TYSON

“It’s okay,” I coo down to the baby boy, Honor, in my arms as I bounce the unhappy kid. Hemingway has her daughter, Haven, feeding her.

“It’s Christmas,” Hemmi cries. “I wanna go home. I’m so damn tired, Tyson.”

“I’ll get us there. I swear I will, but not until it’s safe. We can’t bring this horror show to the brothers. They have enough to deal with without us adding more.”

“Tyson, won’t we need their help though?” Hemmingway asks me. “How can the two of us be enough of a force to take them down?”

I have us hidden so damn well that not even my brothers or Pops’ men can find us. I have associates so damn dirty, men I’ve never mentioned and have kept to myself in case of situations such as this, who have become loyal to me and are assisting me right now.

I thought this place would be used for me and Amara. I figured once she’d met a milestone in her recovery, she’d need a place to unwind and start adjusting to her new reality. I never considered she was broken to the point that she’d take her own life and leave me behind, trying to figure out how I didn’t know that having men keeping an eye on her wasn’t enough. She needed to be locked up, tethered to the ground.

But my Amara, she was always meant to fly, just not in the way she did.

I loved her in a way. I thought we were meant to be. Two broken souls mending the other. She was mentally and emotionally more unstable than even Doc Shell knew. She hid that shit, she pretended to be healthier than she was.

I have this feeling she was planning her escape from life long before she ever did. She fooled me, and I refuse to ever be fooled again.

“Merry Christmas, little one,” I say to Honor. “Maybe next year we’ll be home with our family.”

HEMMINGWAY

When Tyson saved me like an avenging angel, I’d presumed we’d be heading straight for my brother and the club. Instead, we’ve been hiding out in the middle of the woods, no neighbors within sight.

In order to get in or out, you need a four-wheeler to traverse through the rugged terrain. No one can enter without us being alerted, but on the flip side, we can’t leave either without struggling. We have to move slower with two babies and all of the things they need. Diapers, formula since my milk dried up because those fuckers refused to let me feed my own babies, clothes, wipes, the list of supplies is never ending.

Even being rescued from my captors, I still feel like a prisoner.

At least, this time around, I have the ability to bond with my babies. They aren’t being dangled over me as a way to keep me obedient and pliant.

“Merry Christmas,” I say to the universe, sending the message of love and well-wishes to all the people I love and have missed. “I’ll be home soon. I hope.”

The End

Watch for Tyson and Hemmingway’s book. Their story will be the next to be released in the DreamCatcher Motorcycle Club series.