“The kind that means they’re planning something,” Nitro grumbles. “I don’t like it. We should hit them first, before they—”
“We hold,” I say firmly, flipping the chip with my thumb. “We’re not starting a war we can’t control. What else?”
Ghost finally looks up, his expression serious. “Captain Rourke’s been making moves. Meeting with Alliance leadership. Whatever they’re planning, it involves him.”
The chip pauses mid-turn. “How solid is this intel?”
“Solid enough. Got surveillance photos, time stamps, the works. Want me to send them to your cell?”
“Do it.” I lean back, letting the chip resume its rhythm. “What about the McClane operation? Bear, where are we?”
Bear’s rumble fills the Chapel. “On schedule. The gold shipment moves next week. Got our buyers lined up, routes planned. Should be clean.”
“Should be isn’t good enough,” I say, my eyes on the chip as it glides across my knuckles. “I want confirmation on every detail. This operation can’t have any loose ends.”
“Already on it, Pres,” Bear assures me. “We’ll be solid.”
We run through the rest of the club business—security protocols, financial reports, supply chain issues. The weight of leadership settles on my shoulders like it always does, that constant pressure of keeping all the pieces moving, all the players in line, all my brothers safe.
I’m always thinking ahead. It’s how I’ve survived this long. It’s how the club has thrived under my leadership. But lately, there’s been a wild card in play, and she’s just outside those Chapel doors, her presence like a magnet pulling me to her.
“Pres?” Nitro’s voice draws me back. “You good?”
I realize I’ve been staring at the poker chip, frozen in my palm. “Yeah. Fine. We done here?”
The brothers exchange glances, but they know better than to push. “Yeah, we’re done,” Ghost says carefully. “Unless there’s something else?”
“Dismissed.” I stand, pocketing the chip. “Keep me updated on Rourke. Any movement, I want to know immediately.”
They file out, leaving me alone in the Chapel. I sink back into my chair, pulling out the chip again and setting it on the table. The morning light coming through the window makes it glow, and for a moment, I’m eight years old again, sitting on a worn-out couch with caramel candies and hope.
The door opens, and I look up expecting one of my brothers.
But it’s Elizabeth.
Wearing one of my T-shirts, her hair messy from sleep and our many rounds of crazy fucking. She looks beautiful and dangerous, and everything I should stay away from.
But I can’t.
“Hey,” she says softly, closing the door behind her. “The guys said you were in here, and I could come in.”
“Just finishing up some business.” I watch as she moves toward me, her eyes catching on the poker chip sitting on the table between us.
She sits in the chair beside me, her gaze fixed on the chip. “That chip,” she says after a moment. “You’re always flipping it. I’ve been watching you, and it’s… it’s not about gambling, is it? It means something.”
My jaw tightens. I’ve shared my body with this woman, let her into my bed, into my space. But sharing my past? That’s a whole different level of vulnerability, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
But when I look at her, when I see the genuine curiosity in her eyes, the care—I find myself wanting to tell her. Wanting her to know this piece of me that I’ve never shared with anyone.
Not even Rebekka.
“It’s not about gambling,” I finally say, my voice rough. I reach for the chip, letting it move between my fingers in that familiar rhythm. “It’s about… hope, I guess. Or it was.”
She waits, doesn’t push. Just sits there with those eyes that see too much, making me want to give her everything.
I take a breath and start talking. “I was eight years old,” I begin, the words coming harder than expected. “My mother came home one night with this bag of caramel candies. Wasn’t my birthday, wasn’t any special occasion. Just one of those rare times when she hit a little luck at the slots.” The memory plays out in my mind like an old film, grainy but vivid.
“She sat down on our beat-up couch, lit a cigarette, and told me I was her good luck charm. Then she pulled this chip out of her pocket.” I hold it up, the red and white stripes catching the light. “Said she was giving it to me instead of cashing it in. Told me I was worth more than what it could buy.”
