And that terrifies me.
“You don’t have to stand out here,” he says, his voice low, his gloved hands resting on my hips like he’s memorizing me. “Queenie’ll have your ass inside any second.”
“I wanted to say goodbye,” I reply, forcing a small smile.
His jaw tightens. “Em,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. “We’ll be careful.”
I huff out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You’re going hunting for a man who’s already killed at least two people.”
Even though Onyx and his brothers try and keep club business away from us, there’s no way we could not know what’s happening. Yesterday, they found two bodies and the cops were called in. One was confirmed as Brennan’s missing ex. Found dumped like trash, her name already splashed across the localnews. The other body is still waiting on identification, but the signs point the same way. It’s probably the girlfriend from college.
Onyx’s hands tighten just a fraction. “That’s exactly why we’re going. I can’t stop thinking that you might have been number three if I hadn’t gotten to your cabin in time.”
I search his eyes, they’re dark and steady. I hate this part of him—the part that will walk straight into hell if it means making sure someone else doesn’t have to. I love it too, and that contradiction sits heavy in my chest.
“I don’t want you getting hurt,” I whisper.
He tips his helmet up just enough to press a kiss to my forehead. “I won’t.”
He doesn’t sayI can’t. He’s not stupid enough to promise that. He just says it like a decision he’s already made. I’ve archived enough of the club’s history to know that Sons of Rage are a force to be reckoned with—but it still doesn’t calm the anxiety churning in my stomach.
Behind him, engines rev louder. Jasper calls something out. Slate laughs, sharp and brief. The men look ready. Dangerous. Controlled.
I swallow. “The club’s on lockdown.”
“Yeah,” he says. “If Brennan circles back, it’ll be here. Or he’ll try to draw us out using you.”
A chill skates down my spine. I nod anyway.
“I’ll stay put,” I say. “I promise.”
Onyx studies my face like he’s committing it to memory, then nods once. “You do that, darlin’. Hopefully, we’ll get the fucker soon and we can all start livin’ again.”
“Be safe,” I say.
He straightens, helmet lowering back into place. “I’ll be back.”
I watch him mount his bike, the engine roaring to life beneath him, and for one awful second, I want to scream at him not to go. To stay. To choose me over vengeance, over justice, over whatever this hunt really is, but I know he can’t. That’s not who he is.
Instead, I step back and let him ride away with his brothers.
Only when the last bike disappears down the road do I let myself breathe again.
***
The clubhouse feels strange without them. Even though it’s been the same routine for the past month, today it seems different. Maybe it’s the discovery of the bodies yesterday that’s finally made it real.
It’s no longer a game.
The women move around the kitchen, their voices low but steady, like routine itself is an anchor. I retreat to mine and Onyx’s room, closing the door softly behind me.
Our room.
The thought still feels unreal sometimes.
I move through my morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Teeth. I’m halfway through buttoning my jeans when a wave of nausea hits me so suddenly, I have to sit down.
I breathe through it, one hand pressed to my stomach.
