“Why?” My voice comes out cracked.
There’s silence in the room, and when I glance up, most everyone is focused on the table, but Dad’s watching me. “Things were building up to bad with the Riot. It’s why your mom and I fought. Same shit that had gone down with the Riot years before was happening again and she was scared for me.”
Because years ago, Dad almost died in the fight for Emily’s safety. Dim memories of hushed hospital rooms and the man I believed invincible in a bed. Mom in tears by his side, Olivia whispering to me that he was strong and me clinging to Cyrus’s hand like if I let go I would tumble down a dark hole.
“Olivia was watching you and your mother refused to draw them anywhere near you, which meant she wouldn’t come anywhere near the clubhouse.”
It’s too much. Too fucking much and I breathe in but the air doesn’t reach my lungs. “Did she know about the code?”
“Yes and no,” Dad answers. “She saw a different piece of code once in my belongings. Your mom was quick. Realized by my reaction when I saw it in her hands it was related to the Riot, but didn’t know much else. This was that messed-up period after Eli was released from prison. The Riot was pissed he got out on parole and they wanted to renege on the deal made to keep peace between our clubs. They demanded we hand over Eli. We told them to go fuck themselves. So we began negotiating. Communicating through the code and short meetings.”
“Why code?” I ask.
“Law enforcement has always been after them,” Eli explains. “Made them paranoid. They didn’t like putting anything in writing. Face-to-face meetings were risky for both sides—too many pissed-off people with guns. We first used the code when they found out Meg was pregnant with Emily. She knew all their different ways of translating the code. When the stakes between our clubs were being raised and they felt that law enforcement was on the edge of cracking the code we were using, they stole a copy of our bylaws, sent the code to Meg, and she knew how to decipher it. That’s how we’ve always communicated with them. The code worked. Kept our people safe while we tried to keep the Riot calm.”
“Eventually,” Dad adds, picking up the thread, “when it was clear we weren’t handing Eli over to them, they sent the list.”
Cyrus slides a piece of paper in front of me and I recognize my father’s handwriting. Dad must have been the one to translate the Riot’s message. The name at the top is my mother’s. The next Olivia’s, and it goes down the line of the wives of club members. Anger ripples through me. “They were willing to go after women?”
Eli’s seat creaks when he adjusts. His legs are out straight, his arms crossed over his chest, and it’s one of the rare times he won’t make eye contact. “When holy hell broke out over Emily and her mom before I went to prison, the Riot went after club members. After I lost custody of Emily when I went to prison, they decided to make it personal.”
My hand slams on the table. “Why the fuck didn’t you take the warning shot seriously? I saw the message. Breanna broke it. They warned you this was coming.”
He lifts his dark eyes and the regret swimming in them smacks me in the stomach. “Both codes came together and we got it five minutes before your mother called. We didn’t even have it completely deciphered before your mother was being tailed out of the parking lot.”
“Why did they leave the code with Mom? She wasn’t Terror.”
The room falls silent and all eyes are on Dad. Finally, he speaks. “They wanted me to find it. Guess they figured she’d call, figured I would find it in her car if they abducted her, or if they did mean for her to go over the bridge, I guess they thought I’d find it in the aftermath. The Riot wanted me to know that I couldn’t save the woman I loved from them. They wanted to show that they were in control, that they held the power.”
“Razor,” Eli says, “I would have handed myself over on a damned platter for your mother, but I was never given the chance. Your mother was the warning shot.”
My body sways as if I’ve been sucked into an undertow. My mother never had a chance. She never had a fucking chance and she drove away from help to save me. My lips turn down and it’s hard as hell to ignore the raw ache in my throat. “Was she forced off or did she go over to save herself?”
Dad and Eli shrug their shoulders to show that they’re both haunted by the unknown.
“She died on impact,” Eli says. “Your dad stayed at the clubhouse talking with her while the rest of us tore off to try to catch up. She told your dad that they were coming up beside her. Our best guess is that they tried to cut her off at the bridge to force her out of the car and that’s when she went over. Maybe she lost control of the car. Maybe she saw that as her best chance at life. I’m sorry, but we don’t know.”
Fear. My mother’s last emotion was fear. My fingers tunnel in my hair and I pull, hoping the physical pain can somehow wipe this internal agony away. “Why not tell me? Why lie to me about how she died?”
“You were ten,” Dad says like he’s experiencing the same pain. “When I walked in Olivia’s house with your mother’s blood on my hands, I went down the hallway and found you on that bed with your friends and with your arm slung over that dog. You looked peaceful. I couldn’t wake you and look you in the eye and tell you that I fucking failed you. That your mother died because some asshole club ran her off the road and I failed to protect her.”