"Definitely." Pope looks at Savannah again. "You care about him?"
She doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Even though you just left your fiancé? Even though you're still processing trauma? Even though you've known him less than a day?"
"Yes."
"That's also fucking stupid."
"I know," she says quietly. "But I'm done making smart decisions that make me miserable. I'd rather make stupid decisions that make me happy."
"Alright," he finally says. "Here's how this is gonna work. Savannah, you're under club protection effective immediately. That means you don't leave this casino without one of us withyou. You don't contact your ex, your family, or anyone who might tell them where you are. You follow our rules, and we keep you safe. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Knuckles, you're responsible for her. Anything happens, it's on you. And if this situation blows back on the club, we're having a very different conversation. Clear?"
"Clear."
"Good." Pope heads for the door, then pauses. "And for fuck's sake, get her some proper clothes. She can't walk around in shitty t-shirts forever."
Ghost follows Pope out, but Havoc lingers for a moment.
"She seems like good people," He says. "Better than most who come through here looking for help."
"She is."
"Then don't fuck it up." He claps me on the shoulder. "And congratulations, brother. About time you found someone worth breaking the rules for."
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
Silence fills the room. Savannah lets out a breath she must have been holding. "That went better than I expected."
"Better?" I stare at her. "He just read us both the riot act."
"Yeah, but he's letting me stay. And he's not making you stay away from me." She smiles. "Could have been worse."
She's not wrong. Pope could have kicked her out. Could have told me to keep my distance. Could have made this whole situation a lot more complicated than it already is.
"You okay?" I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I'm okay. Mortified that your president found me naked in your bed, but okay."
I laugh despite myself. "Yeah, that was about as bad as first impressions get."
"Think he likes me?"
"Honestly? Yeah. He wouldn't have agreed to protect you if he didn't think you were worth it. Pope's got good instincts about people."
"And you? Does he think you're being stupid?"
"Absolutely. And he's probably right."
"Are you?" She reaches for my hand. "Being stupid?"
I look at her. Hair a mess, no makeup, bruise still visible on her jaw, wearing nothing but my sheet, and I know the answer.
"Probably. But I don't care."
