Everything clicks into place. The dangerous aura, the confidence, the underlying violence in his movements.
"You were undercover," I whisper. "At Midnights.”
"Smart girl." His arm tightens around my shoulders. "We've been gathering intel on Los Cuervos for weeks. The cartel's moving a new drug called Raven into our territory. My stepsister wasn't the only victim."
I shiver. "My brother too."
"Yeah." His jaw tightens. "And we're going to stop them before more people die. But first, let's get you settled."
He leads me inside, where the noise hits me like a physical force. Men in leather vests with patches—cuts,my mind supplies from movies—drinking, playing pool, laughing. Several women in revealing outfits drape themselves over the men. It's intimidating and overwhelming.
The room quiets as we enter. Dozens of eyes turn our way.
"Where's Chaos?" Fury asks no one in particular.
"Office," a burly man with a wild beard answers, openly staring at me.
Fury guides me through the crowd, his hand possessive on my lower back. We move down a hallway to a closed door, which Fury opens without knocking.
Inside, a man with dark blonde hair tied back in a leather band looks up from a desk covered in papers. His eyes assess me in one quick sweep before returning to Fury.
"Kayla, this is Jace, our president. We call him Chaos."
Chaos stands. He's taller than Fury, with a presence that fills the room. He stares me up and down for a long time.
Fury's hand tightens on my waist.
“You planning on keeping her?" Chaos’s question is to Fury, but his eyes remain on me.
The question makes my cheeks burn. Keeping me? Like I'm a stray cat?
"She's mine," Fury states flatly, the possessiveness in his tone sending a thrill up my spine.
Chaos studies me for another long moment, then nods once. "Alright. We'll figure it out.
Chaos's mouth quirks. “Have one of the cut sluts get a room ready for her. She can bunk with them until?—”
"She stays with me," Fury counters.
The corner of Chaos’s mouth turns up slightly. “Of course she does," he drawls knowingly. “We’ll discuss this in church tomorrow morning.”
Back in the main room, Fury steers me toward a pretty young woman with honey-colored hair who's setting out plates of food on a long table.
"Rowan," Fury calls. "Got someone for you to meet."
The woman turns, and I'm struck by how normal she looks compared to the few other women I’ve glimpsed so far. She wears no makeup, and her clothes are simple, normal jeans and a sweater.
"Hi," she says, offering a genuine smile. "You must be Kayla."
"How did you?—"
“Big compound, bigger ears," she explains with a shrug. "I'm Rowan—Chaos's old lady. Welcome to the madhouse."
Fury squeezes my shoulder. "Rowan will show you around while I meet with the brothers. Stay with her, understand?"
I nod, feeling suddenly bereft as his warmth leaves my side.
"And Rowan?" Fury pauses. "She's mine."
