And honestly, the four walls of this room are starting to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a different kind of cage.
"Fine," I say. "Give me ten minutes."
The main room is different during the day.
Without the press of bodies, the haze of smoke, the pounding music, it's almost... homey.
Worn leather couches arranged around a battered coffee table.
A pool table in the corner, cues racked neatly on the wall.
A bar along one side, bottles gleaming in the afternoon light.
Photos on the walls—group shots of the club, some dating back decades, chronicling the history of the Saint's Outlaws.
Paige is already there, curled up on one of the couches with a cup of coffee.
She waves when she sees me, her smile warm and welcoming.
"You made it," she says. "I was starting to think Tawny would have to drag you down here by your hair."
"She threatened to." I settle onto the couch across from her, tucking my legs beneath me. "Is it always this quiet?"
"During the day, mostly. The brothers are usually out handling business. It picks up at night." Paige takes a sip of her coffee. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. I think." I pause, searching for the right words. "It's strange. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something bad to happen. And when it doesn't..."
"You don't know what to do with yourself," Tawny finishes, dropping onto the couch beside Paige. "Yeah. That's normal. When you've been living in survival mode for so long, peace feels wrong. Like you're forgetting something important."
"How do you know that?"
Tawny and Paige exchange a look.
"We've all got our stories," Tawny says finally. "Mine's not the same as yours. But it's similar enough." She shrugs, picking at a thread on the couch cushion. "The club... it's not perfect. But it's safe. The brothers look out for us. And the girls look out for each other."
"Even though we're just..." I hesitate, not wanting to use the word.
"Clubwhores?" Tawny laughs, but there's no bitterness in it. "Yeah, even then. Look, I know what people think of women like us. We fuck bikers, we hang around hoping to land an ol' lady spot, we're trash. Whatever." She waves a dismissive hand. "But this is family. Fucked up, dysfunctional family, sure. But family. And family takes care of its own."
The words settle into me, warm and unexpected. Family.
I haven't felt like I belonged to a family in a long time.
My mother loves me, but I pushed her away to protect her from Cain.
My father exists somewhere on the periphery, more concept than reality.
And Cain's version of family was a prison cell with bars made of fists and cruel words.
This is different. This feels... real.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For being kind to me. You didn't have to."
"Yeah, well." Tawny's voice is gruff, but her eyes are soft. "Us girls gotta stick together. No one else is gonna do it for us."
An hour later, I meet Loretta.
I'm in the kitchen, helping Paige wash dishes—a simple task, mindless and soothing—when an older woman walks in.
