And for the first time, I admitted the truth:
The problem wasn’t wanting him.
It was him getting under my skin.
Letting him matter.
And that kind of weakness would get us both buried.
9
KELLAN
From the momentI’d woken up until now—following Ember into Lock’s office—everything felt like I’d stepped into the wrong movie. Or the wrong life. Or the wrong…everything.
You weren’t thinking that when Lock?—
Don’t even go there.
But damn it, it was hard not to. Especially seeing him standing there with his arms crossed like someone had pissed in his Cheerios. Meanwhile Wraith—Ember had said he was hers—lounged in Lock’s chair like he was auditioning for most annoying man alive.
And me?
I didn’t even know where to look.
Everything had been going so well.
Has it really?
Newsflash: you’ve been kidnapped.
Right. That.
But here was the ridiculous part:
Being kidnapped? Fine.
Being dragged into an enemy MC compound? Sure, whatever.
But Lock looking me in the eye and saying what happened was a mistake?
Yeah, that one hit somewhere I wasn’t ready to admit existed.
I’d thought about defying him and staying in the room, but I wasn’t that brave. So now I was standing in front of him after swallowing a whole humiliation sandwich, drowning inside his cut…the damn thing hanging off me like I was a kid playing dress-up.
So why did it matter so much that he’d given it to me?
Dammit. Everything felt confusing, and on top of that, I was clearly certifiable because every time the leather brushed my thigh, my stomach flipped.
Great. Perfect. Just what I needed today—my insides doing cartwheels for a situation so FUBAR it needed its own neon sign.
Ember nudged me deeper into the office with a gentle but firm hand. “C’mon. It’s fine.”
It did not feel fine.
Because people didn’t just wear another man’s cut. It meant things. Big things. Things Rowan would burn down several counties over.
So when Wraith blinked once and let out a low whistle, I wasn’t shocked.
