“Thanks.”
When I pulled it on it swallowed me whole, the scent of him stronger now. Clean soap, leather, and the faint bite of motor oil. It strangely made me feel safer.
Tex sat down in the chair across from the bed, elbows resting on his knees. “You holding up okay?”
I laughed quietly. “Not really.”
He nodded like he expected that answer.
“I keep thinking this is some kind of mistake,” I said, “that tomorrow I’ll wake up and everything will go back to normal.”
Tex didn’t say anything. Because we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“I don’t even know who my parents were anymore,” I murmured. “My whole life has been a lie.”
For the first time since he came in, Tex looked uncomfortable.
“They were still your parents, Rowan,” he said finally. “They raised you. Loved you. That doesn’t change.”
My throat tightened. “That’s easy for you to say.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”
I looked at him properly then, noting the faint scar along his jaw and the tired lines around his eyes. I noted the way he held himself like someone who had spent most of his life ready and waiting for a fight.
“It’s different for you. You grew up in this world,” I said, and then I let out a dry laugh, “apparently so did I.”
Tex shook his head. “I didn’t. Not exactly.”
That surprised me. “No?”
“Nah.” He leaned back slightly in the chair. “Didn’t join the club until my twenties.”
“What were you before that? Before allthis?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Trouble.”
Despite everything, a faint smile pulled at my own lips too. The moment didn’t last long though.
“Look,” he said, softer now, “I know this isn’t what you want. Hell, it’s not what I want for you either.”
I gave a tired laugh. “That’s comforting.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “But right now, this is the safest place for you. I can’t quite believe I’m saying this but you heard it for yourself—someone in our club has instigated this. And if there’s a rat in our club then we need to hunt him down and chop off his head.”
My mind snagged on that word—rat.
They had a rat in their club.
I sank down onto the edge of the bed and the mattress dipped under my weight. “I keep trying to remember,” I said quietly.
Tex tilted his head. “Remember what?”
“My parents,” I whispered. “Signs or clues. Hints of anything that might explain all of this.” I rubbed my temples. “But all I see is my mom baking pies and my dad fixing fences.”
He nodded like he agreed, but remained silent, and I was glad of it.
My throat tightened. “They weren’t criminals, Tex.”
