Skull’s late. Dinner was hours ago and it’s dark outside now. I asked Latch if he had heard from them. He got this strange look on his face which worried me, but all he said was that they’d run into some trouble. He swore to me Skull was fine, but it feels like he’s keeping something from me. My phone rang three other times today. It was my father each time, and each time I hit the button to decline the call. I can’t talk to him. I have to keep holding on to hope.

It’s all I have.

I spent all day cleaning the compound like a crazy person. The muffler bunnies were giving me the evil eye, and the men were all looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I have. Until I know if Skull can end this war and contain my father, I’m going to be certifiable.

“You’re looking better these days, Beth,” Latch says.

I’m organizing the back of the bar while Latch sits on a stool in front of me nursing a beer. I blow out a large puff of air because if Latch knew what a mess I was inside, he probably wouldn’t say that.

“I’m trying to have faith,” I tell him.

“Good to know,” he says, taking a drink.

“Tell me about your sister.” I need something to take my mind off of things.

“How do you know about Lucy?”

“I heard some of the girls mention that you help take care of your sister. They think that means you’re sweet and caring.”

“You know better?”

“I think you probably care about your sister, but the fact that you step up to the plate to help her doesn’t make you sweet.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yep. I think it just means you use that to get into women’s pants.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t need help to get into women’s pants. They see me coming and that shit just magically falls off.”

“I’m sure,” I tell him, shaking my head. I’d argue with him, but after watching him and Sabre in action, I don’t even try. My phone beeps and I pull it out of my back pocket.

“Well, look there. Looks like Skull and the boys are back,” Latch says, using his drink to point to the security monitor that shows bikes and cars pulling into the parking lot outside. “You coming to say hi to your man?” he asks. I don’t look up though. I have a text from my father. It’s a file and I can’t see what it is because it hasn’t downloaded completely.

“What? Oh, go ahead. I’ll follow you in a minute. I want to… freshen up.”

“Women. Geez, you spend all day mooning over Skull and now you’re putting off going to see him. I can tell you he won’t care what the fuck you look like. He’d rather you meet him first, then freshen up.”

“Go on, will you? I’ll be there in a bit.”

He says something else, but I don’t hear it. My attention has turned to my phone. The file pops up; it’s a video. The screen shows a silver and red building that says Edna’s Truck Stop on the outside. My hand shakes as my thumb reaches up to hit the play button on the screen.

I watch as the scene unfolds, sending my body into shock. At first I can’t see what’s happening, but then it becomes all too clear. Men are diving to the ground and crawling behind bikes and cars as gunfire erupts everywhere. The camera zooms in, and from that angle I see a shattered window to the diner.

Then I see it. Skull is standing there and his arm is bleeding. The video shuts off, but another message arrived while I was watching. I hit play again—not wanting to know, but afraid not to. This time, Skull stands there looking out at a line of bodies. There are paramedics covering them in sheets and ambulances with their lights flashing. The video stops just in time for a text to appear on my screen:

I spared him this time. I won’t the next, Beth. The choice is yours.

My fingers shaking, I text back: Why are you doing this?

One painstakingly long minute later, I get a response: If I don’t take him out or end this, Colin won’t rest until he has you. I can’t allow you to be used against me, Beth. You need to make a choice. Skull’s life is in your hands.

I hear voices coming through the doors. My heart pounds against my chest and a cold sweat covers my skin. It’s time. After what I just saw, can I truly make any other decision? At one point in that video, a red dot had been on Skull’s head. He could have killed the man I love; he had him in the gun-sight and Skull’s death would have been my fault.

I take a breath. I close my eyes. My hand grips the locket around my neck. I don’t think I have any hope or faith left. Now, all I have is the will to make sure that Skull doesn’t die for loving me.

I make my fingers move: I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow morning.

Once I text him back, I put my phone up and walk around just in time to catch Skull entering the room. I run and wrap him up in my arms, letting the tears fall.

“Shh. I’m okay, querida. It’s just a small wound. Barely more than a scratch,” Skull says, trying to calm me. He thinks I’m upset over the wound. I am, but that’s not why the tears are flowing unchecked.

I’m going to have to give him up. I can’t keep Skull. He’s not mine. He never was. The truth of that nearly destroys me. I stand there in the middle of the room surrounded by his men and let him hold me while I cry out my pain—or at least a little of it.