“Don’t question me.” My voice stayed calm, but I felt the edge beneath it sharpen. “She’s forgotten who she is, but the fire in her eyes hasn’t changed. The Flame marked her for me.”
Another pause. Longer this time. “What do you want me to do?”
“Watch,” I said. “Listen. The biker’s name is Chain. I want to know what he means to her—and how to separate them.”
“That’s risky. They’ll notice.”
“They won’t,” I murmured. “You’ve always been good at pretending. That’s why I chose you.”
He exhaled, dry and uneasy. “And when I know?”
“I’ll be in contract.” I softened my voice, let it turn almost gentle. “The Flame will reward you if you don’t fail.”
The line went dead with a quiet click.
I hung up but let my hand linger on the cool metal, grounding myself in the certainty of it. Somewhere beyond the station, the first hint of dawn was bleeding into the sky—thin and red, like the edge of a wound that hadn’t decided whether it wanted to heal.
I closed my eyes and whispered the words I’d carried for years.
“From ash, the Flame is born anew.”
Then I got back into the truck and drove toward the horizon, steady now. Certain.
Because the Flame had spoken.
And soon, it would reclaim what was His.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
HIGH VOLTAGE WASdoin’ what it always did.Music loud enough to rattle the glasses. Someone laughin’ too hard at the bar. The smell of booze, grease, and sweat hangin’ thick in the air. I’d seen this place a thousand times. Ran it. Bled for it. None of it registered anymore.
Lark did.
She moved between the tables like she belonged there, like the noise and the heat and the press of bodies didn’t faze her. Tray steady in her hand, eyes up, readin’ people the way most folks never learned how. She didn’t rush. Didn’t apologize for takin’ up space.
And somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, she stayed hers.
Folks felt it, too. Leaned in closer because of it.
Hell, I sure as shit did.
I leaned my elbows on the bar, watchin’ her laugh at somethin’ Ruby said. It wasn’t loud or careless. Just a small, real sound that slipped out before she could stop it. The kind of laugh that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.
Protective. Possessive. Dangerous.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Gatsby said from behind the bar, polishin’ a glass like it’d personally wronged him. “Chain finally chained. World’s officially gone to hell.”
“Damn straight,” I said, not even pretendin’ to argue. “Lark’s fuckin’ perfect.”
The words landed heavier than I’d meant them to.
A man didn’t say things like that unless he meant ’em. And I meant it in a way that left me wide open, ribs bare, heart right there for the taking. I clocked it. Didn’t walk it back.
“Then what’s she doin’ with your dumb ass?” Devil asked, takin’ the stool beside me.
His tone stayed dry, but his eyes moved constantly, trackin’ the room, the door, the people. Devil missed nothin’.
“Slummin’ it,” I said, smirkin’. “Don’t tell her, though. Woman still thinks I’m worth somethin’.”
