I study the map. She’s right. The attacks look random at first glance, but when you connect them, there’s a clear spiral pattern moving toward the clubhouse.
“Smart,” I admit. “Marcus is smarter than we gave him credit for.”
“He’s desperate.” She traces the pattern with her finger. “We humiliated him when I ran. He’s not just fighting for territory anymore. He’s fighting for his reputation.”
“Which makes him more dangerous.”
“Exactly.” She looks up at me. “We need to disrupt the pattern. Hit him where he doesn’t expect it.”
“Like where?”
“Here.” She taps a spot on the map well outside our usual territory. “One of his legitimate businesses. A bar he owns that launders money. If we hit it, he has to pull resources back to protect his other interests. Breaks the spiral.”
I study the map, run tactical scenarios in my head. It could work. Would require careful planning and enough manpower to both attack and defend if he retaliates.
“I’ll bring it to Ash,” I say.
“Bring it to the council.” She rolls up the map. “My idea, my presentation.”
Pride swells in my chest. Not my chest—my assessment of her tactical value to the club. That’s what this feeling is. Definitely not pride or affection or any of the other emotions I’m supposed to be keeping at arm’s length.
“You’ve gotten good at this,” I tell her.
“I had good teachers.” She smiles. “Dad trained Jackal in club operations, but he trained me too. He just never admitted it counted because I was a girl.”
“His loss.”
“Yeah.” She studies me for a moment. “You know, when you first accused me of betraying the club, I thought I’d never forgive you.”
The memory stings.
“I’m glad you changed your mind,” I say.
“Come on,” she says. “I’m starving and whoever’s cooking it smells amazing.”
We head to the kitchen where Martinez is making his grandmother’s recipe for carne asada. He loads up plates for us without asking, throws in extra tortillas, grins when Bonnie compliments his cooking.
We eat at the kitchen table. She tells me about her day—hours at the tattoo shop working on a complicated sleeve design, a call from Jackal who’s finally making progress recruiting for his chapter, Jamie teaching her more advanced first aid techniques.
I listen more than I talk. That’s always been my way. But with Bonnie, the silence feels comfortable instead of awkward. She doesn’t push me to fill every gap with words. Just exists in the space beside me, easy and natural.
Evening slides into night. The clubhouse empties as brothers head out for patrols or home to their families. By nine, it’s just us and a handful of members on security duty.
“Your room or mine?” Bonnie asks as we climb the stairs.
“Mine.” My room is at the end of the hall, corner position with windows facing two directions.
Inside, she kicks off her boots and stretches. I notice for the first time how tired she looks. Dark circles under her eyes, paleness to her skin that wasn’t there this morning.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Just a long day.”
“You should probably sleep. We don’t have to?—”
“No.” She crosses to me, hands sliding up my chest. “I’m fine. And I want to make the most of our time together.”
When she kisses me, I taste mint and salsa and something sweet that’s just her. My hands find her waist, pull her closer. She melts against me, all soft curves and willing heat, fingers curling into my shirt.
