'In death we all sing the hymns of nevermore.'

Bella lost it after I finished talking. She sobbed and sobbed, I cried with her too; but I also apologised for upsetting her so much. I remember her face getting slightly angry and she told me not to apologise, that my past was now hers to carry with me. Eventually she had fallen asleep in my arms, and I snuck off in the morning, trying not to wake her. I dozed in and out, but it was one of those pathetic sleeps where you never really commit.

I wait for Stan in our usual coffee shop, he is running late and the urge to go outside and smoke is like a nagging voice in my head. He enters fifteen minutes later and I'm a little caught off guard. His eyes have massive dark circles under them, and his hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in a week. His shirt has some sort of food stain on it and he wears sweatpants, something I didn't really think he would own.

"I said don't dress like a cop, I didn't mean dress like a homeless person," I say as he sits opposite me. He smiles only slightly. "Seriously you look like shit?" I remember him telling me the same thing when we first met.

He rubs his face with force. "Some family stuff going on," he says exhausted.

"Sorry, if you aren't up for this..."

"No, I need the distraction."

I feel instant relief. "Good, because I don't know who else to trust."

"Neither do I," his tone tells me he is talking about more than just my situation.

"I have church."

His eyes seem to at least focus on business now. "Is this your first club meeting?"

"Yes."

"Right," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, putting them on the table in front of me. I open them but inside I find a small black case.

"You can't smoke in here," a waitress says.

"I'm aware," I reply without looking at her.

She huffs before moving on.

"You want me to wear a wire?"

Stan nods. "It's the best of the best, so small it can be hidden anywhere."

"Do I need to have it on me?"

"It needs to at least be something that is going to be around you a lot, if you don't want it on your skin. Inside your shoe, under a collar..."

"Do I look like I own shirts with collars? Is it waterproof?"

"Of course," Stan sips his coffee.

"Will it be detected if they search me?" I place the packet in my pocket.

"I don't know," he says calmly.

"What do you mean you don't know? You are meant to be the one guaranteeing my safety."

"Nothing for you is guaranteed, I don't know what kind of tech they have; all I can tell you is that this is the best of the best. It's the safest option I have for you."

I sigh. "I have to wear this?"

"How else do we gather evidence?"

"Fuck," I rub at my eyes. "If I die-"

"I won't let that happen."

"If I die, just promise me you will look after your niece."

"That, I can guarantee."

A club meeting is mandatory for all members, it's the first time that I will see everyone and I know that Flynn will be there. I decided to hide the wire inside my lighter, something I keep on me but can throw away quickly if I needed.

The club house feels different this time, it feels serious. As I make my way to the front, Boon is standing outside the door. "Phones and weapons in the container," he says.

I look to my right and see the large container already full of phones and knives. A couple guns as well. I reach into my pockets and pull out my phone and the knuckle dusters Ace gave me, before adding them to the rest. Then he steps aside and lets me in. There's no music or girls, just members gathered around talking. I light a smoke, trying to keep my hand steady as I watch the wired lighter. Don't think about it.

"Prospect," I turn around to a smiling older guy with a lean build.

I change the cigarette to my other hand and extend my right to shake. "Tyson," I say.

He shakes my hand with a firm grip. "Mormon," he replies.

I blow out some smoke. "Didn't think this would be a place for religious people."

He smiles. "It's just my nickname, my real name is Dane; but no one calls me that."

"Why do they call you Mormon?" I study his face, trying to figure Dane out, but he seems harmless enough.

"Because I only fuck my old lady."

I shrug, "makes sense." His hazel eyes seem genuine and his dark brown hair has the beginnings of grey strands coming through.

"How are you liking the club so far?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No," he says evenly.

"Prospecting sucks, but I'm sure when I'm fully pledged it will be different;" I decide to answer somewhat honestly. I've found that when I need to lie, if there is some truth to it; it's easier to make it seem more genuine.

He laughs. "Prospecting was the worst," he slaps me on the back. "It definitely gets better, these guys become your family."

I look around the room at all the different men, different sizes and ages, and I couldn't picture it. Not even a little bit, they all reminded me of different versions of my father.

"Welcome!" A loud voice carries through the room and standing at the front is Flynn. Ace is by his side, but my eyes only stay with his father. He looks horrible. His skin looks sick and it almost seems like standing is an effort for him, even though he shouldn't be over forty-five. "So many things to get through, but first- prospects! To the front."

I put my cigarette in an ash tray, before moving through the crowd that is beginning to make a semicircle around Flynn. Four other guys line up beside me, most around my age; but one looks older.

"Strip down," Flynn demands. Even though he looks like shit, the tone in his voice leaves no room for challenge.

The guys around me begin removing their clothes as another member comes to us with a box. I start to do the same, whistles carry out along with laughter; but all I can think about is my lighter in the inside pocket of my jacket. I throw clothing into the box like the others and cover my hands over my dick. The same guy comes back to take the box of clothing and shoes away.

"Mole," Flynn says.

A small guy with glasses and no tattoos approaches us with a device. I want to breathe a sigh of relief for putting the wire in the lighter and not on my body. Mole looks like he shouldn't belong here, besides me, he is the only other member with no tattoos. But it's more than that, he seems weak.

He makes his way through the guys who all raise no alarms. When he gets to me, he seems to take longer than with the others. Does he suspect I'm a rat? I keep my eyes hard on Mole, not adverting my gaze or wavering my confidence. I would give this fucker no reason to suspect me.

He stops and steps back. "All clean," even his voice kind of reminds me of a rodent. I wasn't sure what it was, but Mole pisses me off.

"The clothes," Fynn says moving his head towards the box of all of our shit.

My heartbeat escalates and my mouth immediately dry's. This is it. This is where I die. It will probably be super slow and painful too.

Fuck.

I watch as Mole walks over to our clothes as I try to stop my body from sweating. I thought I was going to die when I was much too young to comprehend such a thing. But this seems scarier, when I was young, I had only known a life with little joy but now... Now I have Bella.

I try to focus on nothing but my breathing as the device goes through the box. I want to close my eyes but don't, but I do picture her. Those giant green eyes and those perfect full lips...

"Clean."

I release my breath that I was meant to be concentrating on but couldn't while thinking of Bella. Stan you wonderful son of a bitch. I might just greet him with a kiss next time.