Roman's P.O.V.

The easiest thing would have been to leave. Different town. Different club chapter. Different state. Everybody would understand. That was the problem. I had spent ten years choosing distance when truth got expensive. So I stayed. Not near Sienna. She had moved ou

Sienna's P.O.V.

My old apartment smelled like dust and coffee. Mostly dust. The coffee was Zane's fault. He stood in the doorway holding two cups and one empty cardboard box.

"Asked first," he said.

I looked at the coffee.

"What is it?"

"Black. One sugar."

I took it.

Maddox's P.O.V.

Apologizing in private was easier. That was how I knew private wasn't enough. I had hurt Sienna in hallways. At bonfires. In the clubhouse. Around people who remembered jokes longer than facts. So I called the meeting myself. Not church. Open floor. Old membe