Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

“That’d be okay if he hadn’t knocked her up and then refused to take responsibility.”

Jesus.

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Well you are now. You sort that out and I’ll make sure my guy backs down.”

“Will do.”

We end the call and I stalk back to the house, banging hard on the front door while bellowing, “Striker! Get your ass out here!”

The door is ripped open and Striker glares at me. “What now?”

My fist connects with his cheek hard enough to send him to the floor. “She’s fucking pregnant. That’s fucking what.”

“You fucking asshole!” Melody screeches, lunging for Striker. “You never told me she was pregnant!”

Melody goes crazy with her fists, punching and slapping him while spewing her hurt all over the place. I pull her off him, copping a punch for my efforts. “Let me go!” she screams.

Wrapping my arms around her to stop her from moving, I bark, “Stop! I need a few minutes with him and then he’s all yours.”

She struggles against me for another minute before finally agreeing to do as I say. As she steps back from me, she glares at Striker and spits out, “I fucking hate you! I’m fucking done!”

Striker opens his mouth to respond, but I clock him again. He stumbles back, his features dark and dirty with me. “Is this kid yours?” The way he looks at me tells me everything I need to know. “You will go to her and accept responsibility, and if you don’t, I will strip your club membership,” I thunder.

That gets his attention and his eyes darken even more.

When he doesn’t answer me, I roar, “Am I fucking understood?”

His lips flatten before he says, “Yeah, you’re fucking understood, but this is bullshit. You don’t run my fucking personal life.”

“I fucking do when it threatens the club.” I take a couple of steps away from him so I don’t beat the absolute fuck out of him. Jabbing my finger at him, I order, “You do this now and you report back to me as soon as it’s done.”

I stalk out of his house back to my ute and leave as fast as I can. My body is filled with fury and if I spend another second in Striker’s presence, I’m likely to do something I’ll regret. I haven’t built this club up to what it is today for him to tear it the fuck down, but I also haven’t built it up to tear shit down myself by succumbing to my own darkness.

“What’s going on with you?” Max asks on the way home after I pick him up. “You’re tenser than you usually are.”

I glance at him. We catch up a few times a year, either when he visits Melbourne or when Birdie and I visit him in Brisbane. He’s right; I am tenser than usual, and as much as I’ve tried to shake it off so it doesn’t interfere with his visit, I’ve failed. “I’ve got some headaches I’m trying to figure out at the moment.”

“Club stuff or baby stuff?”

“Both.” There are no secrets between my brother and me. He’s the one person I’ve leaned on throughout the last seven years. I may not share the details of club business, but he knows the pressure I’m under. And he sure as fuck knows the battles I’ve faced with Birdie. At times, he’s been the glue that’s helped keep us together.

“How’s Birdie? I haven’t spoken with her for a week or so.”

I scrub a hand over my face and exhale. “I knew this cycle was going to be hard on her, but it’s a new level of hard. She’s obsessing over things far worse than she usually does.”

Max whistles. “That’s saying something; I didn’t think it possible for her to obsess any more than she already did.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to help her. I’ve reached the end of the line. At this point, I’m just going along with shit to keep the peace.”

“Fuck, brother, that’s gotta be hard.”

“It’s harder watching her break.” I look at him. “I won’t do this again. I can’t do this again. I’ve watched the woman I love lose herself and I refuse to let her hand another piece of her soul over to this. I need to save her.”

“You also need to save yourself,” he says softly, and fuck if it isn’t one of the truest things he’s ever said.

“I need to save us.”