“Found where Yana lives,” Finn says, walking into my office at the club and dropping a piece of paper in front of me. Damon walks in after him, followed by Slater.

Slater is on to fight tonight, so we’re all here.

I need to pull some more money in. Been too focused on Shania and everything else going on that I haven’t been focused on the club. Need to bring in some new meat, some new fighters, something to get them excited again. The garage is doing well, but I need this, too. Not just for the cash, but for my sanity.

“How’d you find her address? Malakai was havin’ trouble locating it,” I ask him, looking down at the piece of paper he has dropped. It has an address.

“Take a wild guess?”

I shake my head, giving him a look. “Not really in the guessin’ mood,” I mutter.

“She’s livin’ with your boy Nicolai. That’s why it was so hard to find her address. Followed her home. Got a glimpse of him. Got a kid. Livin’ town over from this. An hour’s drive, if that. Who knew findin’ her would lead us to him.”

That close, this whole fucking time.

Poor Shania.

And even worse that she’s living with Nicolai still, because that means he probably knows where Shania is, knows about the fucker we found in her house, and has probably been watching us the whole fucking time. I mean, that piece of shit knew where Shania lived, knew how to get in, and also knew where my club was. Which means he had been watching for some time, that or someone had told him.

“Guess it’s time we tell Shania, then,” Damon says, rubbing his chin. “I’m sure she’ll be happy.”

“No,” I mutter, putting the paper in my pocket.

Slater narrows his eyes. “What do you mean fuckin’ no? She specifically asked us to find him, and that’s it.”

“You saw what happened the other night in her apartment, Slater. She got attacked. I don’t trust that asshole, and I’m not just goin’ to let her go in blind.”

“Then you keep watch when she goes to see him, but you can’t keep this from her,” he growls.

“It ain’t your call this time, brother. It’s mine. I’m goin’ first.”

“You could fuck the whole thing up for her, you don’t even know the full story,” Finn argues now, too.

“I’m the fuckin’ boss here,” I snarl at them. “Do you fuckin’ understand?”

“Yeah, and where the fuck has that gotten us in life?” Slater grinds out, stepping up to me. He’s big now, but I won’t step down to my little brother, even if he could probably take me.

“Past is in the past,” I growl.

“Yeah, and your decisions haven’t always led us down the right path. You want me to step back, let you go chargin’ in, possibly ruinin’ this for Shania. She asked for our help. We did what she asked. It’s up to her what she does now.” Slater holds my eyes, challenging me.

“That’s enough, you two,” Damon sighs, stepping between us and pushing us apart. “We’re not goin’ to go toe to toe for the rest of our lives. Lincoln, Slater is right. This is Shania’s call. Understand you’re tryin’ to protect her, but you don’t get to keep this from her. She has a right to know, and if you don’t tell her, I will.”

I turn and glare at my brother. “Be careful, Damon. I’m not in the mood.”

He steps closer now, too. Damon has always stood back, always been the calm one, the funny one, the one who has been able to keep situations calm. Now he’s stepping up to me, nose to nose, and I actually think he’d have a go. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s about time my little brother found his balls.

“Or what? I’m so fuckin’ sick of this family. The fightin’. The arguin’. The failure to agree. This club is goin’ to shit because nobody can agree with what goes on down here. Our lives are goin’ to fall the fuck apart if we don’t get our shit together. You’re the rock, Lincoln. Stoppin’ us all. Blockin’ our way. You are hangin’ on so tightly you can’t let go. We’re grown us men, and unless you want to lose us, I suggest you start fuckin’ lettin’ us have a say, too.”

That hurts coming from him.

Fought my whole fucking life for my brothers. Sure, I fucked up, more than once, but I’ve always fought for them. Worked for them. Put my life aside ... for them.

Everything, for them.

“Everythin’ I’ve done, Damon,” I grind out, “has fuckin’ been for you. Do you understand me? For you, for Finn, for Slater. If you think I’m hard, it’s because I have to be. Now, back the fuck off.”

Damon grinds his jaw, but snips out, “No. You tell her, or I will.”

I step closer, curling my hand in his shirt and jerking him so we’re practically nose to nose. “You tell her, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“Go on, Lincoln, fight me. I don’t care. It won’t stop me doin’ the damned right thing, which is what you should have done.”

“Enough,” Slater growls, taking hold of Damon and pulling him backward and out of my grip.

Finn just stares at us, and then says, “You know, sometimes I’m ashamed to call myself a Knight.”

And with that, he turns and walks out.

Fuck.

“Tell her, or we do,” Damon growls, following Finn out.

I look to Slater. “Did I fuck up so badly that you all hate me so damned much?”

His eyes meet mine. “No, but you know what, Lincoln. You know, in all of this, we understand that you did what you had to do, that you fought for what you thought was right, that you kept us afloat. But when you did fuck up, you never once came to me, looked me in the eye, and told me how fuckin’ sorry you were.”

“I’ve said sorry,” I growl.

“Not the way you should have. You hold your cards so damned close to your chest. You don’t let anyone in. Keep it up, and you’ll die alone, and very fuckin’ broken.”

With that, he walks out, too.

Fuck.

Pent-up rage eats away at me, and my hands shake. They’re right, I know they’re right, but I’ve had to live with the guilt of the mistakes I’ve made for my whole fucking life, too. They think it doesn’t matter to me, but they’re wrong. They’re all that has ever mattered to me. They’re the only things I’ve ever worried about.

And I fucked it up.

I turn and walk out of the office, locking it. I move to the locker room and straight over to where Slater is getting ready for his fight. “Step down, Slater. I’m fightin’ tonight.”

He turns and looks at me. “You never fuckin’ fight.”

“Tonight, I start.”

With that, I get ready to fight. Because fuck them.

Fuck them all.

I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.

~*~*~*~