I’m hiswhat?
Judge seems to flinch at that, too, a tiny crack in his granite composure. “You can’t be serious.”
Ripper reaches out and pinches a strand of my hair between his blood-slicked fingers, staining the chestnut strands a rusty red. His smile turns soft. “I am.”
Confusion wars with a sudden spike of fear. I’ve never been more lost, but I see this is tilting Judge’s world. The frustration in his jaw and how he pinches his nose like he’s staving off a migraine all scream that this is a big deal.
My whole body flinches when he kneels, bringing his face level with mine. His brows furrow together, his scowl sharp enough to cut glass.
“Then let me make this very clear,Haven.Threaten my club by running back to them, and Ripper’s the one who is going to be the one to take responsibility.” His voice is low, a deadly whisper. “Next time, I won’t stop until he’s dead.”
The threat isn’t aimed at me. It’s aimed through me. And Ripper, the absolute madman, picks the worst possible time to cough out a wet, ragged laugh.
He can tell this is serious, can’t he? Does anything ever pierce that shell of his?
“I’m not a freaking spy,” I sputter, the denial feeling weak and childish in the face of his absolute conviction.
Judge doesn’t care. His message was delivered. He just stands back up, turning his attention to my brother. Watching him walk over to Paulie, I’m sure he’s going to threaten him next, and start a line of questioning.
“He doesn’t know you yet; just give him some time.” Ripper’s voice is a low rumble, for my ears only. “He’ll warm up to you in no time.”
Much to my dismay, he moves to stand on his own. As he clutches his side, I see the dark, wet bloom of blood seeping through his shirt. He’s wounded.
This man is going to be the death of me.
He leads me over to Leah, who’s already pulling out what she needs from her medkit to help him next.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I watch as he peels off his ruined shirt, revealing the brutal landscape of his torso. A fresh, angry gash cuts across his ribs, weeping.
Among the old, silvery scars mapping his skin, this new one looks like a violent signature. He’s going to have another scar. My own chest aches, a hollow, phantom pain forming from just looking at it.
Leah works with efficient, unsentimental hands. Ripper doesn’t flinch, his gaze distant, as if his mind is somewhere else entirely. When she finishes, the wound is cleaned and bandaged.
I watch in disbelief as he simply nods his thanks, pulls his shirt back on, and leaves us to join Judge with his interrogation.Not a single grudge held for the death threat or his punishment. Just business as usual.
“Hey, what’s an old lady?” Hugging myself, I try to find some warmth, some stability. “Ripper called me his old lady. I’m pretty sure he’s a lot older than me.”
I don’t expect Leah to laugh, a short, surprised burst of sound, and even she looks startled by it.
“When pigs fly, I guess,” she mutters, shaking her head as she works on cleaning up her bloody mess. She looks at me, her eyes knowing. “Means he declared you as his.”
I just stare at her, the words not computing. Declared? Like a piece of territory? Like a…
Leah sees the realization hit and offers a wry, almost pitying smile. “Don’t hold it against him for being a little extreme. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend before. He doesn’t know how things work. They’re all like that.” She gestures vaguely at the club members. “It’s… a lot.”
Girlfriend?
The word feels alien, completely inadequate for whatever just happened. That’s something that should be discussed, whispered over a candlelit dinner, not declared to a murderous club president after what just happened at the docks.
I look back at Ripper. Despite the gore and injuries, he possesses a brutal beauty and feral intensity that is both terrifying and magnetic. He’s all hard lines, carved from violence and survival.
I’m out of my depth in his world, a minnow in a shark tank.
Plus… I have a life to go back to. Or I did. The thought is a sudden, cold splash of reality. Can I go back? If the club—if Ripper—has made an enemy of Crimson Road, then I don’t even know if I’ll have a home to return to.
This was supposed to be a way to help Paulie, a simple rescue mission.
I’m hit with the chilling truth. My brother might be safe, but I’ve just jumped from the frying pan into the heart of the fire. Now, I’m wondering if I’m the one who’s going to need help, too.
