“And most important,” Cyclops said, leaning his hands on the table, “we prepare for a full breach, because her father isn’t gonna stop until he gets what he wants.”
Venom scowled. “Then we make damn sure he never gets close enough to take her.”
Razor pounded his fist on the table. “I’m in.”
Ink raised his beer. “Let’s raise some hell.” The brothers all murmured their agreement, low and fierce. Cyclops straightened, letting their loyalty settle into his bones like armoraround him. He looked at Trixie. Her eyes were wide. She wasn’t scared—more like overwhelmed. He knew that no one had ever chosen to stand for her before, and it seemed to be all too much for her to digest.
She whispered, “You’re risking everything for me.”
“Worth it,” Cyclops said without hesitation. He dipped his head and hesitated, knowing that the room was still full of his men watching them.
Ink groaned. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, just kiss her already.” Cyclops shot him a lethal look. But Trixie smiled. For the first time, she really smiled. And Cyclops felt something dangerous settle in his chest. He didn’t just want to protect her. He wanted her—all of her. He was already in too deep, and he didn’t want out. Not now. Not ever. And even though that should have scared the hell out of him, it didn’t.
TRIXIE
The morning’s meeting left a weight on Trixie’s chest that she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but something much heavier. It was something unfamiliar; something that felt dangerously close to belonging. But that was ridiculous. Sure, Cyclops said that she belonged to him now, after what happened between the two of them last night, but maybe he was just putting on a show for the guys. He did seem to like to do that, and if that was all it was, she didn’t want to let her heart take over her thinking. She still had to deal with her father, and she knew one thing for sure—he was coming for her whether she liked it or not.
She followed Cyclops out of the main room and into the quieter hallway beyond the compound office. The hum of voices behind them faded, replaced by the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and the distant sound of Razor shouting orders outside. She didn’t feel safer. In fact, she felt even more exposed.
Cyclops slowed his stride once they were alone, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking,” she said. That was the truth because all she seemed to be able to do was think since they got to the compound.
He smirked. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That people who think too much start planning escape routes,” he said.
Heat rose to her face—half irritation, half embarrassment. “You don’t know that.” He had hit the nail on the head, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“Yes, I do,” he countered.
She crossed her arms. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”
“No,” he said. “But I know the look of someone who’s spent their whole life fighting alone.” He wasn’t wrong. She hated that he wasn’t wrong.
They reached a quieter wing that seemed to be newer construction, with thicker walls and fewer windows. He stopped outside a steel-reinforced door and punched in a code.
“This is where you’ll stay,” he said, pushing it open. She stepped past him into the room and looked around. It wasn’t a cell, it wasn’t a bunker, it was nice. The room was simple and clean. It had all the necessities—a bed, a dresser, and even a bathroom. A huge window that overlooked the tree line covered the right-hand side of the room. It even smelled faintly like laundry soap.
“You didn’t have to move me,” she murmured.
Cyclops leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Yeah, I did.”
She swallowed. “Why?”
“Because what happened between us last night changes how people see you,” he breathed.
Her stomach twisted. “Because you and I?—”
“Because you’re important to me,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “And important people need to be guarded.” Her heart stuttered. She wasn’t used to being called important. She wasn’t used to being anything but a liability—unless she was convenient to her father’s plans. But last night, Cyclops looked at her like she was something worth choosing, like something worth fighting for. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles ached. He watched her like he already knew what storm brewed behind her eyes.
“Say what’s on your mind,” he said.
She shook her head. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“Try me,” he insisted.
