I’m void of any emotion. Nothing exists inside me. I feel no pain, no fear, no anger . . . nothing. It’s like I’m just here being a waste of space and sucking up air that could be better used by anybody other than me.
Yesterday, after the last shovel of dirt was placed on her grave, I wondered how I would move on. Saylor once told me that I was her reason and now that she had me, she wasn’t needed in this life anymore. So, if I was her purpose and she was mine, then why in the hell was I still here?
I can’t keep the saying the good die young from invading my thoughts. If that’s the case, I’ll live forever. But what is worse? Living a life here on earth without her, or living an eternity in hell without her? It didn’t matter. I knew my fate, and it was well deserved.
—
“We delivered Cyrus’s daughter back to him this morning,” Shady tells me Monday afternoon.
We’re sitting on the couch—the last place I held Saylor in my arms. Shady hasn’t let me out of his sight since the funeral. I know he is worried about me, but I couldn’t offer him any reassurance that I’m okay. Because I’m not.
“That’s good,” I mumble, my thumbs rubbing over the leather-bound diary that was Saylor’s most prized possession.
“Dirk . . .” Shady runs his hand through his hair. I know what’s coming, and somehow I find the strength to help ease my brother’s turmoil.
“I know, Shady. I know.” My impending doom was quickly approaching. And I’d never welcomed death more than now. I couldn’t feel like this any longer. Maybe there wasn’t an afterlife for people like me. Maybe hell was just a myth. Could I be that lucky?
Standing, I cut my eyes to him. “Follow me.” I lead him down the hall into Black’s old room, which now belonged to Shady. Saylor had made it a point to tell him that this house was his home, too. After I’d told her he’d never had a place of his own or even his own bedroom, she’d insisted that we designated this room solely to him.
I open the safe in the closet, making sure he knows what the code is. I pull out a manila envelope, and hold it out to him. “Everything I own belongs to you. I had Cleft draw up the paperwork.”
Immediately, Shady shakes his head. “Dirk, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can hold them off. I’ll help you leave. Hell, I’ll fuckin’ go with you.”
Brotherhood.
My relationship with Shady was the definition of it.
I meet his eyes that are full of sorrow and regret. I feel something twist in my chest. I thought my heart died with Saylor, but apparently a piece of it still remained. And it beat for Shady.
“If there is a man in this world who will understand what I’m about to say, that man is you.” Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I narrow my eyes on him. “I’ve never felt peace. She was the closest thing I ever had to it. But even with her, my mind raced with thoughts of when I would lose her, or how I could be a better man for my club. I don’t want to be here anymore, Shady. There’s nothing left for me.”
Tightening my hold, I place my forehead against his and do the one thing I’ve never done in my life. I beg. “Please, Shady. Just let me go.”
Without warning, he pulls me in. I welcome his embrace and tell him everything in this one moment that I’ve never said out loud. I want to remain silent. I want to hold tight to my dignity. But there is no pride where he is concerned—not anymore. Not after everything he’s done for me. And if Saylor taught me anything, it was that sometimes words were needed.
“You’re the greatest brother I’ve ever had,” I say, my arms wrapped around him. “You’re the only one I’ve ever fully trusted. My love for you goes beyond the patch, Shady. You’re not just my brother. You’re my best fucking friend.”
My heart is shattered. Everything I’ve ever held dear I’m saying good-bye to. I can’t do it anymore. I’m mentally exhausted. I’m ready to leave. I’m ready to meet my fate. I’m ready to die.
Pulling away from him, I shove the envelope against his chest, forcing him to take it. In my other hand I hold the most precious thing to me. Only because it was the most precious thing to my love. I hand Shady Saylor’s diary. “She loved you. She’d want you to have this.”
He looks down at the diary, his eyes transfixed on the book of Saylor’s life. Before he has a chance to say anything, I walk out of the room. I don’t give a second glance to anything in the house. There is no need for me to look—I have all the good memories already memorized.
On my bike outside, I sit in the darkness. My eyes roam over the dirty patches on my vest. The years of blood, sweat, and tears in my threads blaze through my mind as the memories come flooding back. Everything I’ve done wrong. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. All the lives I’ve taken. They’re all a constant reminder of my life as Sinner’s Creed.
As I pull out of my driveway for the last time, I don’t feel any regret. I don’t wonder what my life might have been. I am who I am. I’ll die as the same man. Sinner’s Creed was my home, my life, and my legacy. This world could take everything it wanted to from me. But it couldn’t take this. My Saylor was gone, but my club still thrived.