EVERESTS POV:

"How are you holding up, Greg?" Ghost asks, settling into the chair beside Avery's grandfather. It's just the two of us here now, and we've come to the hospital hoping to get some answers about what Logan said that led to this.

"Oh dear... I—I'm going to head down to the cafeteria and get us something to eat," Nana says softly, giving Greg's hand a gentle squeeze and offering him a reassuring smile.

Greg mumbles his agreement, though his shoulders stiffen the moment she leaves the room. I can feel the tension thickening in the air. Greg has never been a fan of bikers or the club, and I can't blame him. But after years of checking in on their family, we've built an unspoken understanding—though that doesn't mean he likes having us around.

"I'm being forced out of my own damn home," he mutters bitterly, trying to shift in the uncomfortable hospital bed. "A home that's been in my family for generations... all because you goddamn bikers don't know how to leave us the hell alone." His voice is laced with frustration, and I can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air.

I lean against the edge of the hospital bed, keeping my posture relaxed but attentive, while Ghost clears his throat. "We're not here to stir up more trouble, Greg," he says, his voice calm but firm. "We're trying to protect Avery and your family. But we need to know what Logan said to you... whatever it was, it was enough to land you in this hospital."

Greg scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression hardening. "You bikers have done nothing but bring trouble to my family," he spits, his eyes narrowing. "All my girls... they all got tangled up in that life. Look where it got my Cathey... and Teagan."

His gaze lingers on Ghost when he mentions Teagan, and I can feel the weight of unspoken history between them. I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. I'm not about to stand here all damn night while Greg unloads his anger on us.

"We're not the enemy here, Greg," I say, my voice low but steady. "I'm not walking away from Avery. And I'm sure as hell not letting Logan or anyone else take her away from the people who love her."

Greg's jaw clenches, but he doesn't say anything. I can see the war in his eyes—the part of him that wants to protect his family battling against the deep-rooted distrust he has for the club.

But I don't care how long it takes. I'll stand here all damn night if I have to, because I'm not leaving until I get the answers we need to keep Avery safe.

I could see the muscle twitching in his cheek. His eyes, darkened with anger and grief, locked onto Ghost's as we stood in the sterile hospital room. The silence between us was heavy—an unspoken pact of protection for Avery that neither of us could break.

"You think I don't know?" Greg finally growled, his voice low and gravelly with years of bitterness. "Ever since Cathey was murdered, I've been fighting to keep this family together. I lost her to that damned life—and to my own mistakes." His gaze flickered toward me, and for a heartbeat, I saw raw pain beneath his hardened exterior. "And now it's dragging Avery into the same mess."

"Greg..." Ghost's tone softened, yet Greg wouldn't relent.

"No," he snapped, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't care how much you claim to care about her. I've seen the destruction that follows when you get tangled up in this life. I'm not about to watch my granddaughter suffer the same fate."

I stepped closer, my voice steady yet resolute. "I'm not letting that happen, Greg. I love Avery, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if it means facing every damn consequence."

Greg's eyes narrowed as he fixed his glare on me. "Big words, son. But talk is cheap if you can't back it up."

"I'm not just talking," I replied, clenching my jaw. "I'm here to protect her."

After a long, tense pause, Ghost broke the silence. "Greg, what did Logan say to you?"

Greg's face darkened further as his shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his hands fidgeting with the hospital blanket. "He... he knows about the debt." His voice wavered with shame. "Years ago, I was drowning in gambling debts. I lost more than I could ever afford—money that I owed to the wrong people. I did what I had to in a desperate bid to keep our family afloat, but I lost control."

A bitter laugh escaped Ghost, and I felt my stomach twist. "Damn it," I muttered, the blood draining from my face.

"He said," Greg's voice broke further as he swallowed hard, "that he's in the same damn boat—owes money to the wrong people—and that the only way out for him is Avery. If he gets her, he claims he can fix everything."

