Jealousy that someone else has been leaving me things? Maybe. That’s the obvious read, and it pricks at my ego. Yet something deeper scratches at my certainty. The pain I saw isn’t just jealousy. It’s more personal, more complicated, a puzzle that keeps me on edge.
I watch the way she peels herself off the wall and moves through the club. There’s something wrong with how she’s moving. No bounce in it. No awareness. Like she’s operating on a pre-programmed loop, following a route her body memorized while the rest of her went somewhere else entirely.
A thought hits me, so absurd and so fucking perfect it makes the hair on my arms stand up.
What if—
No.
She couldn’t be. She couldn’t be the one who left me the gifts. She couldn’t be my little shadow.
Could she?
But then she disappears off the feed again. Clean. No hesitation, just gone, like she knew exactly where the camera was pointed.
I straighten slowly.
I don’t have proof. Not yet. But there’s a sharp anticipation now, curiosity inflaming my old instincts. The scent is in the air, and I’m one of the best hunters this club has. If my Goldie is also my stalker… if she’s the one watching me from the shadows… the thrill of the unknown merges with desire.
A slow, dark heat spreads through my veins.
Fucking hell.
The game just flipped, and the stakes are higher than she can imagine. That means the little minx has been playing me all along.
I’m onto you, Goldie.
I’ll find the truth, and when I finally catch her, I’ll bend her over and spank that beautiful, disobedient ass until she’s breathless, before I worship every inch of her the way she deserves.
She wants to play in the dark? Fine. I’ll show her that I can be the fucking king of the shadows.
Chapter Nine
Themarinaairhangsheavy, reeking of oil and salt-soaked decay. We gather in a rough, uneasy circle, eyes fixed on the carnage before us.
This isn’t vandalism. Vandalism is shattered glass, neon tags, a flash of bravado. This is surgical. Cold. Someone took our boats apart with purpose, gutted the engines, sliced the lines, and left our fleet bleeding into the bay.
This is sabotage, pure calculation. They struck on our turf, which means they’re either clueless about who we are or they just don’t give a fuck.
Either way, it ends the same for them.
“Anything?” Pope’s voice is a low, serrated growl directed at Cypher.
I watch Cypher’s jaw clench and release. He spent years as a Nomad, drifting with the Saint’s Outlaws, never tied to any chapter or patch of earth. That changed when he found Nyla and Calix. Something in him settled, put down roots, and decidedthis place was worth staying for. I haven’t logged the kind of time with him that I have with my other brothers, but I’ve seen enough. You don’t forget watching a man carve open a traitor for crossing the club. Loyalty like that doesn’t need words.
“Fuckingnothing,” Cypher snaps, the words catching in his throat like gravel. “Every camera went dark last night. No pings, no alerts. My system didn’t even blink.”
“What the fuck.”
Pope’s voice carries that razor edge it gets just before blood spills. He snaps the hot pink hair tie on his wrist,snap, snap, snap,a jittery rhythm that grates against my nerves as he stalks the pier. “Who has a goddamn death wish?”
There’s a weight on the side of my head, and I don’t have to look to know it’s Blitz. He’s staring at me, his eyes burning holes into my temple. I can practically hear his brain whirring, waiting for me to open my mouth and put Marigold’s name in the middle of this. The empty spaces on the club feed. The way she vanished clean off the cameras, twice, like she’d done it before.
The urge to speak claws at me, loyalty to the club burning in my chest, but I clamp my jaw shut. I give Blitz the smallest shake of my head.
Not yet.
His face smooths into a mask of cold frustration, jaw muscles flexing. He’s angry, suspicious, but for now, he’s got my back.
