Two Prospects stood guard at the clubhouse entrance, hands resting casually near concealed weapons.Their posture suggested routine, but their eyes remained too alert, too watchful for normal security.Something had changed in the past twenty-four hours.
I veered away from the main entrance, not wanting to intrude on whatever business brought twice the usual security to the clubhouse doors.Instead, I circled toward the side of the building, drawn by the sound of voices drifting through an open window.Beast’s deep rumble carried clearly in the morning air.
“-- filed the papers yesterday.Emergency hearing.”
Another voice responded, too low to make out clearly.Then: “-- couldn’t just be a random obsession.He’s using this to --”
I froze, heart hammering against my ribs.Though I couldn’t make out every word, the gravity in their tones told me everything I needed to know.Chief Davis wasn’t just looking for me anymore.He was using the system -- the same system that had failed me before.
“-- property seizure if they can prove --” The voice faded as someone moved away from the window.
My fingers traced the healing marks on my wrists, the zip tie scars still raised and tender beneath my touch.Guilt rose like bile in my throat.I’d brought this to their door -- legal threats, police interest, community suspicion.Everything Samson and the Kings had carefully avoided for decades now focused directly on them because of me.
The clubhouse door opened suddenly, and I stepped back, nearly colliding with a stack of empty kegs beside the building.Salvation emerged, papers clutched in one hand, his expression troubled until he registered my presence.Surprise flashed across his face, followed immediately by an unconvincing mask of casual calm.
“Callie,” he said, recovering quickly.“Didn’t see you there.”
I forced a smile I didn’t feel.“Just getting some air.Everything okay?”
He glanced down at the papers in his hand, then quickly folded them and tucked them into his cut.“Yeah, sure.Just some paperwork stuff.Club business.”His attempt at reassurance fell spectacularly flat, undermined by the worry lines creasing his forehead.
“Anything I should know about?”I pressed gently.
Salvation’s eyes darted toward the open window, then back to me.“Nah, just boring legal shit.Beast has it handled.”He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable.“You need anything?Samson around?”
“He’s working on a bike at the garage,” I replied, watching his reactions carefully.“Said he’d be done around noon.”
Salvation nodded, taking a step toward the path.“Cool, cool.I should get these to Wire.Um, you may not have met him.He’s a visitor who’s really damn good with computers.You good?Need an escort back to the cabin?”
The offer might have seemed casual to an outsider, but I recognized the protective intent behind it.Not just courtesy -- protocol.Had Samson said something to him about keeping me safe?
“I’m fine,” I assured him.“Just walking.”
“Right.Well.”He took another step back.“Stay within the inner perimeter, yeah?Just… better that way right now.”
Before I could respond, he was moving away, stride purposeful but tense.I watched him cross to the tech building, noting how his eyes constantly scanned the compound boundaries as he walked.
I continued my walk, a new heaviness settling over my shoulders.Two Prospects I hadn’t seen before patrolled the eastern fence line, radios clipped to their belts, hands never far from concealed weapons.Someone wearing another club’s colors -- Viking, I’d heard him called -- checked camera positions near the main gate, his movements methodical and precise.Preparing.
Near the communal garden, three women gathered, their conversation animated until they noticed my approach.Their voices dropped immediately, smiles growing fixed and artificial.One -- Lyssa, Beast’s wife -- broke away from the group to intercept me.
“Callie,” she greeted, her smile warm but her eyes assessing.“How are you feeling?Those wrists healing up okay?”
“Better.”I resisted the urge to hide my scarred wrists.“Thank you for the salve.It helped with the itching.”
She nodded, glancing back at the women still watching us.“Good.Let me know if you need anything else.”She hesitated, then added, “Samson around?”
The same question Salvation had asked.Not coincidence.
“At the garage,” I repeated, forcing my voice to remain casual.“Is everything all right?”
“Of course,” she answered too quickly.“Just club stuff.You know how it is.”She touched my arm lightly.“Stay close to the cabins today, okay?Weather report says storms might roll in later.”
The sky above us stretched clear and blue, not a cloud in sight.I nodded anyway, accepting the transparent excuse for what it was -- another warning, another boundary drawn to keep me safe.
As I headed back toward Samson’s cabin, realization pressed down on me with each step.I’d known Chief Davis was coming for me, but all the activity made me think he was coming sooner rather than later.Had they received something indicating the man was already making his move?
My hand drifted to my wrist again, fingers tracing the scars that would never fully fade.Physical reminders of captivity, of control, of someone who believed he owned me.I thought I’d escaped, but I’d only transferred the danger to people who’d shown me kindness when no one else would.
