I sat ramrod straight in my chair and sent Margaret a withering glower down my nose. “Obviously, you’re in shock, Margaret, because it was clear to everyone that one of those club members put out most of the fires in church today.”
“That was my Seth, I heard,” Tabby interjected, smiling lovingly at her husband across the table. “He’s always had a bit of a hero complex.”
My mother laughed, a little manically, eager to dissolve the tension.
I would not allow that. Margaret wanted to throw down with me, then she’d discover just how much like my “whore” sister I was.
“These killings have nothing to do with The Fallen. If anything, you should be thankful they are here to protect this town as much as they can,” I continued in a tense voice.
I was hot and cold with anger and disappointment, my unsettled stomach clenching into a hard knot that made me want to contract around it in the fetal position. I hated conflict. I abhorred even the barest hint of friction in a social group. Yet there I was, practically provoking an altercation with a woman who was probably delirious with exhaustion and riled by the unjustness of losing her husband.
Beatrice Lafayette was known as the peacekeeper, the sweet girl with the ready smile.
But she was also the second-string choice, the sister in the shadows, the girl no one looked at twice.
I was tired of that, of the girl who conformed to fit into the small box people made for her.
I was ready to be noticed, and if need be, I was ready to fight.
I am not weak.
“I know you’re grieving, Margaret,” I soothed like silk over my iron words. “I know this year has been hard on your family. But The Fallen have nothing to do with your misfortunes.”
She sniffed loudly. “They’ve been a bane on this town for years. Just last year, they were involved in sex trafficking.”
A snarl built in my throat, but I swallowed it back and sent her a saccharine smile. “As a matter of fact, I think that had something to do with the mayor’s wife, Irina Ventura. Lila Meadows, an old lady in the MC, actually helped take them down.”
“You’re just defending them because you’ve been brainwashed by that man, Zeus Garro,” she claimed righteously. “He’s turned you away from God’s path. You’re hell bound now, girl.”
“Margaret,” my mum finally protested softly. “Bea is a good God-fearing woman. Please don’t conflate her with the club.”
“I wouldn’t be speaking if I were you, Phillipa.” Margaret’s eyes were narrow and dark reflections of her corroding heart. “You’re the one who let your eldest daughter marry that heathen. I heard they named their son Monster. Fitting name for an abomination.” Her lips curled in a malicious, contemplative grin. “I wonder if sin runs in the family, and you’re next in line to become one of their filthy sluts––”
Poor Margaret’s words were cut off with a shrill cry as I lunged over the table at her. My knee landed in a cool bowl of mashed potatoes, and my thigh knocked over a bottle of wine, the force of my movement dragging the tablecloth with me so every dish dislodged haphazardly. One of my hands dove into her hair to squeeze in an unforgiving fist while the other reared back to deliver a punishing blow straight to her gobsmacked face.
The gold heart-shaped ring I wore on my right hand split open her cheekbone, and blood dribbled down into her open mouth.
I sat back on my haunches on the table and wiped my bloody, sore knuckles on Margaret’s discarded napkin. “Next time you speak about my family like that, I’ll do more than hit you, Margaret. I’ll grab those criminals you seem so fixated on, and we’ll do some real damage.”
My smile was hot and twisted on my face like a hanger forced between my lips, but it felt good. Anger and violence coursed through me, making my head spin merrily.
“Bea!” my mother cried as she had been since I started my attack. “Oh my gosh, Bea, get down from there and apologize.”
“No,” Seth said calmly, standing up and bracing his hands on the table to lean forward as he addressed us. There was a cold fury on his face as he studied us, some dark hole whirling in his blue gaze. “Margaret, I think you should apologize to Bea. She’s done nothing wrong, and though I do not condone her violence, you provoked her beyond all hope of passivity.”
When Margaret only blinked in shock at him, Seth rounded the table and stood a few feet away from her. He did nothing but maintain eye contact with her, his face composed, those eyes still as placid water, yet the energy radiating from him was so palpable, my skin pebbled into goosebumps. He had the same peaceful authority that my grandpa so often exerted over lost people in his flock, nipping at their heels like a shepherding dog to bring them back into the fold.