Mark

 

Mark stood near the entrance of the bar, trying as hard as he could not to stare at Stella, who was serving drinks to a crowd of customers in the center of the room. She’d shoved him away, slowly but surely over the past week, making it clear that she was no longer interested in him. He figured that he shouldn’t have been surprised. They never discussed what they were, never made any promises to each other. But for some reason it caught him off guard when she began to turn him down, walking away from him every time he tried to start up a conversation. It stung him a little, but Mark could take a hint. So she wasn’t interested. No big deal, right?

 

He shifted uncomfortably against the wall, feeling a weird tension in his shoulders and at the top of his back, the ache in his bones flaring up every time he thought of Stella. Okay, so apparently it bothered him, being…not “broken up with,” exactly, but rejected. So what? He’d get over it soon enough. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. In reality, he’d never felt this way before and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with these new feelings.

 

The next moment, Wesley walked by, tearing Mark out of his thoughts. “Come with me,” his boss said, gesturing for Mark to follow him into the back office.

 

As soon as Mark was inside the office, Wesley closed and locked the door, leaning over his desk like he needed something to support his weight. The poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept in about a year, his face pale and drawn with worry. “What’s up?” Mark asked after several long moments of awkward, tense silence between them.

 

“I don’t know what to do, Mark,” Wesley said, sighing out the words, sounding like he’d just run ten miles in a row.

 

“About the MC?” Mark suggested, and Wesley nodded in response.

 

“That guy, Cameron or whatever his name is, he won’t leave me alone. He showed up at my fucking house, man, with two huge dudes behind him, saying that he was just checking in on me,” Wesley said, blowing out his breath and rubbing his forehead frantically, like he was trying to scrub off his own skin. “I have no fucking clue what to do here, man.”

 

“They’re just trying to scare you,” Mark said, stepping a little closer to Wesley’s desk. “Don’t give them what they want.”

 

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” Wesley said, his voice getting a little louder and sharper as his frustration grew. “Huh? What’s the big answer? Because I don’t know what else to do here, man, besides just wait for them to make their move.”

 

Mark nodded slowly. “We can hire some more bouncers for the club.  Make it so that they’re more nervous about showing up randomly and trying to force their way in,” he suggested.

 

“I don’t have the money for that,” Wesley said exasperatedly. “And besides, it was hard enough finding two or three guys to work here. Everyone else in this stupid town is either in an MC or too scared of them to do anything.”

 

Mark didn’t know what to say. The truth was, Wesley was right to be afraid. There was no clear solution, no obvious way out of their predicament. For now, all they could do was wait on pins and needles for the MC to act. Maybe it would take months; maybe it’d even take years before the Marauders would make a move. Maybe they were really too scared to do anything and just wanted Wesley to be more afraid than they were. Maybe it was all just an extended game of chicken. But there was no way for them to tell.

 

Wesley cleared his throat and straightened up, staring across at Mark for a second before speaking again. “I’m thinking of selling.”

 

“Selling Haven?” Mark asked.

 

Wesley nodded. “That’s one thing that Cameron suggested to me the other night. He’ll buy it from me and then I can get out of town without getting my hands dirty.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Mark muttered under his breath, his hands curling up into fists automatically just at the sound of Cameron’s name. “You can’t do that, Wesley.”

 

“Why not?” Wesley said, his tone defensive and a little angry. “Why the fuck not? What else can I do here, Mark? Get fucking killed by a bunch of bikers just because of this crummy little place?”

 

“You just got here!” Mark said. “This is your fucking bar. Don’t roll over and do whatever Cameron wants just because he’s the head of some stupid motorcycle gang. Don’t let them fucking control you, Wesley.”

 

Wesley shrugged and shook his head. “You know, in another life, maybe, I’d listen to you. But I’m getting old, Mark. I can’t keep starting over. I can’t keep starting businesses that fail. I need money. I need to survive. If I sell to Cameron, I might make a small profit and then be able to get out of this dump. Maybe I could go somewhere where there aren’t any gangs threatening to get in the way of my business,” he said.

