“And then?”
I pause with my hand on the door.
Then I look back at her.
Her hair is a mess. Her eyes are too big. Her freckles are bright across her nose, and there is dried blood on her hands, and I know right then I’m not letting her out of my sight until every man connected to that cabin is handled.
Maybe not even then.
“Then the club handles the rest,” I say. “And we keep you safe.”
She swallows.
“We?”
“The Damned Saints.”
I push the door open, warm light spilling over the porch between us.
“My brothers,” I add. “My family.”
Her gaze flicks past me into the cabin, then returns to my face.
Something in her softens at the word family.
Something in me cracks because I see it.
The hunger.
The hurt.
The hope she probably thinks she’s hiding.
I know that look. Different reasons, same ache.
I step aside, giving her room.
She walks in.
The cabin has never looked smaller. Or warmer. Or more dangerous to everything I thought I knew about myself.
I follow her inside and shut the door behind us.
Chapter 3
Reina
Aceshutsthedoorbehind us. The cabin goes quiet around us.
For a second, I just stand there with my tote clutched to my chest and my heart still trying to outrun the night, the gun, the blood, all of it.
The cabin is smaller than I expected, but warmer too.
A stone fireplace takes up one wall, with two worn chairs angled toward it. A small bed sits in the corner, made with military neatness, and a narrow dresser stands beside it. The kitchen is tucked off to the side, clean enough to make me wonder if he ever uses it for anything besides coffee.
There is only one other door.
Bathroom, hopefully.
