ASHLEY’S POV
The bikers form a pathway and Adams ushers me in.
The air is thick and suffocating with tension.
I swallow hard, eyes fixed on the ground, heart hammering in my chest.
I can feel their hot stares on me no matter how hard I try to ignore them.
All of them are Sons of Chaos—none of them like me.
“We have rules, Rip.
You can’t just wake up and decide to give some little brat who wasn’t introduced to the church full old-lady rights!” Matt sneers at Ripper.
I stand frozen, Adams steadying me from behind as the men argue.
Ripper’s jaw tightens.
“She’s his widow.
The papers are legal.
She has every right—”
”Legal doesn’t mean shit here,” Matt cuts him off, voice sharp.
“You know that.
We’re not some corporate board.
We’re a brotherhood.
Brotherhood has rules.”
”Introduce the damn old lady to the fucking church and we’ll recognize her.
Or even still—announce it.
Who gives a damn about some written document?” another biker barks.
“Sons of Chaos have rules, Matt,” Ripper replies, voice steady but cold.
“Rules state that the president’s old lady gets honoured at his funeral.”
”She’s not his old lady!” Matt’s face flushes, he leans forward.
“We do not accept that little murderer as our old lady!”
A ripple of murmurs runs through the crowd and my stomach twists.
I shouldn’t be here.
Actually, I don’t want to be here.
Ripper should stop trying to fight his brothers for me.
I don’t give a shit if I throw flowers down on Warrick.
I don’t even know him—so why should I care?
I bite the inside of my bottom lip to keep from snapping.
Adams has warned me not to speak or react while the funeral is ongoing—”Rip’ll handle it.”
But with every name they throw at me… murderer, whore, brat, bitch… the rule grows harder to obey.
“She’s just some gold digger who wants—”
“Watch your mouth.”
”Or what, Rip?”
”Or what?”
”You’re going to fight the brotherhood over some little whore?” Matt lets out a bitter laugh.
“She doesn’t belong here.
Stop trying to force her.
She’ll never be his old lady.
We won’t respect her.”
”I said enough.” Ripper steps forward, putting himself between Matt and the rest.
“That’s enough.
My word here is final since the prez is gone.”
”If you disrespect me, then you’ve disrespected the president,” he adds.
Matt glares at him, the tension thickens until no one moves or speaks.
Then Matt hisses and stalks out, muttering curses.
A few follow, and some stay.
I stand frozen, hands trembling at my sides, throat tight.
Adams leans close to my ear.
“Hold your head up, Ash.
Old ladies don’t break.”
I lift my gaze and a dark smirk curls my lips.
Ripper walks over, holding out the basket of petals.
I hesitate before taking it, my hand brushing his for a second and our eyes meet.
“Say your prayer,” Ripper says.
“Send him off right, Mrs.
Harrington.”
I nod.
Then I turn toward the grave and let the petals fall, muttering nothing.
I move my lips so everyone thinks I’ve said a prayer.
Afterward, Adams ushers me out while some bikers drift away and Ripper remains by the grave.
I return to the balcony where Nonna has set a chair for me.
She says we’ll stay until they cover the grave and write his name on it.
Each one that walks by glares with thinly veiled disdain, even if it is the first time they’ve seen me.
I guess they are old ladies—women married to bikers.
Eight pass in all, two shoot me overt contempt; three hiss and make it clear they are meant for me; the other three ignore my greeting, scoffing as they walk away.
I tap my lap, hoping Nonna or Adams will return soon.
I am about to lose my mind.
I didn’t ask for this life,why’s everyone hostile?
I didn’t kill their president, did I?
Then another old lady comes out.
I narrow my eyes, bracing for another glare.
She slows as she approaches and, unexpectedly, stops in front of me.
“Sorry for your loss… Mrs.
Harrington,” she says.
I blink and turn toward her.
She looks younger than the other women but older than me, poised on high heels that emphasize her long frame and pretty face.
When our eyes meet, her mouth tips into a polite smile.
“I’m Riley—Blaze’s old lady.”
I blink, I don’t immediately recognize Blaze’s name.
“Blaze is the secretary of the Sons of Chaos,” she adds quickly.
I nod.
“I’m Ashley.
You can call me Ash.”
”Nice to meet you, Riley,” I say.
“Thank you.
It’s my pleasure.
Sorry again for your loss.
I’ll have to run,see you tomorrow at the club.”
Before I can reply, she’s already gone.
I exhale and lean back into my chair.
Then I hear a voice—soft, familiar.
“Ash—baby.”
I turn.
My face goes cold at the sight of my parents standing side by side, Dad and Mom here together.