The other Notus members were already in Wayne's garage waiting for him. Rich closed the door and approached the desk. There were many reasons why he wanted to go after Cross by himself. The most important one being he wanted to protect Notus from being involved in a crime.

They were used to finding missing persons. After losing Thalia, they'd used their purpose for good. The community of St. John's respected them. The police worked side by side with them.

Knowing the club saved Gracie and dished out justice for Thalia's murder by killing Roy Jenson, he owed them. If he ended up killed, he'd die satisfied that he'd done his best for Notus.

"I need to approach Cross myself. This is between him and me." Rich slipped his hand into his pocket and tossed the key to his motorcycle on the desk. "I'll need to borrow your truck."

Wayne remained stretched out in the chair, his boots on the desk. "Chuck will drive the truck to where Cross is staying. Everyone else will ride out with you."

"Fuck," he muttered, knowing he needed to lay everything on the table in front of them and take the consequences.

"I'm not going over there to talk Cross out of killing me. Only one of us will walk away." Rich paused letting that sink in with the others. "I understand that's not the purpose behind Notus and if you're going to turn me in for what I'm going to do tonight, I rather walk out in the street and let Cross kill me. I won't go to prison, and I'd prefer not to be on the run because Komoon will send another man after me if I'm spending time in prison for murder. If that happens, and they find out Gracie gave me shelter away from them to do the deed, they'll go after her. They'll go after Notus. Even if we had the numbers to defend against their war, I wouldn't allow any of you to make that choice. This is on me. You know the club laws. You don't owe me a fucking thing. If you go against me, let me walk out alone."

Chuck shook his head and stepped away from the desk. Wayne looked at Thad and Glen. Rich tried to read the silent communication between the men. When he was young, he would've understood the warnings, the silent jokes, the ideas built between them. Now he was on the outside.

Thad walked across the room, opened the filing cabinet, and removed files. Rich watched him closely. They could've agreed to call the cops on him. It'd been a lifetime since he was a part of Notus. He expected no loyalty. He'd fucked them over, the same way he had betrayed Komoon Motorcycle Club by keeping his loyalty to another club secret.

Now, he paid the price for his mistakes. Again.

"Take a look in the folder." Wayne latched his hands behind his head and leaned farther back in the chair.

Thad slapped the file on the desk in front of him. On the other side of the garage, Chuck lit a cigar. A snap came from Rich's left. He glanced at Glen, who spit a sunflower seed in an empty Solo cup.

He picked up the folder and opened it.

"That first picture you're seeing was George S. Hawkins. He raped and murdered a thirteen-year-old girl. The court system let him go on a technicality," said Wayne.

Rich flipped to the next paper. He didn't want to know more about the work Notus performed for others. Thirteen years old was too young to be missing.

"Larry Kirkland." Wayne put all four legs of the chair on the floor and leaned against the desk. "He abducted a three-year-old boy, kept him for over a year before we found him. We were a day late to save the kid. Kirkland never made it into police custody."

He turned to the next paper. An older man with deep acne scars wearing a suit smiled at the camera.

"Bruce Soue. A habitual molester. His last victim was a fifteen-year-old girl who went to the same church as Soue. She ran away. While the police searched, eight children from the church came forward with sexual molestation charges against Soue." Wayne's gaze narrowed. "Soue got out with a pass that he would attend counseling and stay out of the church and away from children. We made sure he stayed away from children forever."

Thad ripped the folder out of Rich's hand and shuffled through the papers. He stopped and tapped the file. "Roy Jenkins. He killed six females from the age of six years old to thirty-two. He's responsible for abducting, raping, and killing Thalia. He's dead."

The tension in the room suffocated Rich. He stared at the man who'd taken Thalia from him, hurt Gracie, and ruined the lives of more girls than they probably could prove.

He'd wondered for twenty-five years who was responsible. He'd looked in many men's faces, wondering if they were the ones. Notus found him. Thad killed him. It'd been too late to save Thalia, but they'd saved Gracie.

"Notus got rid of every person on those papers." Wayne closed the folder and passed it to Glen. "While you were away, we've breathed, seen, and felt the devastation left behind when those motherfuckers were done hurting women and children. When the court system failed to protect the community from them, we made sure not another person would ever be touched and harmed."

"You can take that information and shove it up your ass." Glen's upper lip twitched. "I don't regret anything we've done."

Chuck walked back to the desk. "Legally, there's enough information in this garage to give us all the death penalty, and now you have everything you need to really fuck us up and make us pay for whatever shit you have against us."

"It's not all in black and white in that folder. I killed my wife's ex-boyfriend. In the eyes of the law, he would've walked away free." Glen shrugged and popped a few more sunflowers in his mouth. "I will do anything to protect her. I can't erase the memory and pain she dealt with from her abuser, but I can make her future better."

"There are things we do..." Chuck uncrossed his arms and pointed in the air. "Out there." He circled his finger around the room. "Then, there are things we do to protect our own."

