CHAPTER 9
I rest my cheek against Legion's shoulder, eyelids heavy. My body's gone liquid, muscles turned to warm honey as I melt against him. The room blurs at the edges. Drugs still haunting my blood, making everything feel like it's happening underwater.
I could sleep right here, right now. Skin against skin, his heartbeat under my palm. I don't care who watches.
Legion's hand slides down my back, cups my ass with a firm squeeze that jolts me halfway to consciousness.
"We're not done yet, princess," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. "That was a good first step. Probably got half the members on your side, but the night is young. And that means?—"
"For fuck's sake!" A voice thunders through the bar, sharp as a gunshot. "Are we at a goddamn wake or what?"
I jerk upright, arms instinctively crossing over my chest despite what everyone's already seen. A mountain of a man stands at the back of the room—wide-framed with wild eyes andan open shirt revealing a torso that's more ink than skin. He stares directly at me, beckoning with one massive hand.
"Hey, Diesel, shut your hole," someone calls from a corner table.
Diesel. The one who's been watching Mercy. The one who taught her to shoot.
He throws both arms up like he's conducting an orchestra, and the entire place goes silent. Even the ceiling fan seems to pause. He steps into that silence like it belongs to him, crossing the room in three long strides before slamming his palm on the bar hard enough to make bottles jump.
"Feels like a damn funeral in here," he announces, voice filling every corner. "Someone better pour this girl a drink before her nerves chew through the fucking cushion." He looks at me, eyes narrowed but mouth quirked up. "Time to welcome the girl who broke the bad boy's brain, don't you think?"
The scene shifts faster than I can track. Music erupts from hidden speakers—something with a growl and a bass line that crawls up my spine. I flinch at the sudden assault, curling closer to Legion. The men at the corner table laugh, the sound rough like gravel. Someone cranks the volume until I feel it in my teeth.
The room transforms like a beast waking.
Like the blood came back.
"Come on, pretty girl," Diesel yells, gesturing toward the bar. The way he says it sounds like an invitation wrapped in barbed wire.
Legion's hand finds my knee, squeezes once. "Go with it," he says quietly. "Try. Breathe." His eyes search mine, desperate for understanding. "This is our only chance, Savannah. This night is it. Once the vote is done, it's over. It's law. And if they don't let you stay?—"
He doesn’t finish. But he doesn’t have to. It’s already been said.
"Come on," Legion says, cupping my face.
"Pretty Girl!" another man calls. "We're all waitin' on ya!"
"It's not that bad," Legion says. "I promise. They're good people."
I don't even respond with words, just a look. Which makes Legion laugh. "I get it," he says. "I know what you see. But that's because you're not family yet. If we get the votes, you will be. And then you'll see. Then you'll understand. These men will protect you ‘till the end of time. You'll never know how you got along without them."
And that's that. His speech is over because he doesn't even give me a chance to respond. He just gently pushes me off his lap, stands up, tucks his cock back into his jeans, and zips up like nothing happened.
Then he shoulders into his cut, the leather settling across his back like armor, and walks toward the bar without looking back.
I sit alone on the couch, naked.
The gaze of forty or fifty outlaw bikers tracking my every breath.
I stare at Legion's back as he walks away. I'm supposed to follow. I understand that much. But what waits for me at that bar, where the men gather with hungry eyes?
I have no idea.
Something inside me wants to say no. To curl up right here on this stained couch and refuse.
But if I do, we lose everything.
I won't be protected.
