All Chapters of Her Reckoning: Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

The lot still echoed with cheers when Emily felt her knees go weak.It had spilled out of her before she could stop it, the words torn from her throat like a confession. Six weeks of silence, of trembling hands and sleepless nights, broken wide open in front of the entire club.I’m pregnant.Now it wasn’t a secret.It was out there, heavy and alive, staring back at her in every pair of eyes.She’d thought the world would split in two. That Rhett would rage, that the Vipers would judge, that her place here would crumble to ash.But none of that happened.Instead, Rhett had fallen to his knees.He had touched her belly with shaking hands like it was holy.And then the Vipers cheered.________________Emily stood trembling in his arms, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t control. Relief flooded her veins, sharp and overwhelming, until she thought she might collapse under the weight of it.“You’re not alone,” he’d told her.Not alone.The words echoed, wrapping around her tighter than

The room smelled of blood and smoke.Emily sat at the long wooden table in the main hall, her hands clenched so tightly her nails cut into her palms. Rhett was beside her, steady and unyielding, his hand heavy on her knee. But tonight she wasn’t alone in more ways than that. Sierra stood just behind her shoulder, arms crossed, sharp chin lifted, her presence like a shield made of fire. Kayla was on her other side, quiet and solid, one gentle hand resting on Emily’s shoulder, steady as stone.The Vipers filled the room — Grim at the head, Tank and Hawk leaning forward with dark eyes, Cherry braced in the doorway, smoke curling from her cigarette. And Ghost, pale and still, standing at the far end of the table, his shadow stretching long in the swing of the overhead bulb.Silence pressed in, thick enough to choke. No one spoke. They were waiting for Ghost.His pale eyes swept the table, then landed on Emily. For the first time, she saw the cracks — not weakness, but grief carved deep, t

The night air was sharp, heavy with the smell of oil and dust.Ghost stood alone in the empty yard of an old truck stop, the neon sign long dead, the asphalt cracked with weeds. His hand rested on the butt of his pistol, his pale eyes fixed on the dark stretch of road. He’d chosen this ground. Away from the clubhouse. Away from Emily.This wasn’t a war for the Vipers. This was his reckoning.The rumble of engines came slow, deliberate, crawling closer until headlights washed across him. A blacked-out SUV rolled to a stop, doors opening with quiet precision. And then he stepped out.Marcus Kane.Time hadn’t softened him. If anything, it had carved him sharper, leaner, meaner. His smile cut wide when he saw Ghost, the glint of a knife at his hip. “Seventeen years, old man. Thought you’d died with her.”Ghost’s jaw tightened, his voice low, steady. “You should’ve made sure.”Kane’s laugh was soft, mocking. He stepped closer, slow and sure. Ghost drew his pistol, aiming steady at his ches