Chairs scraped back. Men stood. Brutus looked like he was ready to punch through a wall. Doc swore he needed five Advil before tonight’s ride. Ranger clicked Smoke’s leash and the big shepherd immediately glued to his leg.
I stood too fast and swayed. Wrecker’s hand wrapped around my thigh under the table before I even tipped.
“You good?” he murmured.
I nodded, even though my voice wasn’t ready.
Ariel touched my arm gently. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
But Wrecker squeezed my thigh, slow and steady, and something inside me stopped spinning.
Cap caught my eye as he passed. “You did right coming in here,” he said gruffly. “Don’t run from this. You’re part of it now.”
I forced the words past the tightness in my throat. “I won’t run.”
Wrecker’s quiet breath beside me sounded like approval.
As the room cleared, I looked back at Scout’s chair one more time.
He wasn’t forgotten.
He wasn’t abandoned.
And neither was I.
Being part of this didn’t feel like safety.
It felt like responsibility.
If I stayed, I couldn’t pretend ignorance. Couldn’t hide behind shock or fear or the excuse of not knowing how bad it really was. These men didn’t gather to talk. They gathered to act. And by sitting at this table, by being named, protected, claimed, I was stepping into the weight of that.
It scared me.
But it didn’t make me want to run.
Wrecker’s hand settled at my lower back, steady and warm. Not steering, just there. Partnership. Presence. The kind that didn’t erase fear but didn’t let it rule either.
I wasn’t just surviving anymore.
I was choosing to stay.
Wrecker touched my lower back, guiding me toward the door.
“Come on,” he said softly. “We stick together.”
I nodded.
Because for the first time since the elevator doors closed on that terrified girl…
I didn’t feel alone.
5
WRECKER
We didn’t go back to my room right after church.
