Breaking Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 4)

“The feeling is mutual,” I yell back, turning around to walk away. In response, she just lets out an exasperated scream and slams the window down so hard that I’m surprised the glass pane doesn’t break.

“Jesus, kid, you need to stop this shit. Lyla’s a good girl. So, you knocked her up. This isn’t the nineteen-thirties, you don’t have to marry her.”

“That’s my kid she’s carrying,” I tell him, proud of myself for not stuttering.

“Whatever, dude, but there’s no way Ford is going to force her to marry you. He doesn’t even like you, and the only thing he wants in the world is his daughter’s happiness. She doesn’t sound too fucking happy right now,” Grunt says and, as if to accentuate his point, I feel a large thump on my back. I turn as a baseball bounces to the ground.

“What the f-fuck?” I growl, flinching as pain sears through my shoulder.

Grunt’s laughing. I ignore him and look up at Lyla’s window again.

“Next time, I’ll take your damn head off!” Lyla yells, and sure enough, she’s holding another baseball.

“It’s hard enough to…to…withstand the…the hit,” I snap.

“I wasn’t talking about your skull, dumbass,” she yells.

“Neither wa-was I.” I move my shoulder carefully while Grunt laughs his ass off and I’m left wondering what in the hell I’m going to do.

Chapter 3

Lyla

“Is Thomas right, Daddy?”

He looks at me as I come into the living room. I know he’s shocked when he sees me. It’s probably the first time in months that I look like myself. My hair is still slightly damp from a shower, the blonde strands brighter in places because they’ve dried. I’m wearing jeans and a bright pink tank. My stomach is a little more rounded, but for the most part, I look like the old Lyla—the one before my heart was broken.

At least on the outside.

“I’ve yet to see anything that dickless wonder is right about, Butterfly, but I guess you’ll have to be more specific,” Daddy laughs.

“If I don’t marry him, will the clubs go to war?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Shew, okay then I—”

“We’re going to war regardless and just for your information, you’re not marrying that son of a bitch,” he responds, his voice not excited at all. Instead, his voice sounds like steel—unmovable.

“You can’t go to war!” I cry, knowing that would spell disaster for a lot of people.

“If we do, it’s none of your business, Lyla. It’s club business.”

“That’s bullshit. You are my business, Dad,” I snap.

“This is my world, girl. You can’t put me in a damn box. I wouldn’t let you even if you could,” he answers—which really isn’t an answer at all.

“I can marry him. You can’t go to war if I do.”

“I could and I would.”

“You wouldn’t,” I insist stubbornly.

“There’s no point in arguing this shit, Butterfly, because you aren’t marrying him. We don’t need him, and that baby doesn’t need him. We’ll raise your baby just fine without that piece of shit.”

“I can’t let this happen,” I insist, sitting down on the sofa beside him, feeling lost. Dad instantly gathers me in his arms and pulls me to his lap. I close my eyes and lay my head against his chest and for a minute I’m transported back to when I was little. I remember being scared of the monsters that I swore lived inside my bedroom closet. Daddy would pull me onto his lap and hold me until I fell asleep. I’d feel warm, safe, and loved. The same as I do right now.

There’s no better feeling in the world. Daddy may not be the conventional father, but he is mine and even if I’ve always known the club is his life, he does make time for me.

“This is my world, Butterfly. You can’t start getting pissy about it now.”

“I’m not getting pissy,” I mutter. “If you start declaring war on the Savage Brothers over this, you’re going to get yourself killed,” I mumble into his chest.

“Thanks for having a little faith in your old man,” he grumbles sarcastically.

“It’s not about that, and you know it. Everyone knows how powerful the Savage crew is. You try to keep me out of the club junk and even I know that,” I breathe out, frustrated.

“Don’t worry about me and don’t marry that fuck-head. That’s not why I allowed him to meet with you.”

“Then why did you? I mean, you wouldn’t rest until you hunted him down. I didn’t even know he was a biker. If I had, I never would have talked to him and I know he had no idea who I was. I don’t understand how you even found him or why you’re going so far with all of this. If you had just left it alone, it would have been fine. What is all of this about, Dad?” He sighs and I pull back to look at him. “Tell me.”