“When we made love,” he corrects quietly.
The words make my chest tight.“Yeah.That.”
We lie there in the quiet, my heartbeat gradually slowing, his unnatural stillness a strange comfort now instead of something unsettling.His arm drapes over my waist, holding me close, and I rest my hand on his chest, feeling the cold of him seep into my palm.
I don’t know how long passes before the outside world filters back in, the hum of pipes in the walls, a distant door closing, muffled voices down the hall as the club goes about its business, unaware that something fundamental just shifted upstairs.
“They’re going to know,” I say quietly.“The brothers.They’ll know what we did.”
“They already know.”His thumb strokes lazy circles on my hip.“We’re bonded.They could probably feel the surge of power from downstairs.”
“Great.”I bury my face against his shoulder.“So much for privacy.”
His chest rumbles with quiet laughter.“We’re in an MC clubhouse.Privacy was never on the table.”
“Point taken.”I pull back to look at him.“What happens now?”
His expression grows serious.“Now we figure out what you are.What the warden power actually means.And how we’re going to use it to stop the Khorvath before it breaks free.”
“No pressure.”
“None at all.”He kisses my forehead, soft and sweet.“But first, we rest.You’ve been through hell today, and whatever comes next, you need your strength.”
As if on cue, exhaustion crashes over me, not only physical but emotional, the weight of everything finally catching up.I curl into him, letting his coolness soothe my overheated skin, and his arms tighten around me.
“Sleep,” he murmurs against my hair.“I’ll keep watch.”
“You always do,” I whisper back.
And wrapped in his arms, connected to him in ways I’m only beginning to understand, I let myself drift.
I don’t know how long passes before the outside world filters back in, muffled voices down the hall.
One voice cuts sharper than the rest.
Blade.
“—say she’s a liability,” he rumbles, words seeping through the thin wall behind the headboard.“You saw the mark flare in church, Prophet.It reacted to every damn thing.”
Prophet’s softer tone follows, thoughtful and edged with something that might be worry.“It also reacted when she stood her ground.When she claimed agency.When she chose.That matters.Power fed by fear is one thing.Power fed by will is another.”
“You’re telling me her stubborn streak is an asset?”Blade snorts quietly.
“I’m telling you,” Prophet replies, “her courage changes the equation.She isn’t a passive conduit.She’s an active variable.That makes her dangerous...and invaluable.”
Silence stretches.
“Sometimes I hate it when you talk fancy,” Blade mutters.“But I hear you.Still.If that thing comes for her, comes for us, it tests everything we stand for.Nobody fucks with the Kings, remember?”
“I remember,” Prophet says.“The question is whether the Kings are willing to extend that promise to her all the way to the end.”
Another pause.Heavier this time.
“They better,” Vex murmurs against my hair, voice a low vow only I can hear.“Because if they don’t, we’ll have a different kind of war on our hands.”
The words send a chill through me that has nothing to do with his temperature.
Because I believe him.
