“What happened to your hands?”
Ruin’s head snaps up from his laptop. Bandages snake from his knuckles all the way up to his forearms. He quickly shoves both hands under the desk so he can hide them.
Ryder had to run out with Wolf to coordinate with Mihai, so he asked me to find Ruin and stick with him in the meantime.
And I’m quickly realizing I probably shouldn’t be anywhere near him. Because the yearning looks he used to throw my way have shifted. Morphed into something I don’t want to name.
“Oh, err… nothing.”
My eyes narrow, but instead of pressing him, I glance around his office.
I’ve never been in here before. It’s clean. Surprisingly modern for a biker clubhouse office—dark wood desk, sleek shelves, everything neatly organized.
Then my gaze lands on the couch. A duvet is draped over one armrest. Behind it, a box overflowing with clothes is shoved into the corner like an afterthought.
My eyes widen. “Are you… are you sleeping here?”
Ruin follows my gaze. When he spots the couch, he winces slightly. “Yeah, well…” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was gonna take your old room upstairs but it’s too loud there.”
“Loud,” I repeat blankly.
He shrugs. “I have a house on the club grounds, but it’s not furnished yet. So… office it is. For now.”
I frown. I knew he gave up his room for me. But why didn’t he just get his house furnished? Or gotten a cot? A futon? Something.
“It’s fine, Charlotte,” he says smoothly, clearly noticing my expression. His tone turns careful, like he’s trying to calm me down before I even say anything. “I’m here all the time anyway. With everything going on, it’s better I stay in the clubhouse. Besides…”
I raise an eyebrow when he trails off. “Besides?”
His lips roll inward like he’s physically trying to stop the rest of the sentence from escaping.
I step farther into the room and drop into the chair opposite his desk. Then I cross my arms over my chest, fixing him with a pointed look. “Besides?” I press again.
He exhales slowly. “You’re not gonna like the answer.”
I stare at him flatly. “Try me.”
“Fine,” he mutters, lifting both his bandaged hands in surrender. “Besides… you’re here.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking faintly uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be too far away in case—well, in case you need me.”
My whole body braces for the scoff. Or the disbelieving laugh. But it never comes. Or maybe I swallow it down before it can escape. I’m not even sure anymore.
Instead, I nod toward his hands. “Lost a fight with a tiger?”
His head tilts slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Wouldn’t I have won if I’m sitting here in one piece?”
Now I do scoff. But the sound carries far less bite than before. It almost borders on teasing. “What happened, though?” I ask again. “You didn’t have those bandages two days ago at Wolf’s house.”
His throat bobs. For a moment, his gaze flicks away from me, like he’s suddenly fascinated with a random spot on his desk. “Well,” he mutters, shifting in his chair. “I have to take these off anyway. For it to heal. So might as well…”
My eyes narrow. Suspicion coils low in my gut as he slowly pulls his hands from under the desk.
He hesitates for a second. His fingers hover over the tape wrapped around his wrist, like he’s debating whether this is a terrible idea.
Then he exhales quietly and starts peeling it away. The tape comes off slowly. Careful. Methodical. He unwraps the first bandage from his right hand, his jaw tightening slightly as the dressing pulls at skin. Layer after layer falls away.
My brows knit together. What the hell—
Then the final wrap loosens and I freeze. The breath leaves my lungs in a silent rush.
