Nothing in his expression changes. "Ruby? I told you to keep your distance."
"You did."
"And?"
"And I didn't." I hold his gaze. "She was waiting at a bus stop alone at almost eleven at night. East Fremont. I gave her a ride."
Pope exhales slowly through his nose. Not quite a sigh. More like a man measuring his response before it leaves his mouth. "And?"
"Drunk at the motel got his hands on her when she was trying to get to her room. I handled it."
"Handled it how?"
"Same way I handled the guy on the casino floor."
This time Pope does close his eyes, briefly, like he's asking for patience from somewhere. "So that's two men in one night."
"Both had their hands on her."
"Havoc." He opens his eyes, and there it is, that steady, immovable authority that has nothing to do with volume and everything to do with weight. "I gave you a direct order. You agreed to it. You looked me in the eye and said *clear.*"
"I know."
"Then explain to me why I shouldn't be a lot more concerned about this than I already am."
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and I don't look away from him because this man deserves my honesty even when it's uncomfortable. Especially when it's uncomfortable.
"Because I went up to her room after," I say. "She cleaned up my knuckles. We talked." A pause. "I kissed her."
The silence that follows is different from the ones before it. Heavier. Pope looks at me for a long moment with an expression I can't quite understand, something between disbelief and recognition, like he's seeing something he didn't expect.
"You kissed her," he repeats flatly.
"Yeah."
"An employee. A woman you met yesterday. After I specifically told you—"
"I know what you told me." My voice comes out rough. "I'm not here to make excuses, Pope. I'm here because you deserve to know the truth, and because I'm not going to go behind your back." I push out a long breath. "And because I'm asking you to take back the order."
Dead silence.
"I'm asking you to let me pursue this," I continue, before he can respond. "Not a one-night stand. Not some brief encounter where I disappear before morning. Something real." The words feel foreign in my mouth, clumsy, like a language I learned from books but never actually spoke. "I know how that sounds. I know we met yesterday and I know the rules about employees and I know my track record is—" I stop. "I don't have a track record. That's the problem. I've never wanted this before, not with anyone, and I don't know what to do with it except tell you about it and ask you straight."
Pope hasn't moved. He's watching me with those eyes that have seen everything.
"Does this have something to do with the kid, the motel?"
"Yes." I don't elaborate on what she told me herself. That's hers. "She's in a rough situation. She's trying to get stable. She doesn't need anyone making things harder for her."
"Which is exactly why I told you to keep your distance," Pope says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "She's vulnerable, Havoc. She's new. She doesn't know how the club works, doesn't know the weight that comes with getting close to one of the brothers. And you—" He stops. Stares right into my eyes. "You've never done this. You don't have any idea what you're walking into."
"No," I agree. "I don't."
"That doesn't scare you?"
"It terrifies me." I meet his eyes. "But I've lost too many things, Pope. People, time, chances I didn't take because I thought I wasn't worth the risk, because I thought the darkness I carry was too heavy for anyone else to be near." I hold his gaze, steady. "I can't sit on this one. I won't. I've lost too much already to let fear take one more thing."
The room is quiet except for the building hum of the casino below us waking up for another day.
