His voice is low. Rough. Final.
“Get your hands off my woman.”
A beat passes.
“She’s mine.”
My brain should reject that.
Should panic atmine.
Instead, it feels right.
Heat rushes through me so fast my knees nearly give out.
Chapter 2
Blade
Theclubhouseisn’tloudlike a bar.
It’s loud like something with a pulse.
Engines outside. Music inside. Pool balls cracking. Laughter bouncing off brick and steel. Leather, whiskey, smoke soaked deep into the walls.
I sit where I can see the doors.
I always sit where I can see the doors.
Havoc’s at the head of the table, steady as stone, listening more than he talks. Sin is two seats down, a glass in his hand, eyes sharp, mind running numbers even while he pretends he’s just another guy in a cut. Tank’s leaned back, big and calm, watching everything without looking like he’s watching anything. Ghost is off to the side, half in shadow, silent the way a loaded gun is silent.
Someone cracks a joke. Viper laughs too loud. Tank snorts. Sin shakes his head like we’re all idiots and he’s the only adult in the room.
I’m not in the mood for any of it.
That’s normal.
“Blade,” Viper says, dragging my name out like he’s trying to annoy me on purpose. “You’re real talkative tonight.”
I don’t look at him.
“Eat dirt,” I say.
Viper grins. “There he is. Thought maybe you got replaced by a nicer version.”
“The only nice thing in this room would be your silence,” I tell him.
Havoc’s mouth shifts. Not a smile. Close enough.
“Enough,” Havoc says.
“Too late,” Viper shoots back.
Ghost doesn’t laugh. He rarely laughs. But his eyes shift to the door and back, like he’s tracking threat patterns in his head. Like the room is a map.
The way I like it.
Sin tips his glass toward me. “You riding tonight?”
