“Come eat!” my mother, Princess Cruz, calls from the mouth of the hallway that leads down to my childhood bedroom.

I close the box and tape the top of it. I’ve been going at this all day with my door closed. Now, it’s time to tell them.

I’m nervous, not going to lie, but I’m going to tackle them both at once. I figure that will make things go easier, at least in the long run. The lease is signed, deposit and first month’s rent is down. The place is ours, and I’m ready to get on with my life and my plan.

I make my way to the kitchen, taking in the house on the way. My mom doesn’t do flashy. Everything in her home is very down to earth and casual. The kitchen is large, the cabinets a rustic wooden color. The walls are painted cream, but then she has vibrant prints on one of the walls with pictures of her three kids on the other. The table fits eight people, but it can be expanded out if needed. It’s home, and I’ve always loved it here. It will be a great place to visit. Yes, visit, not stay.

“There you are. What have you been doing cooped up in that room all day?” my mother asks, standing by the stove as she puts spaghetti on plates.

Princess is beautiful and doesn’t look like she’s in her later forties at all. If anything, she looks like she’s my age. With her vibrant red streaks in her dark black hair, she stands out in a crowd. My mother would stand out, anyway, but the hair makes it no contest.

I bet Lexa did her hair in the last few weeks. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but now that I’m back, I’ll do it.

“Need help?” I ask instead of answering, not quite ready to explain. Plus, I want my father here. Two birds, one stone and all.

“Sure.” She hands me a plate, and I put meat sauce on top of the noodles, then a piece of garlic toast on the side.

“Smells good,” my father’s deep voice comes from the entrance of the kitchen. He walks to the table, sitting down in his spot.

I carry the plate over and put it in front of my father.

He looks up at me, love in his eyes. “Thank you, baby girl.”

With a smile on my face and warmth in my heart, I make my way back over to my mother who hands me another plate that I do the same thing to then sit next to my father.

The food looks good and smells good, but inside, butterflies have decided to take a hit of crack and have a party in my belly, unsure of how my parents will take the news. I’ve been here for months under their watchful eye. Now this will change. A change they had to know would arrive at some point.

When my mother joins us, we dig in. We’re not a family that is particular about manners. Belching is a norm, mostly by my two brothers when they’re here and my father. My mom always says it’s a compliment to her cooking, considering she couldn’t cook for shit back in the day and had to learn. It was a running joke when we were little because, if it weren’t for takeout, we’d have starved.

“This weekend, I want you at the clubhouse,” my father springs on me, making me stop the fork midway to my mouth.

I haven’t been to the clubhouse in three and a half months. It’s not because I was angry or upset with anyone; I just haven’t wanted to deal with it. Deal with the questions or the looks of pity since everyone knows what happened to me. Fuck that.

My parents have been pretty lenient about my attendance at family functions, which I’m grateful for. Judging from my mother’s demeanor and the sternness in her face, this isn’t going to be one of those times where I’m going to get out of it. Between her and my father, they’re going to strong arm me.

The timing is a bit sooner than I thought-out, but I’ll make it work. It’s time.

“Sure thing.”

My mother’s fork clatters to her plate, the sudden noise giving me a little jolt. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s fine. I’m back to work and getting my life in order. It’s time to move on.”

A smile graces her face. “This is good. I’m proud of you, Austyn.” My mother has always been on my side, my biggest cheerleader in life. I’m hoping that’ll prove true with what I’m about to lay on them. With me agreeing to go back into the fold so readily, it may lessen the blow.

“Emery and I got a place at The Brookshire, and we’re going to move in tomorrow.”

My mother stares at me, dumbfounded.

My father glares, which was expected.

Silence falls over the room as the air gets sucked out of it. The tension becomes so thick it’s almost making me rethink my decision. Almost.

I can only be thankful Nox, Cooper, and his woman, Bristyl, aren’t here to add their two cents to the mix. That would only add to my discomfort. No more of that is needed.

“It’s time for me to get on with my life and not live in the past.” Gripping the napkin, it tears and breaks into smaller pieces, but there is no stopping.

My father pushes away from the table and crosses his arms, looking very imposing. “That fucker is still out there. He had you tied to a table and stuck blades in you. Repeatedly. And you want me to let you out of my sight?” The pain in his eyes is stark, his features tight.

He doesn’t need to remind me of what happened. I remember every agonizing second of it.

Memories flood my mind. The pain. The fear. The unknown. The way he looked at me, smiling as he pushed the knife inside my flesh slowly so it would be more painful. I still feel those moments when the metal entered my flesh.

The man hates me, but not as much as I hate him.

“I lived it, Dad.”

His eyes soften just a touch at my tone and words. He was at my side while I recovered and saw the pain that man inflicted. He heard me cry and had to cover my wounds after adding ointment to them. My father is a man who likes control, and him not getting that, not having him, has been eating at him. I know it.

“I know, and I’m sure as hell never going to let you go through that again. We’re working on finding him, but he’s gone ghost.”

The club has been searching for him since it happened. That’s what my brothers Nox and Cooper, who are patched members of the club, have told me. They couldn’t tell me anymore because it’s club business, even though it’s also my business.

Since no one said anything about finding him, I suspected this would make things harder.

“I get that, but I can’t let him win. Being cooped up in this house isn’t living. Me working. Having my own place. Going to the clubhouse for family things. That’s me living.”

“We get that, Austyn,” my mother finally speaks. “But he could come at any moment, and we won’t know.”

I think fast, knowing this opportunity could be slipping through my fingers. It isn’t an option I can lose. My parents are great, but they are demanding, as well.

“The apartment has a security system, and we were thinking Buzz and Breaker could come and amp it up. If you wanted, they could put cameras on the outside of the place to watch who comes and goes.” This is a bit of a stretch, but if it will make this happen, I’ll suck it up. As long as the cameras aren’t inside the apartment, watching my every move, I’ll be good.

“Why is this so important to you?” my mother asks softly, which is not her style one bit. She’s more straight to the point and in your face. Her being on the gentle side tugs at my heart.

“I’m taking my life back, Mom. What he did to me, I can’t change. What I can control is what I do now.” In more ways than one. This is just the first major step.

“I should put you on lockdown,” my father grunts out, and my stomach falls like a lead weight.

Being on lockdown at the clubhouse will ruin everything. Not being able to leave the compound and having all the brothers watching me all the time is not an option at this point. Having the cameras at the new place is a stretch, but this can’t happen.

“No, no lockdown, Dad.”

He studies me for long moments, face blank, not giving me anything. I feel it slipping away—my control—and I hate it. I need it back to feel whole again.

“I—”

“I’m having the guys go full-out with security,” he cuts me off. “They will monitor the place twenty-four seven.” He runs his hand through his dark hair that has a little more salt in it than it did a few weeks ago, giving it a tug. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m letting you do this shit. If I have one inkling that he’s in town, you’re on lockdown, no questions asked. Something isn’t right, your ass is at the clubhouse.”

That isn’t good, but I’ll take it … for now.

Relief falls over me like a warm rain. “I’ll take it.”

Step two of the plan—check.