“I know.”
The way he said it, low and certain, scraped against her resolve.She hated that part of her liked it.
They parked near the general store and the small art supply shop tucked beside it.Ivy grabbed her bag and opened the door before he could say anything else.
“I’ll be quick,” she said.“You don’t need to hover.”
Havoc sighed, long and heavy.“I need smokes anyway.”He nodded toward the general store.“Five minutes.”
She paused, then nodded.“Fine.”
They split, the space between them feeling larger than it should have.
The art store smelled like paper, wood, and pigment.What a familiar and lovely scent.Ivy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stepped inside, the bell over the door chiming softly behind her.
The walls were lined with canvases and sketch pads, shelves crowded with paint tubes and jars of brushes.It felt like stepping into neutral ground.A place untouched by club politics and leather cuts.
She wandered slowly.She let her fingers graze familiar brands, mentally ticking off what she needed.More acrylics.A wider brush for blending.A new pencil set.She was comparing two shades of blue when she felt it.
A prickle between her shoulders.It took her a second to pinpoint the feeling.She was being watched.She took deep breaths.Ivy didn’t react at first.She’d learned long ago not to jump at every flicker of instinct.
Still, when she shifted a step to the side and felt the sensation follow, she straightened her spine.She glanced up, catching her reflection in the small mirror mounted at the end of the aisle.
At first, all she saw was herself with her paint-smudged fingers and focused eyes.A woman trying to decide between brands of charcoal.
Then the mirror gave her more.Behind her, just enough to confirm the uneasy prickle crawling up her spine, stood a man.He had broad shoulders, wore a leather vest and a cut she didn’t recognize.He wasn’t a member of the Devil’s Crown MC.
He wasn’t pretending to browse.There was no distracted wandering, no half-hearted interest in the shelves.His attention was locked on her, eyes dark and assessing, mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile and definitely wasn’t friendly.
Ivy’s stomach tightened.She shifted, stepping into the next aisle as if she’d simply remembered something she needed.Her heart picked up pace, thudding harder with each step.She counted them without meaning to.One.Two.Three.Ground yourself.Don’t panic.
She stopped midway down the aisle and reached for a pack of charcoal sticks she didn’t need, lifting them and studying the label like it held the secrets of the universe.Her pulse roared in her ears.
The faint scrape of boots sounded behind her.He followed but kept his distance, as if he took pains not to brush close enough against her or cause a scene.Still, his intention was unmistakable.He wanted her to know he was there, watching, tracking her movements with slow patience.
The space suddenly felt smaller and the air heavier.She curled her fingers around the phone in her pocket, knuckles tightening until she forced them to relax.She pulled it out, screen lighting up like a tiny lifeline.Havoc’s name sat right there, recent and familiar.
You’re overreacting, a rational voice tried to insist.It’s a store.Public place.Daytime.Another voice, older and sharper, whispered danger.She typed fast, pulse stuttering.
Can you come here?There’s a guy—
Before she could hit send, the bell over the door chimed and the sound cut through the tension like a blade.Heavy footsteps crossed the shop, unhurried and sure.The atmosphere shifted instantly, like pressure dropping before a storm.Ivy’s shoulders loosened before her mind could catch up.
She didn’t need to look.It was Havoc.His presence hit her like gravity, sudden and grounding.Warmth spread through her chest, chased by a rush of relief so strong it made her dizzy.The constant hum of unease snapped, replaced by something steadier, stronger.
She turned just as he stopped beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers.He felt so solid and real.Havoc angled his body slightly, instinctively placing himself between her and the aisle behind her.
His gaze slid past her, and he narrowed his eyes at the other biker, who froze.For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the three of them.The low hum of fluorescent lights overhead.The distant murmur of the clerk chatting on the phone near the counter.Ivy’s pulse pounding hard enough she wondered if they could hear it.
Recognition sparked in the biker’s eyes.
His grin widened, slow and deliberate, like he was enjoying himself far too much.He lifted two fingers in a lazy wave, casual as a man greeting an old friend at a bar.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawled.“If it isn’t Havoc, Road Captain of the Devil’s Crown MC.”
Havoc didn’t move and he didn’t speak either.Still, Ivy felt the shift in him.The way his muscles tightened, coiling beneath skin and leather.The subtle repositioning of his feet.The way he angled himself closer to her, blocking her from view without making a show of it.His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping once, twice.
“Get lost,” Havoc said quietly.