"If you're saying Komoon won't stop trying to kill you if we don't take out Cross, we'll go with you to make sure you live another day... as a club." Wayne stood. "I don't give a fuck that you blacked out your Notus tattoo, or you rode under another patch. I don't give a shit how much you've changed, or you keep refusing to answer our questions. We'll ride together and take out Cross as a club because, at one time, you would've done the same for us, and it's what we've sworn to do. Protect each other and our own."

They'd changed since he'd left. Rich's throat constricted, and he steeled his jaw. Not one of them had killed anyone before Thalia was murdered.

Rocked by the information, he compared his past activities to the ones confessed by the club.  There was a difference between them and him.

A difference he wouldn't allow them to know about. A difference that drove him away from the club and away from St. John's.

Wayne, Thad, Glen, and Chuck's actions were for the betterment of a community and vigilante justice for the victims of the crime. Rich's actions were a crime. Selfish and pure vengeance.

He stepped away from the desk. The urge to avoid the information handed to him and to get a breather after dealing with Cross pushed him to get business over for the night.

Finally, he said, "You'll need to put some gas in my tank. Then, I'll be ready to ride and finish this."

Gracie was tucked safely in the house with her sister and the other women who belonged to Notus members. He followed the others into the main part of the house. The men could fool themselves into believing they were going to protect Gracie and the club, but he had no delusions.

He was going to have to go against everything he'd struggled with throughout the years to kill Cross. To save himself because he'd put himself in the position he wanted to avoid by joining Komoon.

His stomach rolled. Tonight would be his atonement for when he was twenty years old, and his world turned black.

Afraid he wouldn't make it back from the darkness, he prepared himself, to save the men who meant the most to him.

In the living room, he waited by the front door while the others kissed their women. The thick mood infected everyone, and the low murmurs exchanged between the couples burned inside of him. They were the reason why he'd never returned to St. John's.

They all had their lives they were living. Despite the information he was given about their activities, they had settled into a life that brought them pleasure. He never wanted to disrupt their ability to be happy.

He hardened himself. From experience, he couldn't stop the course that spiraled him out of control and gave him a free pass to hell.

Gracie sat on the couch, cuddled up in a blanket, looking at him. His chest tightened, chipping his defense. From the outside, she appeared vulnerable. But after what she'd shared with him earlier today, she was the strongest woman he'd ever met. She tempted him, more than any woman had since loving Thalia.

"Be careful," she mouthed, tucking the blanket around her legs tighter.

It would be easier to ignore her than face how he felt. He dipped his chin keeping eye contact with her. Notus foisted him on her, but he wasn't her responsibility. He never wanted her to worry about him.

Beautiful and gentle, Gracie took the hard path after her abduction. She continued to face each day and found ways around her fears while staying with those who loved her.

He now understood the extra security measures at her house and on her person. The fear she'd displayed with Cross stalking outside her place and trying to break in wasn't misplaced. She'd stayed, for him, despite her own fears.

Wayne slapped his shoulder, breaking his connection with Gracie. "Ready?"

He turned, shutting off his feelings and walked outside into the darkness, knowing when tonight ended, there were two whiskey bottles in his duffle calling his name, and he could forget.

Together as a group, Wayne, Thad, Chuck, Glen, and Rich rolled quietly out of the driveway. On the road, he fell fourth in line with Chuck at his back in the truck.

He needed no instructions because eliminating Cross fell on him. He'd finish the job before Cross realized he already had two feet in a six-foot grave.

Wayne parked a block and a half away from the house where Cross stayed, and everyone pulled over. On foot, Rich led them down the alley, out of sight from the road with the cover of darkness.

A hand grabbed his arm, and he stopped. Chuck said, "You'll need to use this instead of the pistol. There are too many houses around."

They had no idea he'd left the pistol at Gracie's. That he refused to carry it. That he couldn't.

He looked down and found Chuck handed him the butt handle of a knife. Taking the weapon, he flipped it upside down, blade to wrist. Sweat broke out over his body. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't affected by the plans sitting in front of him.

It would be easier to quietly leave town with Cross and take his punishment. To let the Notus members believe he'd run off again.

"Chuck will drive down the alley in fifteen minutes." Thad stepped up to Rich's other side. "He's got a tarp in the truck. If you can wait until—"

"I can wait." He continued walking.

He went the rest of the way to the house in silence as if the years apart from Notus Motorcycle Club never happened. And, squelched down the hope that he could fix his life.

He'd gone too far.

Even if he completed the job ahead of him, it changed nothing.

He couldn't stay.

The danger to those he loved too high. A risk he'd never take.

Outside the back door, a wave of dizziness hit him. He hunkered down beside the house, pressing his back to the siding. Unable to get enough air, he panted.

"Hold up," whispered Wayne standing over Rich.

His fucked-up vision made it impossible to see the others spread out to the sides of him. Rich pressed his fingers against his eyes. The tunnel vision his first sign that everything was slipping.

"Give me a sec." He clamped his mouth, swallowing the vomit threatening to come up.

A girl flashed in his head.

He squeezed his eyes closed.

Her screams pierced his ears.

He dropped the knife and covered his head.

Somewhere in the distance, Wayne said, "Stay with him. We'll take care of Cross."

His heartbeat roared in his head. The blood flowed out onto the ground, covering his boots.

There was no coming back.