 

Mark racked his brain for a response, trying to land on any possible solution to convince Wesley not to sell. But he couldn’t come up with anything. He sighed deeply and nodded. “I understand,” he said, even though he felt anger simmering up from the base of his stomach. “Let me know before you make the sale, okay? I just want to have warning before the place gets turned into Marauders Central.”

 

“All right,” Wesley said, sitting down behind his desk and pulling out his bottle of whiskey. “I’ll talk to you later. Get back to work.”

 

Mark marched back out of Wesley’s office, heading straight for the bar, cutting through the crowd of people to get to Stella. “Meet me outside. Now,” he said, not pausing to get her response before he walked through the back entrance to wait for her.

 

Luckily, she must have sensed the urgency in his voice, as she showed up less than a minute later, hugging her arms to protect herself against the bitter cold outside. “What’s going on?” she asked.

 

“It’s over,” Mark said, his voice coming out dull and emotionless even though inside he felt like all of his organs were boiling over. “The Haven. It’s done.”

 

“What do you mean?” Stella asked. She stepped forward a little, like she was going to get closer to Mark, but then she stopped herself.

 

“Wesley’s going to sell to the Marauders,” Mark explained. “It’s over.”

Stella’s jaw fell open for a second, but then she closed it, her eyes looking glazed over and unfocused as she began to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

 

“That makes sense?” Mark parroted back to her, feeling confused and angry. “So you’re just ready to give up, too?”

 

Stella sighed and shrugged. “I tried, Mark. We tried. It’s not going to work, though. They’re just bigger than us. There’s no way to fight them.”

 

Mark shook his head, his thoughts pounding painfully on the inside of his skull. He knew she was right, but he was just so fucking frustrated. It was just like being kicked out of the Army all over again. The guy with the largest number of people behind him won, always. He was stupid for ever thinking otherwise, he knew, but it was like there was some idiotic part of him that never stopped believing there was a way to fight back. He just wished he knew what it was.

 

“Anyway, I figured you’d want to know so you can, like, get as many shifts as possible before Cameron takes over,” Mark said. “Although, who knows, right? Maybe he’ll keep you on once he takes over. He still seems to be into you.”

 

Stella’s whole body flinched visibly, and Mark immediately regretted saying what he’d said about Cameron. He knew she didn’t love Cameron anymore, but he couldn’t help but think that if Cameron took over the Haven, he’d take over Stella again, too.

 

Maybe that’s why he was really angry. Mark didn’t really care about Haven, except as a symbol for his time with Stella. It was all about her, right from the start, he finally realized, feeling like the truth hit him directly in the stomach, right as he looked across at Stella again and noticed that her eyes were filled with tears.

 

“I—I’m…” Mark trailed off, unsure if his mouth was capable of saying the words, “I’m sorry” even though his heart was screaming at him to just say it.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m just being stupid,” Stella said, sniffling loudly and wiping at her wet eyes. “I’m just emotional lately, that’s all.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mark asked, stepping a little closer to Stella.

 

But Stella took a step back, preserving the distance between them. “No, I’m all right. I think I’m just going to quit before he takes over. Maybe leave town.”

 

“Oh,” Mark said, feeling a weird sensation of hope begin to grow from his chest like a leaf sprouting from a sidewalk. “Where?”

 

Stella shrugged. “Anywhere. Nowhere. Just not here.”

 

Mark nodded. He understood that impulse. It was the thing that brought him here, to this middle-of-nowhere piece of shit town ruled by MCs. But why was he now so tempted to stay, to fight, to stop running?

 

Looking at Stella, seeing the way she fought so hard to hold back her tears, he knew that he had his answer.

 

But it didn’t matter. It was over between them. She didn’t want anything real, and Mark would just have to respect that. Even if it almost killed him.