I barely recognize her.
Her face is a mess of fresh bruises, one eye already swelling shut. Blood mats her hair on one side, and she moves like every step costs her. But her arms are locked tight around a small figure pressed against her chest.
A child. A little girl with dark hair and huge eyes, clutching a stuffed rabbit like her life depends on it.
My stomach drops. My hand flies to my mouth before I can stop it.
Oh God. Oh, Isabel.
This is what she was running back to. This is why she was so desperate, why she couldn’t stay, why she fought Stone so hard on that one-night deal. Not stubbornness. Not secrets. A little sister trapped in a house with a monster.
And I let her go alone.
Guilt twists in my chest, sharp and ugly. I should have pushed harder. Should have seen past my own pain and exhaustion to what she was hiding. I’m a goddamn lawyer—I’m supposed to read people. I’m supposed to help.
Instead, I was tangled up in Stone while she walked back into hell.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
Isabel’s gaze finds mine across the room. Something passes between us—recognition, understanding.
This is what I was protecting. This is why I couldn’t stay,she seems to say.
“Josie.” Stone appears beside me, his hand on my arm. “You should be in bed.”
“Later.” I shake him off, already moving forward. “What do you need? What can I do?”
“She needs a doctor,” Brick says. His voice is flat, but his eyes track Isabel’s every movement. “The kid needs food and a bed.”
“We can do that.” Maggie is already in motion. “Ginger, get my kit. Emma, see if we have anything a child would eat. If not, run across the street and grab something from Andi. Kya—towels and blankets.”
The clubhouse erupts into organized chaos. Women moving with purpose, men clearing space, everyone falling into roles like they’ve done this a hundred times before.
I find a spot against the wall, out of the way but close enough to watch.
Isabel has been deposited on the couch, Maggie working on her injuries with quick, efficient hands. She hasn’t let go of Lily—the little girl is curled in her lap, face buried against her chest, the rabbit clutched between them.
“This is going to sting,” Maggie warns, dabbing at a cut on Isabel’s forehead.
Isabel doesn’t flinch. Just holds Lily tighter.
“The ribs?” Maggie asks.
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not comforting, honey.”
Emma appears with a plate—peanut butter sandwich, apple slices, a glass of milk. She crouches down next to the couch, her voice soft.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”
Lily peeks out from Isabel’s chest. Her eyes are red, her cheeks tear-stained, but she looks at the sandwich with obvious longing.
“It’s okay, baby,” Isabel murmurs. “You can eat.”
Lily hesitates. Then she reaches out and takes an apple slice, nibbling it like a little mouse.
Emma smiles. “There’s more where that came from. As much as you want.”
