Shadow
I leave Grace standing in her doorway, and it takes everything I have not to turn back.
I told her I love her.
She didn't get to respond.
But I needed her to know before walking into this meet.
Before sitting across from the men who think they own her.
The ride to the clubhouse is too short.
My mind's racing, running through scenarios, calculating threats, and preparing for whatever shitshow is about to happen.
It's what I do as enforcer—assess, plan, eliminate.
But this is different.
This is about Grace.
The clubhouse is lit up when I arrive, bikes already lined up out front.
Blaze's custom Street Glide.
Thunder's Road King.
Rogue's sleek Softail.
The list goes on and on.
All of the brothers are here, except Bravos, who’s in Florida.
I park my bike and head inside.
The main room is tense.
Phantom's at the head of the table, arms crossed, face carved from stone.
Blaze is beside him, the VP's patch on his cut catching the light.
Thunder's checking weapons—always prepared for things to go south.
Rogue's on his laptop, probably pulling up financials in case we need them.
Spur and Blight are positioned near the door. Backup.
Phantom's eyes land on me when I walk in. "Shadow. You're late."
"Got Grace and Dakota settled with Banshee first."
His expression doesn't change. "Good. They stay there. No matter what."
"Understood."
Phantom gestures to the seat beside him. "You watch them. Every move. Every word. Tell me if they're lying."
"That's what I'm here for."
