His grip tightened, like he was anchoring himself to the truth of it.
Not protection.
Presence.
And that was going to change everything.
“Okay,” Doc said gently. “No more adrenaline tonight. Cap, we need to reset shifts. I’m keeping her downstairs.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Wrecker said.
“No one’s asking you to,” Cap replied. “But I want someone outside, someone on cams, someone by the door.”
“Already on it,” Ghost said. “Camera caught the object mid-air. Not a person. A drone.”
That sent a new wave of nausea through me. “They flew it in?”
“Weighted bag with metal scrap inside. Hit the junction box dead center. Took out the power without breaching the line.” He looked at me. “They didn’t want in. They wanted you to know theycould.”
Mission accomplished.
The buzz in the room was low but constant with people shifting, talking in quiet voices, checking locks, resetting passwords, realigning cameras. Cap gave orders like he was born doing it. Ariel hovered near the couch, arms crossed tight, rage simmering just under the surface.
“They picked the wrong bitch to mess with,” she muttered.
“You’re not wrong,” I whispered back.
Doc helped me stand. My legs were shaky, but I made it upright. Wrecker stayed close. So close that his shoulder brushed mine with every step. When we moved toward the hallway, Cap spoke again.
“Wrecker.”
He paused.
Cap met his eyes. “Take care of her.”
Always.
That’s what his eyes said before we disappeared into the hallway.
13
WRECKER
I didn’t let go of her when we turned down the hallway.
Didn’t loosen my grip. Didn’t step ahead or behind. I kept my hand firm at the small of her back, guiding her like the floor might tilt if I wasn’t there to hold it steady.
She was upright now. Breathing. But her weight leaned into me more than she probably realized, and I adjusted without comment, bracing my shoulder so she didn’t have to ask.
Cap’s words echoed in my head.
Take care of her.
Always.
The hallway lights hummed softly, backup generator still settling into its rhythm. The clubhouse had shifted into lockdown mode behind us. Boots moving, low voices, radios murmuring. Familiar sounds. Controlled. But under it all, I could feel the crackle of tension. The kind that meant everyone was waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Amanda’s fingers were still twisted in the front of my shirt.
