I whirled around, startled to find Butch approaching with Bear and two other club members I didn't recognize. My body tensed instinctively, ready to bolt, but Rooster's steady presence beside me kept me grounded.
"Kid's got a special way of finding them," Rooster explained, gesturing toward me with surprising pride in his voice. "Works with the plants somehow. They tell him where to look."
Butch's eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn't question the explanation. Instead, he nodded toward the devices Rooster had collected. "These match what you drew in your sketches. Impressive eye for detail."
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. Observation wasn't a skill I'd developed by choice—it was a necessity for survival. When your life depends on spotting threats before they spot you, you learn to notice everything.
"We'll follow your lead," Butch continued, addressing me directly. "Just show us where to dig."
The next hour passed in a blur of activity as I led the group around the remaining perimeter, pointing out the buried devices one by one. The men worked efficiently, following my gestures without question, digging where I indicated and carefully collecting each tracker we found. By the time we unearthed the final device, the sun was setting, painting the western sky in shades of orange and crimson.
"Twelve," Rooster confirmed, laying out our collection on an oil cloth spread across the hood of a truck. "Just like your drawing showed."
I nodded, a small measure of satisfaction warming my chest at having successfully mapped the entire surveillance network. For the first time in my life, my strange ability had served a purpose beyond my individual survival. I'd helped protect others—this makeshift family of shifters who had unknowingly sheltered me on the edges of their territory.
Butch studied the devices with narrowed eyes before gathering them into a metal box. "We'll need to examine these more closely, figure out exactly how they work. But they stay contained until then—no telling if they can still transmit our location even when removed."
The others nodded in agreement, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. They were taking the threat seriously, preparing to defend themselves. Maybe they'd have a chance against whatever was coming tomorrow.
As the group turned to head back toward the clubhouse, Butch paused beside me. "You should stay with us tonight," he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious. "Whatever's coming tomorrow, you're safer inside our walls than out there on your own."
The suggestion hit me like a physical blow, stopping me in my tracks. Stay? Inside? The very thought made my chest tighten with anxiety. The clubhouse meant walls, doors, limited escape routes. It meant sleeping somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere I couldn't disappear from in seconds if danger approached.
For fifteen years, I'd survived by staying mobile, by never sleeping in the same place twice if I could help it. The forest had been my refuge, its countless hiding spots and secret paths my security system. The thought of abandoning that proven survival strategy for the uncertain protection of brick walls and locked doors felt like stepping off a cliff into darkness.
I glanced toward the trees beyond the fence line—my escape route, my safety net, my home for as long as I could remember. The plants there seemed to sense my indecision, their leaves rustling gently despite the still evening air. A silent acknowledgment of the choice before me.
Then I looked at Rooster, standing a few feet away, watching me with those patient eyes that had never demanded, never pressured, never expected anything in return for his kindness. He'd fed me for months without asking questions. He'd respected my boundaries even after discovering I was his mate. He'd believed me about the devices without hesitation.
My hands trembled at my sides as the internal battle raged—instinct versus possibility, isolation versus connection, the familiar forest versus this man who looked at me like I mattered.
"Your choice, kid," Rooster said softly, as if reading my thoughts. "No one's gonna force you to stay if you need to go."
And that, perhaps, was what finally tipped the balance. The simple acknowledgment of my freedom to choose, the respect for my autonomy that I'd never been granted before—not by my parents, not by the street gangs, not by anyone until this red-haired cook with the gentle hands and bottomless patience.
I took a deep breath, my golden eyes darting once more toward the forest that had been my only true home. The trees seemed to sway slightly, branches bending in what almost looked like a gesture of farewell. Or perhaps encouragement.
Choose-path. Choose-strength.
With a decision that felt momentous in its simplicity, I took a step forward—not toward the trees and the security of isolation, but toward Rooster and the terrifying uncertainty of belonging. One step became two, then three, until I stood beside him, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.
I didn't know if I was making the right choice. Didn't know if I could ever fully trust these people, this place. Didn't know if I could overcome fifteen years of conditioning that screamed at me to run, hide, survive alone.
But as the setting sun cast long shadows across the compound and Rooster's face broke into a smile that warmed something cold and lonely inside me, I thought that maybe—just maybe—this was what it felt like to come home.
Chapter Ten
~ Rooster ~
I sat on the edge of my bed, watching Liam move around my room like he was exploring uncharted territory. Every step was calculated, every glance assessing potential threats or escape routes.
It was strange seeing someone else in this space—my private sanctuary away from the chaos of the clubhouse.
Strange, but not unwelcome.
My bear rumbled contentedly inside me at the sight of my mate exploring our den, even as I forced myself to remain perfectly still. The last thing I wanted was to spook him after he'd finally decided to stay.
His slender fingers trailed along my dresser, hesitating over a framed photograph I kept there. It was the whole club, taken after a successful charity run last year. We were all grinning like idiots, arms thrown around each other's shoulders, our cuts gleaming with patches in the summer sun.
