Today, the silence pressed in around her like a warning as Rowan stood at the kitchen sink, fingers wrapped around a mug that had long since gone cold, staring out the small window behind the bar. The sky was barely light, the sun struggling to rise, and Torque hadn’t come back yet. That alone told her everything. He had been avoiding her for weeks now, so why she expected him to have a change of heart was a mystery.
She’d known when she’d heard him leave that he was avoiding her. Torque didn’t sneak around—it just wasn’t who he was. He never had to because he never avoided anything. If the Vipers had a problem, he’d handle it head-on, but when trouble followed him out the door, it carried a different weight. It was almost as though his steps were measured, his movements wereclipped, and his bad boy persona seemed to slip. No one else noticed, but she did. Rowan had known Torque for most of her life—since they were just kids, so she knew him inside and out. Hell, she knew him better than anyone else on the planet since his parents died.
Rowan set the mug down and exhaled slowly. Her problem was that knowing Torque and knowing what to do about him were two separate things. She hadn’t grown up in this life. She really didn’t even know that things like biker clubs existed until Torque showed up on her doorstep one night, telling her that he had been elected the Iron Viper’s new Prez. He told her all about the club and the guys in it, and his excitement was palpable. She was excited for him, and when he asked her to come down to the club and introduced her as his Ol’lady, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She had been in love with Torque for most of her adult life, not that she’d ever tell him that. Having him tell the guys that she belonged to him did strange things to her heart—dangerous things. But loving the Prez of the Iron Vipers meant learning fast or getting crushed under the weight of the chaos that surrounded the club. She’d seen unforgettable things—like blood on the floors and heard gunshots that were too close for comfort. Rowan quickly learned which men to avoid and which men to trust. And she trusted Torque, even if he was currently being an ass.
He had a lot on his plate lately, and she tried to tell herself that was why he was avoiding her, but that was only partially true. Torque admitted that he was afraid of hurting her or worse, getting her killed, and that had everything to do with the war that was brewing between the Vipers and the Saints. She knew the name that haunted Torque—The Saints, and she had a sinking feeling that they were going to cost her the man she loved.
She moved through the clubhouse, keeping her head up, shoulders back. Brothers nodded as she passed—respectful, protective. Not because she belonged to them, but because she belonged to their Prez. Even if he had never touched her the way that she wanted him to, she was still his in their eyes because he announced that she was his Ol’lady. She was hands off, and the rest of the Vipers respected that. It was fine with her, really. She liked that the rest of the guys left her alone since she moved into the clubhouse and was staying in one of the apartments over the bar. They were reserved for the bikers who needed a place to crash for the night, but Torque had insisted that she take one of them after the war had started with the Saints.
That night was permanently ingrained in her mind because she had never seen Torque so scared in her life. Not even after his parents had been killed in that awful car crash. He was cryptic, only giving her details that he thought she needed—which weren’t many. Rowan knew that if Torque thought that she was in danger, then she probably was, but letting him keep her safe came with its own kind of danger—mostly to her heart.
She gave up on her cup of cold coffee and found her way into the main clubhouse, trying to decide what she wanted to do for the day. The possibilities were few since Torque had given the guys the order to keep her close and under lock and key. She was beginning to feel like a damn prisoner, even though he promised her that she wasn’t.
She almost stopped dead when she found Torque standing near the front door, helmet in hand, with his phone pressed to his ear. His posture was rigid, jaw locked so tight she could see the muscle jumping beneath his beard. Whatever he was hearing on the other end of that call was something that he didn’t like.
Rowan stopped a few feet away, waiting for him to finish. She hoped that if he saw her there waiting to talk to him, he’d actually pay some attention to her—especially with the restof the guys watching the two of them. Torque ended the call and turned, his eyes finding her instantly. The look on his face shifted—just slightly. It was enough that she knew he was trying to shield her from whatever bad news that he had just gotten. She wanted to tell him that never worked with her because she knew him too well, but telling him that now would be like yelling at a brick wall. She could see that he had put his walls back in place and that getting any answers from him would be impossible.
“You were up early,” she said quietly. She wouldn’t admit to him that she had heard him roaming the halls before dawn or that she had spied on him through her cracked door. He already looked mad enough to spit nails, and poking the bear when he was like this was a bad idea.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he replied, voice rough.
“You didn’t,” she lied, studying him. The tension rolling off him was almost visible. “They’re back, aren’t they?” Torque’s eyes darkened, and she had her answer, even if he didn’t want to say it out loud.
Rowan’s stomach dropped. “The Saints,” she continued before he could deflect. “This isn’t just club noise. I can feel it in my gut. They are back, aren’t they?”
Torque stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
She hated the way that her traitorous body leaned into him. “That’s not an answer,” she whispered back to him. His jaw flexed, the silence stretched between them—heavy and loaded.
“They made a move,” he finally said. “They hit one of our own.”
Rowan’s breath caught. “Is he?—”
“Yes,” Torque said quickly. Then, more carefully, so none of the other guys could hear him. “He’s dead.” Rowan swallowed,forcing herself to stay steady. Fear wouldn’t help. Panic wouldn’t protect anyone. She had learned that the hard way.
“They’re sending a message,” he said.
“To you?” she asked.
“To us,” Torque corrected. “To every Iron Viper, and their families. They want us all dead, and they’re letting us know it.”
Rowan looked around the clubhouse—the walls, the patches, the men who lived and breathed this life. “You won last time you fought them,” she reminded.
Torque’s mouth twisted into an evil grin, which was never a good sign. “I didn’t finish it—not like I should have.” The honesty in that admission sent a chill down her spine. She stepped closer, placing her hand on his chest, right over his heart. It was pounding hard and fast—a controlled fury barely leashed.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Torque covered her hand with his. “Now I end it—for good this time.”
Rowan met his gaze, refusing to look away. “And what about me?” For a split second, the ruthless Prez disappeared—and the man beneath him showed through. Seeing Torque like this reminded her of the boy that she had once known. She had seen less and less of him lately, but when she did, he was so damn beautiful.
“You stay here and let us protect you,” he said. “You don’t go anywhere alone. You don’t leave Viper territory without me knowing. And if I say move, you move.”
Rowan nodded. “Then you need to stop shutting me out, Torque.” He hesitated, and she tightened her fingers against his chest. “I won’t be a weakness. But I won’t blindly follow you either. I’m not one of your members, Torque. You’re going to have to stop ignoring me and let me in at some point.”
Something shifted in his eyes—respect, maybe, or acceptance. “All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep you in the loop, Rowan, but that’s all I can promise you right now. Anything more might end up getting you killed.”
The sound of engines roaring to life outside broke the moment before she could protest. Church was forming. War was gearing up, and every bad feeling that she had had earlier that morning came roaring to life.
