“I’m not useless just because I’m injured.” Frustration bleeds into my voice. “I learned from Dad and Jackal. I know strategy, I know how clubs operate. Let me help.”
Ash studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. “Fine. Tell us what you remember.”
I walk them through everything I saw—the compound layout, the security cameras, the number of guards, the way they patrol. It’s not much, but it’s more than they had before.
When the meeting finally breaks up, the brothers file out to handle their assignments. Ghost pauses by my chair. “You did well,” he says quietly.
“I barely did anything.”
“You stayed.” His hand touches my shoulder briefly. “That’s more than nothing.” He leaves before I can respond.
Titan helps me stand. “Need help getting back upstairs?” he asks.
“I’ve got her,” Ash says from across the room.
Titan looks between us, grins, and heads for the door. “Right. I’ll just…go patrol something.”
The door closes, and it’s just me and Ash in the meeting room. He gathers papers, stacks them neatly, and takes his time. I stay quiet, watching him work.
“You should have stayed in bed,” he finally says.
I shift my weight, and pain shoots up my legs, but I don’t let it show. “I’m not helpless, Ash.”
“I know.” He sets down the papers and looks at me. “I should have protected you better.”
“You couldn’t have known?—”
“I should have stopped your father from arranging that marriage in the first place.” His hands curl into fists. “Instead, I let you walk into hell and then had to pull you out covered in blood.”
“That wasn’t your responsibility.”
“Yes, it was.” He moves closer. “You’re part of this club. That makes you my responsibility. Especially now.”
“Especially now?”
He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“Marry me,” he says.
I laugh. Can’t help it. The absurdity of the statement after everything that’s happened?—
But he doesn’t laugh. His expression stays dead serious.
“Wait.” My laughter dies. “You’re actually serious?”
“Completely.”
“Ash, I just ran away from one wedding?—”
“This is different.” He takes my hand. “Your father’s in jail. That makes you vulnerable. Marcus is claiming you as stolen property. But if you’re my wife, you’re untouchable. No one can take you without starting a war with me personally.”
My heart does something complicated in my chest. “So this is strategic.”
“This is practical.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “You need protection. I can give it to you.”
Part of me wants to cry. I’ve had a crush on this man since I was fifteen years old. Dreamed about him noticing me, wanting me, choosing me. And now he’s proposing marriage like it’s a business transaction.
“What do I get out of it?” I ask, hating how my voice shakes.
