“Get him to the roundhouse,” Devil ordered.
Daddy stepped in front of Briar, his body blockin’ her view. “Inside,” he ordered. “Now. Your mama’s worried sick. You don’t leave this clubhouse.”
“I’m not a kid,” she started.
“You’re my daughter,” he said flat. “And I’ll handle the men who laid hands on you.”
That was it. Former Sergeant at Arms Bull had just clocked back in, and the old man was ready for one more ride.
As Briar turned away, she stopped and looked back at me. “She saw you with Sugar, Calder.”
The words hit hard and deep. I didn’t turn. Didn’t trust myself to.
Of course she had. She’d walked in on the worst moment, taken one look, and filled in the blanks the way anyone would. She already thought I’d written her off as a cheater, and I’d stood there lookin’ guilty as hell. Her only crime had been silence. Mine was lettin’ hurt turn me into somethin’ I never meant to be.
Even if I hadn’t touched Sugar, I didn’t know how I’d ever convince her of that now, or if she’d even listen long enough to try.
I said nothin’. Just fell into step beside Daddy as we headed for the roundhouse, every other thought burnin’ away until only one remained. Gettin’ Lark back was all that mattered. Not my pride, not my anger, not the explanations stackin’ up in my head. She was in danger, and if anythin’ happened to her because I hadn’t trusted better, chased harder, or protected faster, that weight would follow me for the rest of my life.
***
THE ROUNDHOUSE SMELLEDlike fear that had soaked too deep into the walls to ever really leave. Old fear layered withfresh, the kind that clung to your skin whether you earned it or not.
Jacob sat chained to a chair in the center of the room, wrists cuffed to the arms, ankles bolted straight through the concrete. His face was pale, eyes darting nonstop, trackin’ every shift of weight, every creak of leather, every scrape of boots against the floor. He already knew what this place was meant for.
That was the thing about men like him. Once they understood the stakes, they didn’t last long.
Devil stood a few feet away, calm as still water, hands loose at his sides like this was just another meetin’. Mystic leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed, expression carved into stone. A few others lined the edges of the room, silent and watchful.
I stayed back.
Didn’t trust myself any closer.
Devil let the silence stretch until it pressed down hard enough to make Jacob’s breath go shallow and ragged. When he finally spoke, his voice stayed level, unhurried.
“You know why you’re here.”
Jacob nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Good,” Devil said. “Then we aren’t waisting time.”
“I’ll tell you everythin’,” Jacob blurted. “I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought it was over.”
Mystic pushed off the wall. “Start at the beginnin’.”
Jacob’s gaze flicked to him, guilt flashin’ harsh and ugly. “Chelsea.”
The room shifted. Mystic went still.
My jaw locked.
“You were feeding her information,” Devil said. Not a question.
Jacob nodded, words tumblin’ now that the dam had broke. “She came to me a week after Zeynep showed up. Said she wasscared. Said she needed help, needed protection while she got out from under Mystic. I thought it was about keepin’ herself safe. About the divorce.”
Mystic’s voice dropped, quiet and lethal. “You gotta be the dumbest son of a bitch I ever trusted.”
I took a step forward before I realized I’d moved. “Forget Chelsea. Forget Gabrial. Right now, I wanna know what you were feedin’ Jasper.”
