“I could say the same,” I mutter darkly, already moving.
I grab her by the upper arm and march her towards where my bike is parked behind the pub. She lets out a soft laugh, like this is all some amusing detour in her day.
“Hey,” she says lightly, “relax.”
I spin on her so fast, she stumbles half a step. I catch her jacket in my fist and slam her back against the brick wall, my face inches from hers.
“Relax?” I repeat, my voice low and shaking with contained fury. “You turn up here—here—when I’m trying to convince my pregnant old lady I’m safe to be around again, and you want me to relax?”
Her eyes flicker for just a second. It’s the only tell she gives that I’ve surprised her.
She pulls her arm free, smoothing her jacket like I didn’t just pin her to a wall. She straightens and lifts her chin, and when she looks back at me, it’s all ice and authority.Just like her father.
“Maybe,” she says coolly, “you’re forgetting the chain of command.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “There is no chain of command here.”
Her lips press together, irritation flashing now. “You work for my father.”
“I workwithhim,” I correct, stepping closer again. “And I told you—I told him—I’m taking some time out. There will be no new routes, no new containers. I’m done.”
“You don’t get to be done,” she snaps. “You made the agreement with my father, and there’s absolutely no way you’re walking away.”
“My club isn’t your delivery service.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Funny. Last I checked, you were very good at getting things from A to B.”
“That was before,” I growl. “Before you dragged your shit into my life.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re emotional. That makes you sloppy.”
“You go anywhere near Eden,” I warn quietly, every word vibrating with threat, “and I will burn every bridge your father has ever built. I don’t care who it hurts.”
Something hardens in her gaze.
“So, she’s the weakness,” Anika murmurs. “Good to know.”
My fist clenches. “I’m serious, Anika. She’s not like us. She’s innocent in all this.”
She steps closer now, unfazed. “Then stop all this talk of ending our connections. Let’s not do anything drastic to upset my father, and everything can tick along quietly.”
I lean in, my voice a whisper meant only for her. “You picked the wrong man to try and threaten.”
She smiles again, but this time, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll see.”
I stop beside my bike and stare.
Fuck.
I glance back towards the pub without meaning to. Windows. Doors. Faces that could appear at any second.
Martha . . . or worse, Eden.
If she sees Anika—if she seesmewith Anika—whatever fragile ground I’ve clawed back will collapse completely. No explanations. No fixing it. Just another confirmation that I’m not safe, not honest, and still very much bringing danger to her doorstep.
My chest tightens.
I don’t want Anika anywhere near my bike.
