"You stay away from her," I snarl in his face.
Flint's crew reaches for weapons. My brothers do the same. A complete standoff.
But I don't care. All I can see is Flint's smug face, all I can think about is him watching Grace, following her, thinking about her.
"Shadow!" Phantom's voice cuts through the rage. "Stand down!"
I don't move. My hands tighten.
"That's an order, enforcer!"
The word enforcer hits me like cold water.
I release Flint, step back.
He staggers, coughing, but he's grinning.
"Forty-eight hours," he rasps. "Then we come collect what we're owed. And enforcer?" His eyes meet mine. "We're taking her. One way or another."
The Copperhead Kings file out, and I stand there breathing hard, watching them go.
I just showed my hand. Showed my weakness. Gave them exactly what they needed to know.
Grace is my vulnerability, and they're going to exploit it.
The sound of the clubhouse door closing is like a gunshot.
Then it's just us. The Shotgun Saints. Brothers.
And Phantom, who's looking at me like he doesn't recognize me anymore.
"My office," he says, his voice deadly calm. "Now."
I've been in Phantom's office a hundred times. A thousand. For club business, for assignments, for strategy sessions.
But never like this.
Never with him looking at me like I'm a traitor.
He closes the door, and for a long moment, we just stand there.
Me at attention, him behind his desk, the space between us filled with nine years of loyalty that I just set on fire.
"How long?" His voice is quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.
"A bit, Prez. The number doesn’t matter.."
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"I was going to. After the threat was handled."
Phantom laughs, bitter and sharp. "Bullshit. You were hiding it. Lying to my face every time I asked you to protect her."
I can't deny it. "Yes."
"Does she know?" His eyes bore into me. "Does Grace know you're... what, using her?"
My voice goes hard. "I'm not using her. I love her."
