LOGIN~ Cole ~ It starts with sound. Not clear. Just…noise. Like something trying to reach me from underwater. Muffled. Distant. Persistent. I don’t know how long it’s been there. Or how long I’ve been here. Time doesn’t feel like time. It feels like nothing. Like everything exists in one long stretch of… blank. But the sound— It keeps coming back. A rhythm. Slow. Steady. Annoying. I try to focus on it. That’s when I realise— I’m thinking. The realisation is slow. Heavy. Like dragging something through thick water. But it’s there. A thought. Then another. Incomplete. But mine. Something shifts. Not outside. Inside. Like something that was switched off is trying to turn back on, piece by piece. It doesn’t feel right. Like parts of me are waking up at different speeds. I try to move. Nothing happens. No response. No control. Just… effort going nowhere. That should bother me. It doesn’t. Not fully. Everyt
~ Mara ~ Rhea doesn’t knock. She walks in like she belongs here. Like she always has. Like she always will. The door clicks softly behind her, and for a second, I don’t turn. I already know it’s her. There’s a certain kind of presence you recognise without needing to look. Steady. Grounded. Real. “You look terrible,” she says. No softness. No sugarcoating the honest truth. I let out a quiet breath, eyes still on Cole. “Good morning to you too.” Her footsteps come closer, slow and measured, until she’s standing just beside me. I feel her looking at him. Taking it in. Not reacting the way most people do. Not flinching. Not pitying. Just… seeing. “That’s him?” she asks quietly. I nod once. “That’s him,” I repeated dry There’s a pause. A long one. Then— “Yeah,” she murmurs. “That makes sense he’s always getting into trouble .” I almost smile. Almost. Because that’s exactly the kind of thing she would say. Not emotional.
~Jax ~ The first problem shows up as numbers. Not bullets. Not threats. Just numbers sitting on a screen, looking harmless until you actually understand what they mean. I stare at them longer than I should. Revenue down. Late payments stacking. Two shipments delayed with no clear explanation. One missing entirely. Missing doesn’t happen. Delayed, maybe. Intercepted by the cops, sometimes. But missing? That’s a message. I lean back in the chair, dragging a hand slowly over my face. “Say it,” I mutter to myself. “Go on. Say it.” Because I already know what it means. The smugglers, our rivals and the men they smell weakness. Cole’s absence isn’t public. Not officially. But people like us don’t need announcements. They read patterns. Silence where there used to be control. Delays where there used to be precision. They notice. They always notice. A knock hits the door. Short. Sharp. “Yeah.” Finn steps in, closing it behind him
~ Mara ~ It happens in the bathroom. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone. Of course it doesn’t. Because I’ve gotten really good at holding it together when someone is watching. It’s when no one is there— That’s when things slip. I’m standing over the sink, staring at my reflection like I don’t fully recognise the person looking back at me. My hair is pulled back, but not neatly. There are dark circles under my eyes that no amount of water or pretending fixes. My lips are dry. My face… tired. Not just sleepy. Drained. Like something inside me has been running too long without stopping. I grip the edge of the sink, leaning forward slightly. “Pull it together,” I mutter under my breath. Because I have to. There’s no version of this where I fall apart and things just… pause. Life doesn’t do that. It keeps moving. Lily still wakes up every morning. Still needs breakfast. Still asks questions I don’t always have the energy to answer.
~ Mara ~ Apparently, I abandon my child. That’s what it sounds like when people don’t know the full picture. That’s what it looks like from the outside. A woman sitting beside a hospital bed for hours, days… losing track of time while her daughter isn’t physically right in front of her. I heard it this morning. Not directly. Not brave enough for that. Two nurses talking just outside the door, voices low but not low enough. “She’s been here every day.” “What about her kid?” A pause. A shrug I couldn’t see but felt anyway. “Some people just… shut down.” I didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just sat here like I didn’t hear a single word. Because explaining myself would take too much energy. And I don’t have any left to spare. Lily is not abandoned. She’s with Rhea. Picked up from the house every day. Fed. Summer break Homework done. Hair brushed, even if Rhea complains about how much Lily asks about Cole and what's to come with me. I call every night
~ Mara ~ I almost miss it. That’s the worst part. After everything… I almost don’t see it. Jax informed me that he and the doctors witnessed Cole's hand twitch so I decided to stay by his side till I see it for myself. I’m sitting beside him, head leaning back against the chair, exhaustion pulling at every part of me. I don’t even remember closing my eyes, just that for a second, the weight of everything got too heavy to hold up. Then— Something shifts. My eyes open slowly, disoriented for half a second before reality crashes back in. Hospital. Cole. Everything. I turn my head toward him automatically. And freeze. His hand. My breath catches. It’s resting where I left it, fingers slightly curled against the sheet. Except— They move. Just barely. A twitch. So small it could be nothing. So small I almost convince myself it is nothing. But then it happens again. Clearer this time. My heart slams against my ribs so hard it actually hurts
You’re shaking," he observes, his voice a low, vibrating against my jaw. "I'm not," I lie, my breath hitching as his fingers catch the hem of my shirt. Liar," he murmurs. He doesn't pull the fabric away yet. Instead, he rests his palm flat against my stomach, his skin searingly hot agains
Mara The first call from his lawyer comes at 9:03 a.m. I answer before it rings twice. “Ms Collins, we’d like to discuss your… living situation.” Living situation. That’s what they’re calling it. Not love. Not support. Not safety. I grip the edge of the table. “My daughter liv
Cole I didn’t sleep much that night Not really. Every sound in that house wired straight into my spine. Floorboards shifting. Her breathing down the hall. The kid turning over in bed. I lay there staring at the ceiling knowing this was a line I couldn’t uncross. Sleeping on her cou
Cole “Say it again.” Jax didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The entire club garage went quiet anyway. Engines idled. Tools clanked once, then stopped. Even the new prospects froze like they could feel tension bleeding into the room. I leaned back against my bike and didn’t blink







