My phone vibrates in my pocket. Rev.
Rev: She’s safe. Brooke has her.
Rev: She doesn’t want to see you.
My stomach drops clean out of my body.
Mason’s eyes narrow like he already knows what that text says. “You want to keep her, Blade, you better get your shit together. Fast.”
“Keeping her is the last thing I should do,” I mutter, staring at the table like it might have answers. “She’s better off without me. We all know it.”
Switch shoves halfway out of his chair again. “You really want to test me today?”
Ghost clamps a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a low, “Not here.”
Mason doesn’t blink. His stare has broken better men than me. “You protect what you claim. Or you let it go before someone else uses her to bleed you out.”
My vision blurs with fury and fear and something uglier than both. “She thinks she wants this life. She doesn’t. She doesn’t have a clue what it costs.”
Riot mutters, “Maybe let her decide that.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” I growl. “Too old to babysit someone who thinks having a biker boyfriend is just hot sex and parties.”
Ghost raises a brow. “Then stop acting like she’s the problem.”
I shove back from the table, chair scraping loud across the floor. “She is a problem. And I’m the idiot who let my dick decide that was worth the risk.”
Mason stands too. Calm. Controlled. Deadly. “Get your head on straight or get the fuck out of my sight.”
I stare him down. I should sit. I should shut up. I should cool off. Instead, I shove the door open and slam it behind me, needing air more than pride. The alley behind Perdition stinks of stale beer and last night’s smoke, and the cold cuts straight through my clothes. I light up a cigarette with unsteady hands and pull a lungful in, trying to quiet the panic chewing a hole through me. Bri isn’t at my place. She’s not where I left her. She’s out there with fucking Rev keeping an eye on her.
Footsteps crunch behind me and Mason shows up like he’s got nothing better to do. He stands there a minute, staring at the pavement like he’s sizing up how stupid I am, like he’s deciding whether to talk or knock me on my ass. He chooses talking. Barely.
“You done throwing your tantrum?” he asks.
I exhale smoke through my nose, jaw clenched. “I’m not throwing shit.”
“You are. And it’s fucking embarrassing.”
I whip my glare at him. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I always know what I’m talking about,” he fires back, eyes ice cold. “Especially when it comes to my club and the men in it.”
My fists flex at my sides. “I told her to stay home. I told her to stay safe. She didn’t listen to me.”
Mason nods slowly. “Yeah. Sometimes people you love get stubborn. Sometimes they make mistakes.”
“That mistake almost got her dragged into a car into the heart of our enemy.”
“And your reaction almost drove her right out of your life.”
I look away, swallowing the punch of that truth.
He isn’t done. “I get being scared. I get wanting to lock down everything that matters. But you can’t stop the world from spinning just because you’re afraid someone will fall.”
“She’s too young,” I bite out. “Too naive. She doesn’t understand this life.”
“So teach her,” Mason says flat. “Don’t try to break her spirit.”