"I ain't in debt no more, but if Birde ever found out that we don't own the house, she would be the one in this bed." Seeing Greg so vulnerable was rare. "You bikers... Nanny could have had that life, but she chose me and my girls. The McGuire girls—talk of the town—and now our reputation is how it's known." He croaks out and the heart monitor starts to beat louder.

I sat in the stiff hospital chair, watching Greg finally get some rest after the long night. The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed in the room, but my mind was miles away. Birde. The house. The weight of everything tied to our name. It was all too damn much.

Ghost stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the parking lot like he was expecting trouble to roll up any second. He was always ready.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me back to the present. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. One new message.

Tequila: SOS A.

My stomach dropped. Short. Urgent. Bad.

"Shit," I muttered, locking the phone.

"What?" Ghost asked, his eyes on me now.

"Tequila. Something's wrong."

That was all he needed to hear. Ghost didn't ask questions. He just moved, already heading for the door.

I stood up, slipping the phone into my back pocket. "Let's go."

We left the hospital without another word, the quiet hum of the machines fading behind us. Whatever was waiting out there was worse. I could feel it—and so could Ghost.

I stepped inside the club, and both Bonnie and Tequila immediately pointed toward the hallway. Without a word, I moved toward it, my steps heavy, my mind already racing.

The second I opened the door to my bedroom, my heart dropped. It was completely empty. Panic crept up my spine. I quickly turned and made my way toward Ghost's room, hoping for some kind of answer.

I flung the door open and froze.

Teagan stood there, her face a mixture of shock and distress. My eyes locked onto her, but the real punch came when I looked past her.

Avery was curled up on the floor, her body trembling, her head tucked between her knees. Silent sobs seemed to shake her entire frame, and my chest tightened at the sight.

"Avery?" My voice cracks as I step into the room, my gaze immediately locking onto her.

I don't have to say anything—she doesn't need to speak for me to see the tears on her face, the way her body is trembling. Every inch of me screams to be there for her, to fix whatever's wrong.

I step forward quickly, wrapping my arms around her, and she leans into me, burying her face against my chest.

"I'm here," I murmur, my voice rough. "I'm not going anywhere."

••••••••••••••••••••••••

AVERYS POV:

The days blurred together, and I couldn't tell where one ended and the next began. Time was something I couldn't grasp, something I didn't want to grasp. All I could do was lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body heavy like it was made of stone. I didn't have the energy to move, to fight against the fog that clouded my mind. It was like I was stuck in a place where everything and everyone felt distant, like I was trapped in some in-between space, neither here nor gone.

I didn't know how long I had been like this. It could've been hours, days, weeks. I didn't care enough to check. The world outside my room kept moving, but I couldn't bring myself to join it. Every part of me felt empty, like something had been drained, and all I could do was exist in the silence, trapped in the weight of my own thoughts.

I could hear faint noises outside my door—footsteps, voices, the hum of life continuing on without me. But I didn't feel like I belonged out there anymore. The more I stayed in bed, the more disconnected I became from everything. The more I tried to close my eyes and escape, the deeper I sank into this numbness.

I just wanted it to stop. All of it. I wanted the heaviness to go away, the ache in my chest to disappear. But nothing changed. The days passed. And I just stayed still.

I hadn't heard from Aunt Teagan since that night. The night everything seemed to shatter even more than it already had.

I couldn't tell how much time had passed since I'd gotten home, but I knew one thing for sure: I hadn't moved from this bed. It was like I had become part of the sheets, my body sinking deeper into the mattress each day.

Everest had tried—God, he had tried. He would come in, sit by me, talking to me like maybe something inside me would wake up, like I would suddenly respond, like I could pull myself out of this. I heard his voice, soft and careful at first, then more frustrated as the days went on. But the truth was, I couldn't find it in me to care, to speak. I felt like I was in a void, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't reach me.

Eventually, he stopped coming in. I could feel the distance growing between us, the silence in the space where his words used to be. It wasn't that I wanted him to stop—part of me wanted him to stay, but I couldn't find the strength to meet him halfway. I was too far gone, and the guilt of not being able to pull myself together ate away at me.

