Somewhere inside me, a lyric stirs. I tap my fingers once, twice, against the side of the mug in a rhythm I don’t recognizeuntil I feel it sync with the beat in my chest. I stop before it becomes something real. Before it turns into a melody I’ll have to face.
The war room door cracks open not long after, and James steps out alone. He walks into the main room with his usual quiet presence, but there’s something weighted in the lines of his face. His eyes scan the room until they land on Maggie. She rises immediately and walks to him, smoothing her hands down the front of his cut before reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt underneath.
“You heading out already?” she asks softly.
He nods. “Gotta get to the Holloway building. Early shift today.”
Her brow creases, but it’s fond. “Tell Lincoln I said hey.”
James smiles. “Will do. We’re all keeping an eye on Olivia. Victor asked us to. Donovan’s been seen near the building more than once since the wedding.”
The room stills.
“Creepy bastard,” Ruby mutters.
James’s gaze shifts to me. “He hasn’t made a move yet. Just... watching. Waiting. But that’s why I’m keeping close. Can’t risk him getting bold.”
My fingers tighten around the mug. Another thread in the web. Another piece that doesn’t make sense, but it’s starting to form a shape.
Donovan. He’s not just tied to Malachi’s past. He’s not just the man my father got mixed up with. He’s circling Olivia now too. Victor’s woman. Which means he’s getting reckless. Or he’s getting close.
Everywhere we turn, he’s there. And my mother—Alice. Tied to him by more than whispers. A partner, maybe. A ghost behind the curtain.
It’s too much. Too many moving pieces. All of them are orbiting around people I love. What if we can’t stop him? What if he’s too far ahead, always three moves beyond what we can see? A chill crawls up my spine. We’re not just up against a man. We’re up against a system. And I don’t know if we can win.
James reaches out and touches Maggie’s face; gently, certain, making my chest ache. It’s not loud. Not flashy. It’s just real. It’s what I see starting to take root between me and Malachi.
We’re not perfect. We’re barely past the rubble. But there’s something strong forming between us, something worth holding on to.
I hope, when all this dust settles, we stand as solid as they do.
Then he turns to me. “You good, sweetheart?”
The question is simple, but it hits hard. I look up at him and nod. “I think so.”
He watches me a second longer, studying me with the kind of focus that might strip away the lie. Maybe he can.
“You’ve always had more strength than you think,” he says. “We saw it, even when you tried to push us away. Didn’t matter. We kept an eye on you anyway.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to say. So I just nod again. “Thank you,” I manage.
His expression softens. “You’ve got people now. Don’t forget that.”
Then he’s gone. The silence he leaves behind feels different than before. Not emptier. Just a little more grounded.
The war room door creaks open a few minutes later, and the tension in the air thins slightly. One by one, the guys file out. Malachi comes out first, followed by Knox, East, Nash, and finally Kyle. Then out comes Victor followed by a few patched members and prospects trailing behind, shoulders stiff, eyes sharp. None of them linger. The group moves through the clubhouse with purpose already etched into their steps. Everyone of them has a job to do. We’re not told what, but the weight of it hums in the silence they leave behind.
Malachi meets my eyes across the room and offers the smallest of nods. But it’s more than enough. It’s a tether. A grounding wire.
My hand drifts to the hem of my hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric. I don’t know when I started craving that look from him, but now I feel the absence of it the way cold air stings raw skin.
“God, it’s like they’ve just returned from battle,” Ruby says dramatically, sprawling back across the couch in full fainting Victorian widow fashion. “Someone get me a fan and a mint julep.”
Darla snorts. “You’ve never even had a mint julep.”
Ruby gasps. “Don’t expose me in front of the others.”
Nash, without even looking up, says dryly, “You’d probably spit it out anyway.”
