Page 90 of Catcher

“Yeah.”

“You’re also hardheaded.”

“Yeah.”

She tips her head back enough to look at me finally. “You agree with everything?”

I glance down at her while climbing the stairs. “Only when you’re right.” That earns me the tiniest breath of laughter—soft, pretty, and dangerous to my damn sanity.

By the time we reach my room, the clubhouse noise is muted. I carry her inside and shut the door behind us with my boot before setting her carefully onto the edge of the bed.

Ruby sighs sharply, frustrated. “You hovering every second isn’t gonna magically fix me or anything else for that matter.”

“No,” I agree calmly. “But it’ll stop me from losin’ my shit.”

That shuts her up. Her eyes lift slowly to mine, and the room goes quieter somehow, heavy and charged, because I don’t think either one of us expected honesty to start slipping this easily between us.

A brief, solid knock lands against the door, followed by Everest’s voice muffled through the wood. “Church.” The word drops into the room like a cold reminder.

I keep my eyes on Ruby. “Need one of the women to sit with you while I’m gone?”

Ruby lets out a soft breath and glances around the room, all of it quieter than the chaos downstairs. “No,” she says, voice small with exhaustion. “I think I just need a little time to myself, if that’s okay.”

I look down at her for a second longer than I mean to, trying to make peace with walking away while she’s still bruised and worn thin. “I get it, babe,” I murmur. “Get settled. I’ll be back soon.” I leave her sitting there and head downstairs.

The church room feels heavy tonight, smelling of whiskey, smoke, leather, sweat, and old wood polished by years of elbows and fists pounding against it during business. Riggs takes the head of the table while the rest of us settle in around him.

Riggs lays everything out piece by piece. Nobody interrupts much. When they do, it matters.

“School hit changes things,” Wick mutters darkly.

“Means they’re either desperate or stupid,” Fender says.

“Or both,” Kiwi adds.

Riggs nods once. “Either way, they targeted family.” The room goes dead quiet at that, because there isn’t anything the Kings respond to faster than threats against family.

Church runs another hour before assignments start getting handed out. Nobody is talking retaliation yet. Not until the Kings know exactly where to strike. That’s how we survive. Calculated violence always lands harder than reckless rage.

Before anybody stands, Riggs plants both hands on the table and lets his eyes move around the room. “For the next few days, everybody stays hunkered down here unless I say different,” he says, voice rough and final. “No solo runs… no women leavin’ without an escort. Doors stay watched. Property stays locked.” A few heads nod. Nobody argues, because nobody is stupid enough to mistake this for caution when it’s really war settling in.

Then Riggs’ eyes settle on me. “One more thing…” The room stills. “You claimin’ Ruby as your woman?” No warning, no soft way into it, just the truth laid out in the middle of the table for everybody to hear.

Every second sitting there while she’s alone in my room has already been eating through me, so I don’t hesitate. “She’s mine.” The words come out low and hard.

For half a beat, nobody says a damn thing. Then fists start thudding against the table—once, twice, a few solid knocks rolling around the room like approval you feel more than hear. Not loud or showy, just brothers marking something that matters. Something real.

Riggs gives one short nod, then he pushes back from the table and looks around the room one last time. “That’s it. Lock it down and get some sleep where you can. We move smart till I say otherwise.”

Chairs scrape back. Boots thud against old wood. The brothers peel off in pairs and singles, low voices rolling through the room while I stand there for half a second longer with my pulse still beating hard from saying she’s mine out loud. Then I turn and head for the stairs, drawn upstairs by the same thing that’s been pulling at me all night. Ruby. By the time I reach the hallway outside my room, the clubhouse noise has dulled to a low hum under my boots, and all I can think about is getting back to her.

I ease the door open and step back into my room, shutting out the last of the clubhouse noise behind me. The quiet hits different in here. For a second, I stand there, letting my eyes adjust to the low amber light and letting the truth of it settle in my chest.

She’s here.

In my room.

In my space.