The moment I open the back gate of the clubhouse, my hackles rise.
What the hell? It’s unlocked.
At a short distance, I hear a dull rhythmic clanging. Metal striking metal, followed by the occasional rustle.
My heart jumps into my throat as I move quietly toward the sound. I should probably alert Ryder or Wolf because the hammering is coming from the edge of the building closest to the second entrance.
I slip behind the bushes lining the clubhouse wall and peek through the leaves.
Then freeze.
There, in nothing but jeans, is Ruin.
One knee rests on the top rung of a step ladder, the other foot planted firmly on the step below. His bare back stretches as he works, muscles shifting under inked skin. Moonlight glints off the tattoos spread across his chest and back.
I’ve seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never while he’s deeply focused on… manual labor.
What the hell is he doing out here in the middle of the night?
“What are you doing?”
He jumps at the sound of my voice, and hand immediately flies to the back of his jeans.
God. He’s still armed.
“Jesus,” he mutters before setting whatever tool he has in his hand and jumping a good four feet from the top of the ladder.
His eyes immediately scan the yard for danger. In a blink, he’s right in front of me. Scanning… me?
“Charlotte?” His brows furrow with a mix of confusion and concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
He looks haggard, almost spent. Up close, I can see a thick stubble forming on his face, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. The hair on his chest has clearly not been trimmed either.
God. I can see his tattoos peeking out, making me swallow hard.
His hands hover between us, muscles coiling and flexing under the weight of his restraint.
“I’m fine,” I say, my stupid voice cracking from disuse.
“Oh.” He sighs with relief, swallowing awkwardly.
I nod at the ladder, staring at the massive hole in the wall. “What’s that about?”
He glances back quickly, not really seeing. Then his hand comes up, rubbing the back of his neck in an almost boyish hesitation. “Uhhh… it’s… well, it’s the hole for the chimney vent.”
I jerk my head back. That is not what I thought would come out of his mouth.
“What?”
He groans, frustrated—mostly to himself. Squaring his massive, bare shoulders, he powers through his dithering thoughts. “Alright, I’ll—fuck—I’ll show you,” he says, frowning at the muddy ground.
He sprints back to the ladder, grabs his white undershirt, and runs back to me. “But it’s not fully done yet, okay?” he adds, a little out of breath.
I open my mouth to ask further, but then relent. Nodding, I follow him, unable to catch up to his strange, callow body language. Even as he puts on his undershirt, his movements are rigid and strained.
Once we’re back inside, he leads me to the hallway to the officers’ rooms.
I freeze instantly, my feet rooted to the floor. Fuck, I haven’t been in this area since that night Glory told me to wait for Ruin in his room.
