Riot taps my chest with two fingers. Hard. “You can’t scare someone into staying. And you sure as hell can’t scare them into feeling safe.”
I stare at those two assholes, these brothers who I trust with my life, these men who are right even though I’d rather throw them across the bar than admit it, but I’m not ready to face the truth they’re pushing in front of me. I’m not ready to apologize or back down, not while fear is still shouting louder than love. So I twist away from both of them, grab the bottle again, and take another long swallow, letting the burn give me something simpler to feel. Anger is easier than heartbreak, and whiskey is a hell of a lot easier than finding the right words.
Morning hitsme like it’s got a personal vendetta, my skull pounding and my mouth tasting like something died in it twice. I crack one eye open and instantly regret the decision when Perdition’s neon sign flickers in through the grimy frontwindows, reminding me that I passed out at the damn bar like a first-rate idiot. Riot and Ghost are long gone, probably decided I wasn’t worth babysitting and headed home before things got embarrassing, which means I must’ve been really pathetic. My bottle is still sitting in front of me with one sad swallow left and for a split second I consider finishing it off, because nothing says stable adult decisions like chasing a hangover with the exact poison that caused it.
Before I can be that stupid, my phone buzzes on the bar. The screen lights up like a warning grenade.
Pres: Church. Ten minutes.
Fantastic. Mason’s timing is always flawless when I’m doing my worst. I groan, push myself off the stool, and nearly eat the floor. My boots feel like they’re full of wet cement. The hangover hits all at once. And under it, the memory of last night slices clean.
Bri’s face. Red eyes. Hurt burning through all that fire. Then her turning away from me like I gave her no reason to stay. I shove that thought deep. Lock it down. I do not have time to deal with feelings. I have damage to control.
Lucky for me, Church is only a stumble away through the back hall. The clubhouse sits behind the bar, connected by a metal door with a keypad. I punch in the code with fingers that barely cooperate and shove my way inside.
Fluorescent lights. Leather cuts. Judging eyes.
Awesome.
I slide into my seat at the table, head pounding like a bad drummer. Riot gives me the look of a man who watched medestroy myself and plans to mock me after. Ghost just nods. Silent. Calculating.
Then Switch.
He stands the second he sees me.
And the room temperature drops twenty degrees.
His voice is low. Deadly. “You called Bri a child.”
I don’t even flinch. “She acted like one.”
A few brothers suck in sharp breaths like they expect Switch to put me through the wall. Honestly? I’d let him.
He steps closer until our chests almost touch. “You yell at my sister-in-law like that again, and I will show you what being a child gets you in this club.”
Mason slams his fist on the table. “Sit down, Switch.”
Switch doesn’t move. He keeps his glare locked on me. I hold it. I am too hungover and too angry to back down. Finally he sits. The warning stays.
Mason stands at the head of the table, palms flat like he’s holding the whole damn club steady. “The situation in Jackson escalated overnight,” he says, voice level but sharp enough to cut. “These college assholes? They’re not just wannabes with daddy’s money anymore. They’re tied to bigger dogs. Organized. Funded.”
The room goes quiet. No one likes hearing bigger dogs.
He continues, “And they made a move on Bri.”
Everything inside me goes tight. The words hit hard enough to steal breath. I keep my face blank, but my fists curl on instinct under the table.
Mason looks straight at me when he adds, “This isn’t random anymore. They knew where she was. They knew she was connected to us.”
Rev mutters a curse under his breath. Lucky’s jaw ticks. Even Ghost looks pissed, and that man barely reacts to a nuclear bomb.
Mason keeps going. “We tighten up. Shop goes on lockdown. We rotate protection at the houses. No one connected to us gets left alone. Not for a minute. Not until we shut this down.”
My teeth grind as my jaw locks so hard it aches. I don’t say a damn word, because if I open my mouth right now, all that’s coming out is violence.
Riot kicks my boot under the table. Subtle. “You listening, grumpy?”
I barely hear the rest of what Mason says, because the only thought ripping through my head like a goddamn animal is that Bri isn’t at my place right now, she’s out there somewhere I can’t see her, somewhere I can’t get to her fast enough if something goes sideways again, and the idea of her being exposed like that has every instinct I’ve got screaming that I need to move, need to get to her, need to put myself between her and the world before anyone else even thinks about laying a hand on her.
