That’s all.
His mouth tightens, but he steps aside.
I move. The clubhouse hits me in layers as soon as I cross inside. Warmth. Noise. Food. Smoke. Women talking too low because they know something’s wrong. Kids being shushed, which never works long. The place smells like family and trouble, the same as it always does, but tonight the sound bends around us. People stop.
I feel eyes. I don’t look at them.
Olivia’s head shifts against my chest, and my arms tighten before thought catches up. Still out. Still breathing.
Emma rises from the couch as I pass the common room, Mason tucked against her side, his small face sleepy and confused. Kya is near the kitchen with Remy half hidden behind her leg. Brooke stands a few feet away from Carter, her expression changing the second she sees what I’m carrying.
Brooke’s eyes don’t go wide.They go old. That’s the only word for it. Something inside them recognizes too much too fast. She takes half a step forward.
I stop. Not because I think she’ll hurt Olivia. Because my body doesn’t care what I think.
Brooke freezes immediately, hands lifting just slightly. “I’m not touching her,” she says, voice soft.
I stare at her.
She holds my gaze without flinching. Not challenging. Understanding.
Carter moves closer behind her, not to stop her, just there. His eyes flick to me, then to Olivia. He doesn’t say a word.
Good.
Emma’s voice comes from the side, calm and low. “Cobra, infirmary’s open. I put clean blankets on the bed.”
I nod once. That’s all I can give.
Mac follows behind Logan now, Knox finally dropping his heavy little head against her shoulder. “I’ll get the everyone out of the hall.”
“Do that,” Logan says. He’s behind me. Close enough that I can feel the argument waiting.
Not now.
He knows it too because he doesn’t push until I reach the infirmary.
The room is already lit. Too bright. White cabinets against the wall, the bed made, metal tray pulled out, supplies stocked in neat rows because Doc is particular and has threatened to skin three different prospects for misplacing gauze. The smell hits sterile compared to the rest of the clubhouse.
I cross to the bed and stop. For the first time since I lifted her from the pavement, I have to set her down. Everything in me rejects it.
I don’t hesitate anyway. Hesitation is weakness when something needs doing. I lower her carefully, keeping one hand behind her head until it touches the pillow. Her body settles into the mattress, small against the white sheets, coat still on, cheeks pale from cold and whatever drug is moving through her system. Her hair fans over the pillow. One hand falls near her side, palm turned up. I stare at that hand.It should be moving.It isn’t.
My jaw locks.
Emma steps into the doorway with Brooke behind her, both of them stopping just outside the room when I turn my head.
“No one touches her,” I say again.
Emma’s face remains calm, but something sad moves through her eyes. She’s seen enough damaged things to understand the shape of my voice. “We won’t.”
Brooke nods once. “We can wait here if she wakes scared.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know if I want them there or not. I know I don’t want anyone close.
Logan comes in behind them, then looks at Emma and Brooke. “Give us a minute.”
Emma hesitates. Not for me. For Olivia. Then she nods and steps back.
