“Not him personally.But his men.”Samson’s fingers tapped a restless rhythm against his mug.“It’s an escalation.Before, they were just watching.Now they’re positioning.Creating a perimeter of their own.”
The familiar cold settled in my stomach -- fear I’d lived with so long it felt like an old friend returning.I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady.“What does Beast say?”
“Club’s on high alert.We’ve doubled security at all access points.”Samson crossed to the table, settling into the chair opposite mine.“Beast thinks they might be preparing to serve the guardianship papers.Trying to pressure us before the hearing.”
I nodded, processing this.Outside, clouds were gathering on the horizon, the promise of an afternoon storm echoing the tension building around us.
“I need to move you.”Samson’s voice dropped lower.“There’s a room beneath the clubhouse.Reinforced walls, single access point.Easier to defend.”
The image hit me with unexpected force -- a room with only one exit.Locked doors.Being hidden away while men decided my fate.My breathing quickened, memories of zip ties and back-seat cages pressing against my consciousness.
“No,” I said, the word sharp and sudden between us.
Samson’s head snapped up, surprise flickering across his features.“It’s safer --”
“I’m not hiding in a bunker.”I pushed my chair back, standing as tension coiled through my body.“I’m not being locked away like something valuable but inconvenient while everyone else decides what happens to me.”
He stood as well, his height bringing his shoulders level with the top of the window behind him.“This isn’t about convenience, Callie.It’s about safety.Your safety.”
“My safety was all anyone talked about back in Riverbrook too.”I felt my voice rising despite my efforts to control it.“The chief was just ‘concerned for my safety’ when he put cameras in my apartment.When he tracked my phone.When he zip-tied my wrists ‘for my own protection.’”
Hurt flashed across Samson’s face at the comparison, but I couldn’t stop now.The dam had broken.
“I’ve spent what feels like forever running and hiding from him.”My hands shook as I spoke.“Leaving work early, changing routes home, sleeping with furniture against the door.None of it fixed the problem.None of it stopped him.”
Samson stepped toward the door, stance widening as if to block my way.“This isn’t up for debate, Callie.You’re claimed now.Your protection is my responsibility.”
The words hit like a punch.I had to remind myself this was Samson and not Chief Davis.His words didn’t mean the same thing.
“I realize that, but you claiming me shouldn’t take away my choices.It doesn’t mean you get to make all the decisions without even talking to me about it.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, his voice hard.
“Then what did you mean?”I challenged, taking a step toward him.“Because from where I’m standing, it sounds a lot like you’re making decisions about me without me.So if that’s not what this is, then explain it to me.”
The silence between us grew charged, heavy with things unsaid.Outside, the distant rumble of motorcycles punctuated the tension.
“I want to know what’s happening.Being part of the plan matters to me.Understanding the threat, the responses, the options -- I need all of it.”I raised my arms, scars visible where my sleeves had slipped back.“I’m done being a passive participant in my own life.”
Samson’s eyes dropped to my wrists, lingering on the marks telling their own story of powerlessness.Something in his expression shifted -- frustration giving way to reluctant understanding.
“Beast called a meeting,” he said finally.“War room.Half hour.”
I nodded, relief mingling with the adrenaline still coursing through my system.“I’ll be ready.”
“It won’t be pleasant,” he warned, his stance relaxing slightly.“These men don’t sugarcoat threats or responses.”
“Good,” I replied, meeting his gaze steadily.“Neither do I.”
A corner of his mouth lifted -- not quite a smile, but acknowledgment of the steel he’d found beneath my fear.He approached slowly, careful not to set off the reflexive flinch still buried in me.
When he reached me, his hands settled lightly on my shoulders, thumbs tracing small circles over my collarbones.“I’m not him.I never will be.”
“I know,” I whispered, the fight draining from me as quickly as it had risen.“But I need you to understand -- being protected can feel a lot like being controlled if no one asks what you want.”
He nodded, one hand moving to cup my cheek.“I hear you.No more decisions about you without you.”
The simple promise, spoken without hesitation, eased something wound tight in my chest since I’d first heard deputies were watching the compound.Not safety -- it still hung uncertain -- but partnership.A voice when it counted.
