After Sable left the kitchen, leaving her alone, she looked down at herself. Beth laid a gentle hand over the natural roundness of her stomach. Could she be pregnant already? Was life beginning to form in her body? It was too soon to know anything, but it was possible.

Would Forge love his own child or would be heartless like her father? She’d never let her child live the same miserable existence she’d been forced to endure. No, it would know unconditional love. If that meant running from the club to protect her child from Forge, she’d do it, even if it cost her everything.

She heard a bike coming home. It hadn’t been long since they all left. Could it be Forge?

Chapter Eleven

Beth was going to make a sandwich when Hound rushed through the door. He looked panicked and for the first time she’d ever seen, afraid.

“You’ve got to come,” he said, stopping and staring at her.

“What?”

“I need you to follow me. It’s Forge. He’s in trouble and he needs you.”

She stared at the man, not really sure what she should do or if she should even trust him. He wasn’t a friend to her—far from it.

After what Forge did to her, she didn’t want to go running back to him regardless of if he was in trouble.

But if he’s in serious trouble, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. You still love him even if you don’t like him right now.

She sounded weak even to her own ears and she hated sounding like that.

Beth reluctantly got up. “What kind of trouble?”

“Just come with me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to fucking understand, you stupid bitch. You’ve got to learn to follow instructions. That’s all you’ve got to do. It’s nothing complicated. Why does everything with you women have to be an essay? Can’t you just do?”

She gritted her teeth even as her eyes filled with tears. She shouldn’t be sad or upset. He clearly wasn’t used to dealing with women and besides, his insults reminded her of her father. He always told her how she was useless or that she only had no good qualities. It was nothing new. She was used to being insulted.

“I’ll put this away then we can go.”

Hound marched over to her, grabbed the plate in her hand, and threw it to the ground, the fractured pieces scattering in every direction. “I said now.” He took her wrist and dragged her out of the kitchen.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me. Stop.”

He didn’t listen.

All of a sudden, Sable stood by the bar. “Hound, what’s going on?”

“Prez needs her.”

“Where is he?” asked Sable.

“None of your fucking business. She’s coming with me.”

The more he spoke, the more the fear crawled up inside her. This wasn’t right. Something was off. She didn’t know exactly what, but it scared her, terrified her. She didn’t know what to do.

Looking at Sable, she tried to communicate her fear to the other woman so she’d go and get some help.

Sable rounded the bar. “Hound, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t know what’s going on but we both know Forge wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”

He sighed. “You know, I kind of liked you. I know Dog had a bit of a thing for you, but you talk way too much. No brother is going to make a whore an old lady. I’m putting you out of your misery.”

The sound of the gunshot echoed around the room and Sable fell to the floor.

Hound had shot Sable.

Beth couldn’t believe it.

Forge wasn’t in trouble at all.

This man was double-crossing him or betraying him. Either way, it was fucked up and she couldn’t allow him to do something like that.

He had the gun trained on Sable’s head, about to shoot at her again, and she couldn’t let that happen.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t want to die.”

There was an empty beer bottle within reach. Beth didn’t think. She didn’t allow herself to weigh the cost of what doing this would mean if she was pregnant. Angering a man who looked more like a giant wasn’t a good idea. It was a fucking stupid idea, she knew that. But Sable didn’t deserve to die. She had a right to have a chance at a life, of being happy. She wasn’t about to let another man order and hurt a woman.

She was fucking done with all this shit.

After grabbing the bottle, she slammed it once across his head. It didn’t smash like it did in the movies. She hit him again, distracting him, getting him to turn his attention on her. She could handle the abuse, the pain, the nasty words.

Only, she didn’t stick around to hear it. Charging toward the front of the clubhouse, she ran out, going straight for the gate. His bike was parked near the main doors and she rushed past.

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