He could still feel the adrenaline that coursed through his body from the confrontation outside—the way the air had gone knife-sharp when Cole stepped out of that SUV. That was thesplit-second when every person on his land had held their breath, waiting for him to give an order.
He’d been Prez for long enough to know when a situation could go sideways, and that one had been inches away from it. The only reason it hadn’t was that Cole didn’t seem up for the challenge that he’d thrown down—but then again, most men weren’t up for any challenge that he issued. He knew the rumor circulated about him. The guys like to exaggerate that his stare could turn someone to stone. Hell, it’s how he got his nickname, but he didn’t take pride in those stupid stories—he was just used to them.
Gorgon exhaled slowly and tapped the unlit cigarette between his fingers. He’d carried it all night but hadn’t bothered to light it. Maybe that said something about him—still holding onto bad habits, just not brave enough to indulge in them anymore. His grandmother would’ve said it meant the ancestors were testing his discipline again. He liked to think it just meant he still had some self-control—something that he couldn’t have said about himself when he was younger.
He slid the cigarette behind his ear and knocked once on Kimi’s door. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps, followed by cursing, and then the quiet click of the lock. The door opened a few inches, and she looked up at him from the shadowed room. Her hair was undone, her jacket hanging off the back of a chair. She looked smaller without the cold wind and defiance holding her up.
“You need something?” she asked. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were too bright—like she hadn’t decided if she should fight him or thank him.
Gorgon stood there like a fool, trying to think of a good reason why he knocked on her door. He was about to give up with the question spilled from his parted lips. “You sleep at all?” he asked.
“I was trying to,” she grumbled, “until you knocked on my door.”
He nodded to the table near the window. “You should lock the window from the inside. Don’t trust the latch—it sticks.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
He started to turn away, not sure of what else to say, but stopped. “You hungry?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I’m fine,” she lied.
There it was again—that word people used when they weren’t fine. He’d heard it from a hundred different voices, always from people trying to make themselves smaller.
He looked her straight in the eye. “You’re not fine. You’re scared. That’s not the same thing.” He didn’t mean to sound as though he was accusing her of anything, but that was exactly how he came off—accusatory.
Her chin lifted slightly. “I’ve been scared before,” she insisted.
“I can tell,” he breathed.
His gaze drifted to the bruise on her wrist where her sleeve had slipped up her arm. He didn’t point it out. She seemed to expect him to—he saw the tension in her shoulders, waiting for the question, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of his pity. Pity was a debt people never stopped collecting on.
Instead, he said quietly, “Whoever Cole is—he’s not done. You know that.”
“I know,” she grumbled.
“Then you should also know that as long as you’re on my land, he won’t touch you,” Gorgon insisted.
Kimi looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to believe him or not. “Why would you protect me?” she asked finally. It wasn’t a challenge. It was curiosity—like she couldn’t understand what kind of man would stake his name on a stranger.
Gorgon stepped closer to her until the space between them drew tight with tension. “Because I said I would,” he answered simply. “And I always keep my word.” Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to argue with him, but no words seemed to come out. Their silence stretched long enough that he could hear the wind rattling the windowpane outside.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured. “Tomorrow I’ll want some answers.” He turned and walked away. He didn’t look back, though every sense in his body wanted to. It would be of no use because she had quickly shut the door and locked it behind herself.
Downstairs, the air was thick with smoke and low laughter again. Hulk was sharpening his knife at the bar—he always did that when he was uneasy. Trudi was playing cards with a few prospects. The club felt alive again, but it was the kind of alive that came right before a storm.
“Prez,” Trudi said as Gorgon approached the bar. “What can I get you?”
“I’m good,” he said. The last thing he needed was alcohol clouding his head right now.
Hulk looked up from his knife and nodded at him. “Buck told us to swing by the south fence again before dawn. He said that the cameras picked up a flicker, but it might just be ice.”
“Check it anyway,” Gorgon said. “In fact, do a full sweep.”
Hulk nodded and pushed off his stool, sheathing his knife. Gorgon paused by the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey, giving up on avoiding alcohol. He stood there a while, watching the fire crackle in the old stone hearth. He thought about the way Kimi had flinched at Cole’s voice, about the way she told him her name like she was handing it over reluctantly. His grandmother’s words played through his mind again. Some names are shields. Some are warnings. Her voice was alwaysshowing up when he least wanted it to. He decided Kimi’s name was both.
By the time he stepped outside again, the snow had thickened to a slow white curtain. The world was silent except for the low growl of a generator and the wind dragging against the eaves.
He lit the cigarette this time, just to fuck with fate. The smoke curled up into the frozen air and vanished. He stared toward the tree line where the headlights had first appeared earlier that night. Beyond those trees, somewhere down the highway, was a man nursing humiliation and thinking about revenge. Gorgon knew that kind of man. He’d been that man once.
