I ignore both of them.This isn’t the part where they talk. This is the part where they understand what’s coming. I straighten slowly, eyes sweeping over the line of them one more time.
Five men. Breathing. Hurting. Useful. For now.
“Don’t touch them,” I say finally, my voice low and even. That gets everyone’s attention. Not loud. Doesn’t need to be.
Joker sighs dramatically. “You’re taking all the fun out of it.”
“Later,” I say. That’s enough.
He leans back on his heels, satisfied with that promise.
I don’t stay. I turn and head for the stairs without looking back. They’ll still be there. And when I come back. They’ll talk.
Upstairs feels different. Warmer. Louder. Real. The shift hits the second I push through the basement door, the sounds of the clubhouse bleeding back in, voices, movement, the low hum of people waiting for something they don’t have yet.
Answers.
Her.
Logan and Landon are just ahead of me, coming in from the side entrance. Landon’s holding his arm tight against his body, blood soaking through the makeshift wrap Carter threw on him earlier. His face is pale, jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth, but he’s upright. Still moving.
Logan is worse than he’s pretending to be. His gait is off, a subtle hitch that most wouldn’t catch unless they’re looking for it. His knee twisted during the fight, and now it’s paying the price. He doesn’t lean on anything. Doesn’t ask for help. Doesn’t need to. But I see it.
Doc meets us halfway down the hall, already moving before we even reach him. “Gunshot?” he asks, eyes going straight to Landon’s arm.
“Yeah,” Landon grits out.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine—”
My hand lands on his shoulder, firm enough to stop the argument before it starts. Not gentle. Not optional. He looks at me for half a second, then exhales sharply and drops into the nearest chair.
“Through and through?” Doc asks, already cutting the fabric away.
“Feels like it.”
“Good,” Doc mutters. “You’ll live.”
Landon huffs something that might be a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.
Doc shifts his attention to Logan. “And you?”
“I’m fine.”
Doc doesn’t even pretend to believe that. “You’re not. Sit your ass down.”
Logan glares at him for a second, then lowers himself into the chair opposite Landon with a controlled movement that says it costs him more than he’s letting on.
I stay there long enough to see Doc start working. Long enough to know they’re handled. They’re hurt. But they’re here.That matters. Then I move.
The main room goes quiet when I step into it. Not completely. There’s still movement. Still breath. Still life. But the conversations die down, voices lowering, eyes shifting. Everyone is here. Women gathered near the couches, tension in their posture even when they try to hide it. Brooke’s hands are clasped tight in front of her, Carter hovering just behind her. Mac sits with Kya, both of them watching the door like they’re expecting it to open any second. Prospects line the walls, standing straighter than usual, unsure what to do with themselves. Brothers scattered through the space, not relaxed, not settled. Waiting. The kids are gone. No small voices. No chaos. No normal. It’s too quiet. Intentional. This isn’t a place for them tonight. This is where things get decided. The air feels heavy. Like something’s pressing down on it.
I step farther into the room, my eyes moving once over everything. Then I stop on Carter. He’s already watching me. He knows what I’m going to ask before I say it. “Where is she?” The words come out low. Flat. No edge. No emotion. That’s what makes them worse.
No one needs clarification. No one needs a name.
Olivia.
