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of my husband when I spy Vince coming out the back of the clubhouse. I want to know what the hell he was thinking, but I know not to engage in any conversation with the man. Not after the stunt he pulled fighting with Link like that. Its fucking crazy and stupid.

Vince hasn’t been a part of my life since the day I chose Link over him. I don’t know who he thinks he is. Men are way more dramatic than some women ever thought about being. Who does that? It’s been well over a decade since we had a fling. We weren’t even serious. Our relationship was wild and impulsive. Driven by lust and the thrill of the unknown. With Link I found my home. A steadiness I never knew I wanted until he gave it to me.

I march straight to him and put my arms around him. I look up at him and he gives me a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Babe,” he clips, body tense.

I worry that Vince is about to start more shit. Only when I follow Link’s gaze, I see his attention is on the last person I expected to see in attendance.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Standing off with Sandman, Prodigy, and Hound is that cunt. The cut chasing slut who has no damn right to be here at all. He swore I wouldn’t see her again. The only thing about her presence that brings me any joy is the swelling around her nose and the bruises framing her whore eyes.

“Do my eyes deceive me?”

“No.”

“Unbelievable.” I start to say more but we’re interrupted.

Vince moves in. “Look, man.”

“No, you look, motherfucker. Pam’s my wife. Mine. I’d never lay a hand on her. I get you made an assumption, but why you thought it was a damn thing to you is beyond me.”

Vince holds his hands up. “I come in peace. I admit my reaction earlier wasn’t cool.”

Link snorts. “Out of respect for the relationship between our clubs I’m gonna let it slide this once. Stay away from my wife and we won’t have a problem.”

“Noted. Pam, you ever need anything Murder knows how to reach me.”

“You got a hearing problem?” Link leers at Vince for a beat. The two of them enter a stare off, and I brace myself for what is to come. Another fight brews between them.

“Just want her to know she’s always got a friend in me.”

“Got plenty of friends. Look around.”

Vince nods but looks to me expecting me to acknowledge him. I don’t.

I keep quiet tucked into my husband’s side as Vince stomps off.

“Let’s go watch Viking decimate this guy.” Link takes my hand in his tugging me toward the pit and my girls. Link stands on the outside to my left. Jules, Alexa, then Wylla Mae, and Andi are in a row to my right.

I lean against my man and ignore the heat of Vince staring at me. Is he trying to set Link off? I snuggle closer to my husband. The volume of the music blasting lowers and Hound steps into the center of the pit. Everyone stops talking, giving him their attention and respect.

“The rules are simple. Place your bets with Banks. No weapons. Bare knuckles only. Want to step in the pit and prove yourself, see the Sandman. No one enters this circle but me and the fighters. The match ends when there is only one man left standing.”

The first fight of the night is between Prodigy and a member of Birds of Hell. A guy called Blue. They start out dancing around each other earning them a few boos.

“Do something ya pussies,” a deep voice yells.

Blue lands a few weak taps. He’s definitely not fit for this but it’s entertaining watching him try.

Prodigy seems to be taunting the poor guy.

Halfway through the match Nav taps Link on his shoulder and whispers something in his ear. An irritated rumble sounds from the back of his throat. “Be back in a second.” He dips his head to kiss my forehead. “Don’t wander off too far.” He grins but it doesn’t reach his eyes leaving me to wonder what the prospect wants with him.

I watch Link storm toward the clubhouse and watch for anyone to follow him. Like Vince. I scan where I last saw him, and he’s still rooted in the same spot but at least he seems focused on the fight and not me. I look back to the clubhouse and see Danika slipping through the back door.

That cunt. “I’m gonna get a beer. Be right back,” I tell my sister, numbly.

“You okay? You look a little pale.”

“Just need a drink,” I lie.

I slink through the crowd quietly, going toward the Devil’s Playground in search of my husband and that whore. I crack the back door open and glance down the hall. I start to throw the door open and march toward them, but I stop to observe. Their conversation is low enough I can’t hear what’s being said. Her hand goes to his waist and his hand wraps around her throat like it has mine a million times. I choke on my tears and touch my neck. Fuck him.

I don’t make a scene. I close the door, careful not to disturb the lovebirds.

Regret runs through my veins.

I trusted him.

He won’t make a fool of me again.

I dig my keys out of my pocket and dash around the side of the building to the front where I parked. I get in the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. “God. Fuck,” I scream and slap the wheel with my palms.

Tears wet my cheeks, plopping onto the thighs of my blue jeans. How dare he. After everything we talked about. After the way he made love to me and swore there would only ever be me. I can’t do this. A sob shudders in my chest.

The passenger door opens, and I jump nearly banging my head on the roof of the SUV. “Jesus.

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