The silence stretches for several heartbeats before conversations slowly resume around us, but I'm still trapped somewhere between the present and the past. My hands won't stop shaking. Panic pulled me under and I can't seem to find my way back to the surface.
"Cami." Wrath's voice is completely different now—gentle, careful, like he's approaching a wounded animal. "You okay?"
I want to say yes. I want to pretend I'm fine, strong, and not completely wrecked by something as simple as an aggressive man in my space. But the lie won't come. Instead, I nod, wrapping my arms tighter around myself as if I can hold the pieces together through sheer will. My breath still comes too fast, too shallow.
"Come here." It's not an invitation, but a command.
I take a shaky step toward him, then another, until I'm close enough that his presence surrounds me like a shield.
He doesn't touch me, doesn't crowd me the way Bulldog did. Instead, he just stands there like an immovable wall between me and anything that might hurt me. The silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. He's not demanding I be okay, not rushing me to recover. Just...waiting. Like he has all the time in the world for me to breathe right again.
"He's gone," Wrath says quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "Won't bother you again."
I believe him. Despite barely knowing this man, despite the violence I just witnessed, I believe him completely.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, shame burning in my cheeks. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just…when he…it?—"
"Don't." His voice is firm but still gentle. "Don't apologize for being scared of an asshole who can't take a hint. And don't apologize for having bad memories triggered by someone too stupid to recognize trauma when he sees it."
The understanding in his voice stops my breath. He knows. Somehow, this man knows what just happened to me.
"Why don't you come help me behind the bar, hon?” Trix appears at my elbow, her voice carefully casual. "It's quieter back there."
Grateful for the escape from curious eyes, I nod and follow her around the long bar. But I can feel Wrath watching me every step of the way.
The work behind the bar is soothing and Trix keeps up easy conversation, explaining the job as well as the rhythm of the club's daily life. The mechanical nature of the tasks helps ground me, pulling me back to the present.
But my eyes keep drifting to the room beyond, watching the easy interaction between men who call each other brothers.
Family. That's what this is. Not the blood-related nightmare I escaped from, but chosen family bound together by loyalty instead of DNA.
And, even though I should know better by now, some desperate, stupid part of me longs to know what it might feel like to belong here.
Chapter 4
Wrath
Tank's face tells me it's bad news before he opens his mouth.
"Three Iron Serpents in our territory this afternoon." He keeps his voice low, but every man at the table hears him. "At the diner where Cami worked. Asking questions."
The pen in my hand snaps. Ink bleeds across the page.
"What kind of questions?"
"The specific kind. Where she went, who she knew, what shifts she worked, how long she's been gone." Tank's jaw tightens. "Left the waitress a fifty and said they'd be back if she remembered anything useful."
My vision narrows to a pinpoint. The bar noise fades to white static.
Steel's hand lands on my shoulder. "Breathe, brother."
I'm already moving. Chair hits the floor behind me.
"When?"
"Two hours ago."
Two hours. While I sat here shuffling papers like some corporate fuck, a rival club was building a file on her. Why? What the fuck do the Iron Serpents want with her? While we’ve never been allies, we haven’t been enemies either. We’resupposed to meet with them to negotiate trade routes through their territory in a few days. Are they doing homework? Looking for possible weaknesses? Seems unlikely.
