And when it did, I wouldn’t hesitate.
I’d jump back into the fire without thinkin’ twice.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SMELL OFbiscuits and fresh coffee filledthe farmhouse, warm and calming, like everything Miriam touched. Morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, turning the air gold and catching dust motes that drifted like lazy ghosts. I’d been helping her hang laundry out back, the wind snapping at the sheets, when she’d called me in with a smile that saidcompany’s coming.
When the knock came, it wasn’t shy.
Miriam dried her hands on her apron and opened the door to two women. Denim, leather, and confidence came with them, their vests stitched withThe Devil’s House MCpatches that glinted in the light.
“Lord have mercy,” Miriam said with a fond laugh. “Aren’t you two a sight. Get on in here.”
The first woman moved like the floor had been waiting on her. Short, dark hair piled into a messy knot, eyes intense and certain. She grinned the kind of grin that dared you not to like her.
“Hey, Mama M,” she said, pulling Miriam into a hug. “You making coffee, or should we just pour it ourselves?”
“Lucy,” Miriam said, laughing as she swatted her arm. “You know where the mugs are.”
The second woman followed with quiet grace. Red braid down her back, soft brown eyes that took in every corner of the room, like she collected truths and kept them safe. She gave a small nod when Miriam smiled her way.
“Zeynep, sweetheart,” Miriam said gently. “How are you doin’?”
Zeynep’s lips curved faintly. “Better with each passing day.” Her accent was lilting, the kind that softened the edges of her words. “I’m glad to see you safe.”
“No more than me,” Miriam replied. “Sit down, both of you.”
Lucy dropped into a chair, sunglasses sliding onto the table. “So what’s your name?” she asked, tipping her chin toward me.
“This here is Lark,” Miriam said.
I gave a small smile. “Hi,” I said, hesitant, unsure how to fit in among women like them—strong, sure, loud in ways I wasn’t used to.
Lucy looked me over like she was measuring something invisible, but her eyes were kind. “Well, damn,” she said. “You’ve got looks to go with all that bravery I heard about.”
Miriam clicked her tongue. “Lucy.”
“What?” Lucy’s grin widened. “It’s a compliment.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it—awkward, too high—but it loosened something in me. It felt good, beinglaughed withinstead ofwatched.
Zeynep’s gaze met mine across the table. “You’re from the compound,” she said softly, not a question, but understanding.
I nodded. “Yeah. I was.”
Her eyes softened. “And now you’re not. That’s what matters.”
Lucy reached for the coffee pot, poured herself a cup, and leaned back. “So what’s the plan, Lark? Miriam said you’re looking to start over. You got any idea where you wanna begin?”
I hesitated, tracing the rim of my mug. “I’m not sure. I just know I can’t stay here forever. It’s peaceful, but it’s too quiet. I want… noise, I guess. People. A reason to wake up that’s bigger than just breathing.”
Lucy’s grin widened. “Now that, I get. You want life loud again. You wanna remember what it feels like to be in motion.”
“Exactly,” I said, surprised by how easily she’d read me.
“Well, Lark,” she said, voice easy but sure, “we can help. You can stay at the clubhouse, which is never quiet or boring, and we’ll find you a job with one of the club’s businesses. You’ll have your own space to figure out who you are.”
Zeynep nodded beside her. “Lucy’s good at finding people their footing. She means what she says.”
