He won’t find one.
Giving a little sniff like “this isn’t worth my time anyway,” the stiffness in the sheriff’s shoulders betrays him. His jaw ticks with that quiet fury that says the fight’s not over—it’s just postponed. Then he jerks his chin at his men. They load back into their cruisers like whipped dogs dressed as wolves. He makes a call as he gets in, voice low but urgent.
It’s not over. Not even close. Knox has been looking for any reason to gain access to my club that he can use. He doesn’t like how we combat his corrupt dealings.
The moment they’re gone, the yard erupts. Voices. Complaints. Nervous adrenaline.
“She’s a magnet for cops,” someone mutters.
“She’ll get us burned.”
“Can’t be having loose ends, Saint.”
A dull roar builds—fear masquerading as logic.
I step forward and let it rip. “She’s mywife.”
The yard goes dead silent. My voice might as well have been a gunshot.
“Not a liability. Not a problem. Not optional.” I let my gaze cut across each of them. “You follow the code, or you don’t belong here. Family comes first. And anyone who forgets that? I don’t care how long you’ve worn the patch—your seat can be emptied.”
Heads bow. Not submission—loyalty. Or fear. Works either way.
“Judge, Doc, Reaper—you’re digging into Knox. Phone records. Money trail. The connection to Grant. He’s not doing this because Wren ran. Someone pointed him at us, and I want to know who.”
They break off, already moving.
I head back inside, pulse still pounding the way it does when I’m in any kind of battle. It’s worse when I think of Knox getting his hands on Wren, and I find her in the hall.
My wife. The more I say those words in my head, the more I like them. It’s been a long time since they brought me some semblance of hope.
Wren isn’t wide-eyed like a terrified doe this time. She’s steady. Braced. But she got a death grip on my vest, keeping it tight around her like armor as I stop in front of her.
Sin leans against the wall beside her, arms crossed and a bored expression like he didn’t just stand guard over her with bloodlust simmering behind his eyes.
“I thought I told you to keep her safe,” I say.
Sin shrugs. “She’s safe. Unless you wanted me to manhandle her into a room…” His voice trails, but the way he looks at her says he’d do it. And enjoy every second.
I file that away. For later. Maybe for punishment. Maybe for temptation.
“Go trail Knox. Connect with JP.” I keep my voice flat, all business.
Sin nods, pushing off the wall. Not even a backward glance at her.
Yet I see her shoulders drop afterward—relief or disappointment, I can’t tell.
When it’s just the two of us, the hall feels too small. Too quiet. It pushes me toward her when I’ve promised to leave her alone, to keep my hands off.
“You didn’t bring trouble here,” I tell her. “It was already coming.”
Her breath stutters, just a little. My hand lifts before I can stop it, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. Soft. Warm.
She swallows. “You called me your wife.”
I’m not sure if she means she’s shocked, scared, or something softer. But her eyes—god, those eyes—search my face like she’s waiting for the truth under the lies.
I stare right back, my voice quiet, dark. “That’s exactly what you are now.”