Everest had sat me down after that night, his voice steady but filled with a quiet weight. He tried to explain what had been going on, what I hadn't understood before. My grandfather's debts, how they had been buried under the weight of secrets for years.

I had no idea. Not a single clue.

All those years, I had believed the house was ours, that everything was stable, that we had something to hold on to. But the truth was so different. My grandfather had buried the reality of it all so deep, and I was too young—or maybe too naïve—to see the cracks in the foundation.

When Everest explained it, I just stared at him, my mind struggling to catch up with the words. Debt? My grandfather? I couldn't process it. He had always seemed so sure of himself, so confident that everything was in its place. He'd always made it look like we were fine, like there was nothing to worry about.

I learned the truth—and it hit me harder than I could have imagined. Everest tried to explain it to me, but it still didn't fully make sense. He told me that the situation with Logan wasn't really the reason for everything—he said it was just an excuse, a cover for my grandfather's real plan. He felt that his reputation, his last name, had been tainted by my aunt, my mom, and now by me. I couldn't believe it at first, but when he kept talking, I started to see where he was coming from. My grandfather had always cared so much about how people saw him, about keeping up appearances. But now, with everything that had happened, he saw no way out, no way to fix it.

When Aunt Teagan decided she was leaving, saying she was "hightailing it" out of town and taking the family with her, my grandfather saw it as the perfect opportunity. They didn't even own the house, so it wasn't like they had anything to lose. He could escape all the mess, all the debt, and just start over. But I couldn't help but think about my grandmother. I could only imagine how confused she must have been, how much this must have torn her up inside. Nana is literally the sweetest person I know. She would give someone the shirt off her back if they needed it, without hesitation. And now she was being uprooted from her home, from everything she knew. It didn't seem fair to her.

One thing I've always noticed about my Nana is how much she and my mom are alike. They both have this calming nature, always so patient and kind. But of course, my mom had her fiery side, her "spicy" edge that could come out when she needed it. And then there's Aunt Teagan, who, in her own way, nothing like them—she had all spice and no sugar, only much worse. It was like everything had spiraled out of control, and now it was just too much for me to fully comprehend. The layers of lies, the truth finally surfacing, the pain of knowing that none of us were really in control of anything—it was all overwhelming.

Brooke had tried to visit a couple of times, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to her. She was trying to help, trying to be there for me, but I just couldn't respond. The guilt of seeing the concern in her eyes, knowing I was shutting her out, made everything worse. She deserved so much more than the silence I gave her. But I couldn't face anyone—not even the people who cared the most. It was easier to shut them out, to stay hidden, because the moment I opened up, I might fall apart completely. And I wasn't sure I could survive that.

The world outside felt so far away, and I was stuck here in this dark corner of my own mind, unable to find my way back.

I heard a soft knock at the door. It was gentle, almost tentative, and I froze for a moment, not knowing if I should even acknowledge it. Before I could decide, the door creaked open, and I looked up just enough to meet the gaze of my Nana. Her kind eyes softened when she saw me, but for a split second, I made brief eye contact with Everest. He was standing behind her, his face unreadable, but when our eyes met, he gave me a small, knowing look. It wasn't one of pity or frustration—it was more like an acknowledgment, a quiet understanding. Then, he stepped back, gently closing the door behind Nana as she walked into the room.

Nana's presence filled the space, warm and comforting. She took a slow step forward and sat down beside me on the bed. I didn't speak at first, not sure of what to say or how to start, but I felt the weight of her gaze as she studied me quietly.

"Nana?" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath as I looked up at her. She met my gaze with a soft, sweet smile, but I couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired—no, more than tired. She looked drained, like she'd been carrying a weight I hadn't fully understood. It struck me how much this was affecting her too, and it made me feel even smaller for how I had been shutting everyone out.

