“That’s how everybody starts. Trick’s not quittin’ before your brain figures out what the hell your feet are doin’.”
I glanced at him. Sunlight caught the edge of his jaw, highlighting the faint stubble that softened his usually sharp expression. He looked different in daylight. Or maybe I was different in daylight.
“Did you always know what you wanted to do?” I asked.
He huffed, amused. “That come with the drivin’ lesson?”
“Just wondering.”
He leaned back, thinking. “Not really. I just knew what I didn’t want. Didn’t want rules. Didn’t want someone tellin’ me what I could be. So I picked a road and rode till it felt right. Same as my daddy.”
“That simple?”
“Nothin’ about life’s simple, Lark. But it gets easier once you stop runnin’ from who you are.”
I stared out through the windshield, his words landing heavier than he probably meant them to.Stop running from who you are.
“Maybe one day I’ll figure out who that is,” I said quietly.
Chain didn’t look away from me. “You already know,” he said, softer now. “You just don’t believe it yet.”
The truck rolled to a stop, engine idling low. Sunlight spilled across the open road ahead, but the space between us felt closer, warmer, fuller.
His arm lifted, resting on the back of my seat as he leaned in to look past me toward the road. The movement brought him close—too close—and I felt the breath he exhaled touch my cheek.
“Wanna try the highway next?” he asked, voice low and smooth as warm smoke.
“Not a chance. At least not today.”
He smiled—slow, easy, knowing. “Didn’t think so.”
But neither of us moved.
The hum of the idling engine filled the silence, steady and alive, wrapping around us like a heartbeat that wasn’t sure which one of us it belonged to.
Finally, I shifted the truck back into gear and turned us toward the clubhouse, though the quiet between us stayed warm and full all the way there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DEVIL SUMMONED EVERYONEto the war room, and normallyI liked those meetings. Usually meant I already knew what we were walkin’ into. Usually meant I’d spent half the damn morning leanin’ in Devil’s doorway, talkin’ strategy while he sharpened that steady glare of his.
But I haven’t been in his office much lately.
Haven’t been anywhere except in my head… and Lark’s been sittin’ there—quiet, bright, settled in deep—like she owns the place.
I was still thinkin’ her name when the door opened. Ash came in with Thunder trailing behind him, both of ’em cut from the same hard Southern stock. Strong jaws, ice-blue eyes,carryin’ history on their shoulders like it was stitched into their bones. First cousins or not, they could’ve passed for brothers.
Ash bein’ here meant one thing—the cult.
“How’s Lark doing?” Ash asked, pullin’ out the seat beside mine. “Heard she’s working for you now, but I haven’t caught her to say hey.”
My grip tightened under the table. Jealousy wasn’t a sharp thing—it was low, a slow pulse, sittin’ under my ribs like a angry dog. Ash knew her long before I did. Knew pieces of her past she’s not offered me yet.
“She’s damn good,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Handles the bar like she was born to it.”
Ash nodded, thoughtful. “Good. Girl’s tough as nails, but I still worry.”
Thunder let out a short laugh. “Ain’t gotta. Chain’s takin’ real good care of her.”
