Mature Content 17+ || Savage Wolves MC Book Two
In the wake of tragedy, Callie never fails at staying positive. But, after having her brother and the rest of the club nearly taken from her, she's a little more cautious, albeit still upbeat.
So caut...
*As I've said before, there's a method to my madness and everything happens to set forth in motion other events. Important Note: Couples fight. Couples do and say stupid things. Things that hurt. Things that should never be said. Just because this is a book, doesn't mean we're living in a fantasy world where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens to leading characters. Letha and Blade are still very much in love. This chapter may be a test in their relationship, but it in no way defines who they are or who they're becoming. There are many stages in a relationship and many ups and downs, no matter how happy. They're each other's soulmates, but they're not without problems. I don't want people reading this chapter and getting mad because it seems all Letha and Blade have done in this book is fight. Just remember, this book isn't about them so I'm not writing about all the good that is still going on in their life. You're just seeing some of the bad because it's important to THIS STORY. They still love each other. They always will. I hope that clears things up.*
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•Blade•
Callie: Don't be mad.
Callie: Gray and I eloped. We're leaving for our honeymoon now.
Callie: Please give us space. We just want to be together.
Callie: Alone, Blade.
Callie: Don't come after us, we're fine. I love you and I'll see you soon, big bro.
A simple smiling face emoji appears as Callie's last text and I rage, throwing my phone against the wall, letting the broken piece of glass and metal fall to the floor.
Letha screams, nearly flipping the eggs right out of the pan she's using to make breakfast.
Looking over to her, I see her place her hand over her chest, breathing deeply.
"What in the fuck has gotten into you this morning?" She demands, still trying to calm her startled nerves from my outburst.
I can't focus enough to respond.
Slipping into my pair of jeans that didn't quite make it to the bedroom last night, I grab my cut and tear out of our house and onto my bike, flying out of the driveway and straight to the clubhouse.
It's early - Callie sent the texts in the middle of the night after I'd tossed my phone onto the couch and proceeded to become distracted with my blonde goddess in our bedroom.
Morning light blinds me over the horizon as I drive down the road, no helmet or glasses to protect me.
When I get to the clubhouse, I storm into the building, knocking over a prospect carrying a bucket of dirty water and sending it sprawling across the ground, dirtying the freshly cleaned floor.
