Like me, they were simply trying to adjust to this strange new world in any way they could. Though, unlike them I had yet to realize that we were truly free. I had yet to even step out of these clubhouse doors.

“You ready?” Solomon asked Rider.

“Yeah,” Rider said. Solomon and Samson helped him off the bed and toward the door. My heart sank when I saw how much weight he had lost. His denim pants hung loosely off his legs, and the shirt that used to be fitted was now a size too large.

I still found his short hair strange, and his shorter beard too. Yet he still looked breathtaking. Long or short hair, beard or not, he was still so incredibly handsome. Rider slowly walked to the door. I followed behind with Ruth and Stephen.

As we walked down the hallway, I could hear voices coming from the bar. That filled me with nerves. It was no secret that the men hated Rider. Only Smiler had ever come to see him.

This was not going to be easy.

As Rider entered the bar, it fell into silence. Ruth stretched her hand out and gripped mine. I straightened my shoulders as we followed behind . . . and my heart cracked. Each of the brothers were glaring over at Rider. Words were not necessary; we could read their silent expressions—none of them wanted Rider to be alive.

My breath faltered as the men rose from their seats, folding their arms across their chests, sneers on their faces. My heart shattered apart in pride as Rider hid the devastation I knew he would be feeling and forced his legs to move forward.

He shook his arms from Solomon and Samson’s supportive grips and turned to face them. I was right. This reaction from his former club was killing him inside. The pain in his eyes was obvious.

“I can walk myself.” I had to turn my face away as my husband staggered forward under the hateful glares from the men in the bar. I could not bear the sight of seeing him try to hold on to the pride they had so savagely ripped away.

I heard Ruth suck in a pained breath. Rider had stopped in the center of the room to breathe through his pain. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but Ruth shook her head. “Let him do this,” she whispered almost silently. “He needs to do this himself.”

It went against all my instincts, but I knew she was right. My husband raised his head and started walking to the exit. He kept his face straight forward, never once looking back.

Because we could not. If we were to survive, we had to look solely to the future. He was doing just that, stealing more of my love as he did so.

Rider made it to the door and he stepped outside. Solomon and Samson went straight after him. But I could not. Instead I roved my disappointed gaze over all of the men who had so cruelly stood and intimidated him. But they did not care. I could see it in their blank expressions.

I was unsure if Rider would ever fall back into their favor. Too much bad blood had passed between them. I no longer cared. I was beginning to feel that these men were not worthy of his favor. I did not understand how they could stand by and ignore everything he had done to atone for his sins.

He was worth more than these men were giving him. And yet he took it all. I loved that man. I loved him with a breathless, soul-shattering intensity.

Ruth tugged on my arm for me to move forward. Just as I was about to go, I saw my sisters standing to the back of the bar. Their beautiful faces were conflicted, riddled with uncertainty. But I did not blame them. I knew now the sacrifices you made for the man you loved.

I dipped my head at them. Maddie almost brought tears to my eyes when she lifted her hand and cast me a delicate wave.

I loved them, too. I loved them so much that I would let them go. They were no longer children needing my protection. I too had to move on.

“Bella?” Ruth said. I nodded my head and followed her outside, where two vehicles were waiting for us.

Ruth got into one with Solomon and Samson. Stephen sat in the front of the other. I had been surprised to discover that he could drive, having learned before he joined the commune. I climbed in behind my father.

Rider’s head was resting against the headrest, but his sad eyes were on me. Sudden emotion caused my eyes to prick with tears. I reached for his hand. “I am so proud of you, baby. So very, very proud.”

Rider’s eyes closed. He said nothing. And I did not push it. I would not shatter the fading strength that he was clinging to. I shuffled beside him and laid my head on his shoulder.

I held tightly to my husband as we drove past several empty fields. Stephen stopped the truck in front of a small wooden cabin. It had none of the grandeur and luxury of Mae’s or Lilah’s. It did not even look as well-kept as Maddie and Flame’s.

But my excitement grew nonetheless . . . this was to be our home.