I walk Charlie to the grass area, trying to stay invisible, trying not to think about the fact that in less than twelve hours, my husband is riding into a fight that could end with him dead.
"Grace?"
I turn.
A woman is walking toward me—maybe late twenties, beautiful in that effortless way some women have.
I can’t see her face because the sun is shining right in my eyes, but when she gets closer, she comes into view.
Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, leather jacket over a tank top, jeans that fit like they were made for her.
Siren, my brother’s wife.
"Hey."
Siren's smile is warm but edged with something sharp.
She's assessing me, I can tell. Sizing me up.
"Shiv said you were stirring up some ruckus." She looks me over, takes in Shadow's hoodie, the way I'm favoring my left side. "Fresh ink?"
I nod. "Yesterday. Ribs."
"Let me guess—Shadow's name? Cattle brand style?"
"How did you?—"
Siren grins. "Because that's exactly what I'd do if I was marking myself for a man like that. Plus, Shiver mentioned it." She gestures toward the clubhouse. "The guys are doing their thing, planning the meet, talking strategy. Thought you might want some company. Us girls could make breakfast for the brothers. Give us something to do besides sit around worrying."
I hesitate. "I don't want to be in the way."
"You won't be. Come on. Charlie can come too."
The clubhouse kitchen is bigger than I expected—industrial, set up to feed dozens.
Siren moves around it like she owns the place, pulling out eggs, bacon, and bread.
"Does any of this ever get easier?" I ask, trying to make conversation.
"Yes and no, some days are better or worse than others." Siren cracks eggs into a massive bowl. "But I wouldn’t trade it for the world." She laughs, but there's affection in it. "Your brother is intense. But I'm guessing you know that."
"Yeah. I remember."
Siren glances at me. "You okay? With all of this?"
"I don't know." Honest answer. "I'm scared. But I'm trying not to show it."
"Fuck that." Siren's voice is sharp, direct. "Be scared. You're allowed to be scared. That Flint asshole threatened to cage you like an animal. That image in itself will fuel nightmares."
I blink, surprised by her bluntness.
Siren keeps cooking, unbothered. "But here's the thing about being an ol’ lady in this life—you get to be scaredandstrong at the same time. You don't have to choose. You get to trust your man to handle the violence while you handle your own shit."
"What's my shit?" I ask quietly.
"Surviving. Supporting. Showing everyone you chose this life, chose him, and you're not backing down." Siren looks at me. "Shadow's going to kill Flint tonight. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
