Rye shifts.“So… we don’t kill her.”
“No,” Legend answers like he’s relieved.“Not unless she becomes a bigger threat than the one, we’re already facing.”
My voice finally rises, low and steady.“She’s useful.”
Legend looks at me.Really looks.
“Useful how?”he asks.
“She knows things,” I say.“About Pearly Gates.About the missing girls.”
Rye frowns.“You really think the Reverend’s behind that?”
“Don’t matter.I think Becki can help us tie him to it,” I say.“Maybe end this shit once and for all.”
Legend’s expression doesn’t change, but the muscles there tighten.“Sherrif Dix has been breathing down our necks.But even if we cut the head off that snake, another will take its place.”
“Pleasant,” Derby remarks, speaking of one of the Reverend’s creepy companions.
Lex steps forward from the wall, arms crossed, voice calm but firm.“It’s not the people.It’s the leadership.The congregation ain’t the ones runnin’ girls or twisting scripture.It’s the Reverend and the ones he chooses.”
The brothers murmur agreement.
Legend sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.“So we hold her.We keep her out of sight.We don’t hurt her unless she gives us no choice.”
Rye looks toward the exit.“What about movin’ her to her trailer?Safer.Less eyes.”
“No,” I snap.
Every head turns.
“Why?”Derby challenges.
Because she belongs where I can see her.Because someone might take her.Because someone might kill her before she talks.Because I need her close.
I choose the only answer that won’t get me killed or laughed out of the room.
“She’s safer here,” I say.“Trailer’s too easy to reach.Too easy to burn.”
Legend nods once.“She stays.Royal watches her.No one else goes near her.”
Oaks stiffens.
Rye whistles.“Damn.Our poet’s got a full-time job now.”
Whiskey grins.“Ain’t even gettin’ paid for babysittin’ a Crowley.”
Legend’s voice turns sharp again.“This is serious.She’s a Crowley, yes.She’s trouble, yes.But she’s also part of this community whether we like it or not.”
“And if she dies on our watch?”Whiskey murmurs.
Legend’s eyes turn dark.“Then Paradise County will burn the Kings of Anarchy to the ground.”
No one laughs after that.
Not even me.
Church breaks slow, like everyone’s afraid to move too fast around the truth we just kicked loose.Boots scrape the old tile, chairs creak, brothers mutter in low voices about Pearly Gates and missing girls and how the hell Becki Crowley ended up locked in our clubhouse like a goddamn ghost we’re too scared to look at straight.
