She stopped in the middle of the floor, her jaw set. “Why did he bring us to North Carolina? Why not California?” Her voice trembled, frustration laced with fear.
I let out a long breath, rubbing my tired eyes and leaning back against the headboard. “I don’t know, babe. All I do know is that King is working with Reaper and Montana to get everyone out of dodge before shit hits the fan.” There was a bitter taste in my mouth at the thought. I hated hiding, hated this sense of helplessness.
Mellie muttered, “Stupid biker war,” her words muffled as she ran a hand across her flat belly, fingers trembling. I caught atrace of fear in her eyes and, despite everything, chuckled softly—an attempt to lighten the mood that fell flat.
“Just so we’re clear,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle, “King and the others didn’t start this war. The Death Dogs did. They’re only preparing in case shit goes sideways.” My hands clenched the blanket, knuckles white. The weight of what my brothers could be facing without me pressed down on me.
She spun on me, her glare sharp as a knife. “Which it will,” she snapped, voice cracking. “And my brother and best friend are still in Nebraska.” I could hear the panic rising in her throat—her brother Gunner, the club’s sergeant at arms, was her only remaining family. And Haizley, her best friend since college, was practically her sister. Both still in the thick of danger.
“Gunner isn’t gonna let Haizley stay,” I said softly, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. My heart twisted. “Trust me, babe. When there’s a safe place for her, Gunner’s gonna tie her ass to a seat and make sure she leaves.” I pictured Gunner—big, stubborn, fiercely protective—doing exactly that.
Mellie’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “But he’s staying. Isn’t he?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and I felt her fear like a cold wind through the room.
I took a shaky breath as the silence stretched between us. “Babe, your brother is the sergeant at arms of the club—third in command after King and Cash. He has to stay.” My words felt like a death sentence. I watched her shoulders shake as she tried to hold it together, and I wished, not for the first time, that love could be enough to keep us all safe.
“Baby, come here,” I said softly, my voice gentle as I reached out for her hand once more. When she hesitated, I guided her toward me, drawing her onto the bed. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her close, feeling her body tremble as she quietly cried against my chest. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and whispered, “Everything is going to be okay.” I wantedto believe it, to make her believe it too, even as my own fears threatened to overwhelm me.
She shook her head, her voice raw with emotion. “You can’t promise that, Travis.” The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything we couldn’t control.
I rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, searching for the right words. “No, but I feel it,” I murmured, my voice steady. “I can’t explain it. I just know that when the dust settles, everything will be as it should be.”
Chapter Five
Rowen
“Unka Row?”
“Yes.” I smirked as I sat on the beach watching Danika dig for seashells. The salty breeze ruffled my hair as I watched tiny waves lap at Danika’s bare feet, her laughter mingling with the distant calls of seagulls. We had woken up early before the others, and after having our breakfast, Danika wanted to go outside and walk on the beach. Thinking nothing of it, I gathered up a pink plastic bucket and shovel for her, just in case she got bored. Despite the peaceful morning, a heaviness lingered in my chest, knowing how quickly innocent moments could be interrupted by the world’s troubles.
“What war?”
Frowning, I looked at my niece and asked, “Where did you hear that word, sweetie?” A knot formed in my stomach, the innocence of her question clashing with the seriousness of the topic.
Danika shrugged, not looking at me as she continued to dig in the sand, her small fingers sifting through grains with focused intent. Taking a deep breath, I scooted closer. “Dani, look at me.” When she did, I asked, “It’s okay, sweetie. You never have to be afraid of telling me anything. Who said that word?” My heart thudded as I waited, hoping whatever she’d heard hadn’t unsettled her too much.
She whispered, “Momma.”
My heart clenched at her answer, and I wondered what conversations she might have overheard and how much of the adult world had seeped into her understanding.
Taking a deep breath, I looked out over the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean and sighed. “War is when people fight.” My words felt heavy, as if I were inviting a storm into our tranquil morning.
“Like Momma and Papa?” she asked, looking inquisitively at me, confused. I realized she was trying to make sense of grown-up disagreements with the only word she knew—war. The realization made my heart ache for her, wishing I could shield her from the complexities of adult conflict that surrounded her life. Knowing full well she was talking about Sypher and Dr. Jefferson, I shook my head gently, offering a small, reassuring smile. “No, sweetheart. When Momma and Papa fight, that means they care very much, and sometimes that caring can be loud. War is much bigger and much meaner—it’s when people hurt each other, and it can be very sad and scary.” I watched as Danika tried to process this, her brow furrowing in concentration as she poked at the wet sand.
“Momma care lots then, ’cause she cried last night,” she said quietly.
I reached over, brushing a stray curl from Danika’s forehead, wishing I could take away the worries she shouldn’t have to carry. “Sometimes grown-ups feel sad and it comes out in tears, but that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.” My voice was gentle, hoping she would feel safe enough to share whatever else was on her mind, while another part of me wanted to throttle her mother for being so careless with her words while Danika was within earshot.
Danika nodded solemnly, her small hands pausing in the sand as she quietly absorbed my words. After a moment, she looked up, searching my face for reassurance. “Momma okay?”she asked, her voice soft and uncertain, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze.
“Yes, sweetheart. Grown-ups have hard days too, but we always find ways to get through them together.” The sun peeked through a passing cloud, casting a golden shimmer over the water, and for a brief moment, the world felt safe again when I noticed Dr. Jefferson walking over to us.
I noticed she strode over with purpose, her steps kicking up sand, and I quickly got to my feet. “I was looking for you, baby,” she said, smiling at Danika.
Without taking my eyes off her, I stepped closer and gently took her arm, steering her away from Danika’s curious gaze. My hands trembled with barely contained anger as I forced myself to keep my voice low. “You better learn to watch what you say in front of my niece, or you and I are going to have a fucking problem.”
Melissa’s eyes widened, her posture stiffening as she squared her shoulders, ready for a fight. “Excuse me?” she shot back, her glare as sharp as broken glass. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
I leaned in, my jaw tight, matching her glare. “I’m the fucking uncle who will do anything to make sure she stays innocent. She heard you crying last night. She heard you say ‘war,’ and I had to explain to a three-year-old what that meant.” The memory burned in my mind, fueling the fury behind my words.
