and take a cold bath.
“What's been up with you, Titan?” Sophie asks when I return to the bedroom.
“What do you mean?” I ask, digging through my wardrobe for something to wear.
“I waited for you for months,” she says, still naked on the bed. “And somehow… you're still not here.”
I pull out a pair of black jeans and toss them onto the edge of the bed. “What makes you say that?”
She sighs. “Don't you see it? You don't look at me like you used to. You don't f**k me like you mean it anymore. It's as if something has completely taken over your mind.”
“You're overthinking, Sophie. I was in…”
“Don't give me that ‘I was in jail’ bullshit,” she interrupts. I've used that excuse since the day I was released and she clearly won't take it anymore.
“There's nothing jail showed you that you hadn't already seen in our world, so don't use it as an excuse.”
She comes to stand behind me. “You can't start acting like this now. You're supposed to make me your old lady in a few months, like you promised. So put your s**t together and come back to me.”
She kisses the part of my back her lips can reach and disappears into the ensuite.
She's right. I promised to make her my old lady, but that was before Elizabeth came into my life. Before everything changed. How do I tell her I might break my promise without hurting her? Without turning her into a monster? All she's ever done is love me, stay loyal to me and to the club.
Those thoughts stay with me as I dress, trying to figure out how to resolve the mess I deliberately plunged myself into. I leave the room and head to the main balcony for air. I've got about two hours before I leave the clubhouse again.
“Whisky?” the prospect from earlier asks as he joins me. I nod, and he hands me a full glass.
“You wanted to report something,” I say, taking a gulp.
“A woman came looking for you at the café,” he says, getting straight to it. “Blonde. Green eyes. Uh… beautiful.”
Elizabeth.
“She said she wanted to return your jacket.”
I turn to face him, giving him my full attention. “Did you get it?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“What did you tell her?” I ask, curious.
“I… I told her to come another time.”
He's lying. Years of dealing with people have taught me how to tell lies from half-truths, and half-truths from truth.
“Great,” I say, not interested in forcing the truth out of him. “Is that all?”
“Yes, Sir,” he says, leaving immediately.
Letting Elizabeth walk away with my jacket was deliberate. I needed a reason to talk to her again. I didn't expect her to come looking for me. To me, that means one of two things. She wants to eliminate any possible way for me to have access to her, or she wants to see me again. And if my judgement is right, it's the former. Staying away from me is all she's wanted since the day we met me. I don't blame her. Nothing good comes from flirting with danger. If I were her, I'd run from me too.
The bell signaling supper pulls me from my thoughts, and I join the brothers at the table downstairs. Everyone else engages in dinner chatter while I eat quietly, drowning in my thoughts again.
“Can you all excuse us,” Anthony announces when we're done. “I'd like a word with the President.”
We're alone within a minute.
“What's this about?” I ask, irritation creeping in.
“We need to talk,” Anthony says, moving to the seat across from me. “It's about Elizabeth.”
I grit my teeth. “What about her?”
“Cole told me she asked for where she could find you, through her bestfriend.”
“She only wanted to return my jacket.”
He laughs. “You give your jacket to anyone who asks?”
“She didn't ask.”
He sighs, leaning forward, hands laying flat on the table. “Do you have plans for her or do you want her merely because she looks like Alic…”
“Alicia is dead,” I snap, slamming my hand on the table. “Don't ever say her name or compare the two.”
Silence stretches between us.
“Elizabeth doesn't have Alicia's birthmark,” I say coldly. “And even if she has her hair, skin and eyes, she's a totally different woman. Alicia was carefree, played with the world like it belonged to her. Not Elizabeth… she's careful. She doesn't allow just anyone into her life or her world. They're nothing alike.”
"I hear you,” he says, scratching his head. “But what are your plans? Are you planning to build something with her? Because you already have a woman waiting. Will you abandon her?”
“Did Sophie send you?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. I'm your vice. And your brother. I see through your walls.”
“I don't have time for this,” I say, standing up. “I've got somewhere to be.”
“Well,” he says, standing too. “There's an old saying, the devil you know…”
“Is better than the angel you don't,” I finish.
He nods. “Where are you going?”
“Business.”
“You always say that when it's bigger than us.”
His eyes stay on me a second longer than necessary.
Bigger than us.
That's what I call it when the truth would fracture the room.
The club thinks my world ends at Reaper territory, guns, runs, and loyalty. They don't see the other rooms I walk into. Places where no one wears insignia and no one raises their voice. Where a signature moves more weight than war ever could.
I keep that life locked away for a reason. Sometimes power survives longer when it isn't advertised. If my brothers knew this other side of me, it would plunge the entire club into a chaos we might never recover from.
I won't let that happen.
Anthony exhales, like he wants to say more, then stops himself. He recognizes a barricade.
Good.
There's work waiting beyond the club. Decisions that can't afford distraction. Deals that decide who wins, and who disappears without a single shot fired.
I should finish that first.
As I head out to my bike, Elizabeth crosses my mind again, holding my jacket, searching for me in places she doesn't belong, unaware of how close she came to danger.
I shake my head, reminding myself to focus on what's ahead.
I don't mix worlds.
Never have.
But Elizabeth has already brushed the edges of mine.
That's both a gift and a curse.
I'll go to her and collect my jacket, I decide. Just not yet.
I always make sure my hands are clean before I touch something I don't intend to destroy.
- Writer
