Because if no one knew the real me, no one could abandon me like she did.
When I was fourteen, I got caught stealing food. Thought I’d get my ass beat. Instead, Spike, seventeen at the time and already wearing a cut way too big for his cocky shoulders, stepped in.
He didn’t snitch. Didn’t judge. Just bought the damn food and told me if I was gonna steal, at least learn to do it without getting caught.
I latched onto him like a lifeline.
Spike wasn’t a gentle friend, but hewasasteady one.
He taught me how to fight. How to survive. How to be loyal to something bigger than the pain I came from.
When I was sixteen, I earned my patch. Youngest full member the Shadows ever had. Mostly because I didn’t fear death. When you grow up with nothing, dying doesn’t scare you. Living does.
The President at the time, Sky, took me under his wing. Sky was Spike’s uncle and always treated the men like family. Same way Spike does now.
For years, I told myself I didn’t need love. Not the real kind.
I could take lust. Take fun. Take bodies and pleasure and the temporary warmth of someone who didn’t look too deep.
Until Eli.
He’s soft where my life is hard. He’s gentle where my world is brutal.
He’s everything I never thought I was allowed to want.
And maybe that’s why loving him terrifies me more than war, death, or anything Cortéz could throw at us.
Yes, I’ve learned to love myself. Learned to love my brothers. Hell, I even thought I was in love once several years back… but that turned out to be nothing more than lust wearing a cheap Halloween mask.
Butthis? This is something else entirely.
It’s intense. It’s consuming. It’s damn near terrifying because if I can’t get this man to love me back, if I screw this up, if he decides he’s safer without me?
Yeah.
Imight be the one they carry out in a damn body bag.
I lean against the building, arms folded, pretending like my heart isn’t trying to Hulk-smash its way out of my ribs. I watch Eli as he and Abby laugh at something Sunny said.
His whole face lights up. That soft, shy smile. Those warm brown eyes that crinkle when he really laughs.
God help me, that laugh alone could bring me to my knees.
“He’s something else,” Maverick says beside me, nodding toward the group. “He’s handling all of this pretty well for someone who was thrown into the deep end of organized crime.”
I huff a laugh. “Thrown? Brother, I practicallyyeetedhim into the danger pool.”
Maverick snorts, but his expression stays thoughtful. “Most civilians would be screaming, crying, or trying to run. He’s panicked, yes. But he stays. He adapts. That says something.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes still locked on Eli like a damn magnet. “It says that he’s braver than he gives himself credit for.”
Maverick glances my way, brow raised. “It also says that he trusts you.”
That one hits me right in the sternum.
Could it be true, though?
“Feels like too much sometimes,” I admit quietly. “Feels like I’m holding something delicate. Something I don’t deserve.”
