"James needs to understand that talking to cops about club business is a line no one crosses."
She looks down at her coffee. "James told everyone about us. About last night."
"Yes. He was trying to discredit us, make it seem like our judgment was compromised."
"Is it?" she asks softly, finally meeting my eyes again. "Compromised?"
I think of King and Luna, how they found each other during a crisis. How Tank and Amelia connected when he was protecting her from her abusive ex. How Beast and Jenny's fake relationship became real during a club emergency. How Rage found Claire when she was fleeing her Iron Eagles fiancé.How Torch discovered he was a father when Sidney showed up desperate for help.
Every couple in this club found each other through chaos and danger. Maybe that's just how it works for men like us. We're not made for normal courtships and dating rituals. We find our matches in the fire.
"No," I say firmly. "What happened between us… What I feel for you it's not about the situation. It's about you, Holly."
Her eyes widen slightly, hope flickering in their green depths. "What do you feel for me, exactly?"
It's the question I've been asking myself all day, the one I still don't have a complete answer to. But she deserves honesty, even if it's messy and uncertain.
"I don't know yet," I admit. "It's too new, too intense to label. But I know it's more than just physical. More than just one night."
"I feel the same way. Confused, but certain that there's something here worth exploring."
The simple admission lifts a weight I didn't realize I was carrying. She feels it too. This strange, powerful connection that defies the brevity of our acquaintance.
"The safe house will give us time," I say. "To figure this out, away from the chaos if James can cool down."
"I can't believe he told everyone about... that I was a virgin."
My jaw tightens at the reminder. "Your brother has a talent for making bad situations worse."
"Story of my life," she sighs. "Ever since our parents died, it's been one crisis after another with him. The gambling, the restraining orders from women he's become fixated on, the drinking..."
"You don't have to keep cleaning up his messes," I tell her, reaching across the table to take her hand. "You've done enough."
She looks down at our joined hands. "He's all the family I have left."
"Family is more than blood," I say, thinking of my brothers in the club who became my family when I had no one else. "Sometimes the family we choose is more important than the one we're born into," I continue.
Her fingers tighten around mine, a silent acknowledgment of the weight behind my words. We sit like that for a long moment, connected by touch and shared understanding, the kitchen quiet around us.
Finally, she asks, "When do we leave for this safe house?"
"Nightfall. About four hours from now." I squeeze her hand gently. "Pack light. Just essentials."
"I didn't bring much to begin with," she reminds me with a small smile. "Just what I could grab in thirty seconds."
"This time we're better prepared. The safe house also has supplies, weapons, communication equipment. We'll be okay there until the club handles Vulture."
"And after that?" she asks, the question I've been dreading. "What happens after Vulture is... dealt with?"
It's the future neither of us can see clearly yet, clouded by too many variables—her brother's debt, my commitment to the club, the vast differences in our worlds and experiences.
"One step at a time," I say. "First, we survive. Then we figure out the rest. Together."
She nods, accepting this non-answer with grace. "Together," she repeats, the word a promise and a question all at once.
I rise from my chair, still holding her hand, and come around the table to her side. She looks up at me, her green eyes wide and trusting despite everything she's learned about me and my world.
"Together," I confirm, bending to press my lips to hers in a gentle kiss that somehow feels more intimate than all we shared last night.