Bonnie had been kind enough to keep me updated on my grandfather's situation, so I didn't have to keep reaching out to my aunt Teagan, something I had refused to do. I couldn't bring myself to talk to her—not after everything. After everything with my grandfather, the debt, the house, and the way everything seemed to be falling apart. I couldn't find the words, and I didn't know if I even wanted to. So, I let Bonnie take the lead, giving me the bits of information I needed, enough to keep me from feeling completely lost, but still distant enough to keep me from facing my aunt.

Nana's gaze softened, like she could sense the weight of everything I wasn't saying. She gently placed her hand on mine, and I felt the warmth and reassurance in her touch. "I refuse to leave without saying goodbye to you, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft and steady. "I know I've always been your Nana, but you've always been one of my little girls. You remind me so much of my Cathy, and that makes every day worth living." Her voice trembled slightly as she moved a piece of hair out of my face, her fingers brushing lightly against my skin.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes instantly, the emotions threatening to spill over. I cleared my throat, trying to hold them back as I sat up a little on the pillows. "When are you going?" I asked, my voice shaky.

She gave me a small, bittersweet smile, her eyes filled with tenderness. "We have everything pretty much cleared out of the house," she explained. "I did give Everest a box of some things of your mother's, and some other things that I thought you might want to have." She paused for a moment, her gaze faraway as she seemed to reflect on the things she had given up, the pieces of the past she had let go of.

"Just because bad things keep happening around you does not mean that you deserve it. None of this is your fault," Nana reassured me, her voice calm but filled with conviction. "This is just God testing you—testing your will and resilience to make you a stronger person."

Her words settled over me like a gentle blanket, though the weight of everything still felt heavy. I could feel the tears slipping down my face before I could stop them, watching as one fell into my lap. I tried to hold it in, tried not to burst into tears, but the crack in my composure was too wide. It was too hard to carry everything alone.

"I love you, Nana. I'm really going to miss you..." I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

I leaned over and hugged her tightly, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around me, her embrace warm and steady, grounding me in the moment. It was a reminder of the love and safety I had known my whole life, even when everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

"Oh, honey," she chuckled softly, "Of you think I'm going to spend the rest of my years in Texas, you absolutely have that wrong."

I couldn't help but laugh a little, wiping the tears from my face. The sound of her giggle, her warmth, it felt like a small spark of light in the darkness that had enveloped me for so long. For the first time in what felt like ages, I felt a flicker of happiness. It wasn't much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls I'd built around myself.

I smiled, even if it was just a little, and for the first time in a while.

After some time, Nana had finally left, and the warmth of her presence faded with her. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I felt it—an emptiness that settled deep in my chest, pulling me right back into the darkness I had barely managed to crawl out of while she was here. I had tried so hard to hold on to that flicker of hope she had given me, but it was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

I heard everything she said, her words replaying in my mind over and over. But no matter how hard I tried to believe them, my thoughts kept circling back to the same question, the one that refused to let me go.

What am I doing wrong?

Why is all of this happening to me?

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as if that could hold me together. My mind wouldn't stop. It was like I was stuck in an endless loop, reliving every bad moment, every loss, every time life had knocked me down. I kept trying to find a reason, a cause—something that would explain why everything felt so impossible. But no matter how many times I searched for an answer, I came up empty.

Maybe if I could just figure it out, I could fix it. Maybe I could make everything stop falling apart. But I couldn't, and that was the hardest part. The weight of it all was suffocating, and the more I tried to make sense of it, the more lost I felt.

The ache in my chest grew heavier, and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could block out the thoughts, the pain, the questions that wouldn't leave me alone. But they were still there, whispering in the back of my mind, reminding me of everything I had lost and everything I couldn't fix.

Eventually, the weight became too much, and I sank deeper into the bed, pulling the blankets up as if they could shield me from the world. My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn't stop. Sleep wouldn't come, and even if it did, I knew it wouldn't bring any peace.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

But even as I thought it, I wasn't sure I believed it. And as I stared at the ceiling, my heart heavy and my mind too tired to fight anymore, I let the darkness settle in again, hoping—just maybe—that tomorrow would hurt a little less.