This time she doesn’t argue. She dives inside, locks the doors, shaking so hard I can see it through the windshield.
The driver guns the engine.
I grab the first bastard by the collar and haul him up just long enough to get in his ear. “Tell your preacher,” I say low and vicious, “she ain’t easy.”
Then I throw him into the open door and slam it.
The SUV tears out of the lot, tires squealing, the whole thing gone in seconds like they were never there.
Brittany sits in her car hyperventilating. Hands on the wheel. Mouth open. Eyes wild.
I step back into shadow before she looks up.
She doesn’t see me.
She throws the car into reverse too fast and peels out of the lot like the devil’s on her bumper.
I follow at a distance.
Just like I promised. Until she’s home. My brothers are camping out in the next yard watching the movements.
Later that night she storms into the Lockup like she’s made of fire and bruised pride.
The place is loud, the bass rattling the walls like Hell’s heartbeat. A few brothers glance up when she comes in, surprised to see her here without Lottie or Holler flanking her. Royal is in the corner, black hoodie up, eyes sharp. Legend’s at a table with Whiskey and Derby, talking low.
Brittany heads straight for me at the bar and slams her hands on the wood hard enough to make my drink jump.
“You’ve been watching me?” she asks.
I keep my face blank. “Maybe.” Holler said she didn’t want me to but he ain’t the boss of me.
She leans in, eyes bright with fury and fear tangled together. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me.”
The room quiets in that dangerous way, like everyone pretends not to listen while they listen harder.
“I told you I don’t want you rescuing me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to owe you.”
“You don’t,” I answer.
Her eyes search my face like she’s trying to find the truth through the mask. “You always show up,” she says, almost accusing.
“Then stop needing me.”
That lands like a slap and I see it hit, see the hurt flash across her eyes. Good.
Because if she hates me, she lives longer.
“Stay out of it,” she whispers. “I’ll handle it.”
I nod once. “Fine.”
I mean it in front of everyone. I back off in front of everyone. I give her exactly what she asked for, because what she asked for might be the only thing that keeps her alive.
Legend’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Oaks. Office. Now.”
He doesn’t waste time. The warden’s office at the back of the Lockup still smells like old paper and old violence, like menmade plans in here that ruined lives. Legend shuts the door and looks at me like he’s weighing the cost of me.
“Pearly Gates just made a move,” he says.
