Page 29 of Break Me

And you sure as hell don’t get them in your hair unless you’re standing exactly where I’m standing now.

My boots crunch through the leaves as I walk to the barn door. Every sound feels too loud. I shouldn’t be here. Not with the club already neck-deep in shit. And not with Knox watching everyone like a matchbox waiting for a spark.

But if someone else was out here, someone who isn’t her father. If someone from Ridgeback got curious and followed her. If they think she matters to me. That puts her in a different kind of danger.

I stop at the warped door, listening. Breathing slowly. Trying to feel whether the wrongness in the air is paranoia or a warning.

If someone saw me with a woman? That’s one kind of problem. If someone saw Raven? That’s a fucking disaster.

I push the door open. It groans, low and long.

Inside, the light cuts through the slats in thin, fractured beams. Dust hangs suspended and undisturbed. Nothing looks out of place, but the dread in my gut hasn’t eased.

With a curse, I head back outside and make a slow circuit around the barn, checking the tree line, the overgrown path leading in, and the muddy ground near the entrance.

There’s nothing there. No footprints or cigarette butts. No sign that anyone was here.

And yet the feeling won't leave.

Turning around the corner, I spot something. Crouching outside the spot where I had her pressed against the wall is a boot print that isn’t mine.

My teeth clench.

Her father? Maybe.

But there’s another print beside it. That one’s lighter, angled like someone turned fast.

Someone was watching, and they left in a hurry.

A cold shiver runs down my spine.

I wasn’t paying attention. My thoughts were only on getting to her. I could’ve been followed. Worse, someone could’ve followed Raven.

I stand, my jaw tight enough to crack. There’s a whisper of movement, a flicker of something in the corner of my eye, a shadow that shouldn’t be there. I freeze.

Nothing.

It’s just my nerves—my guilt.

I force myself back to the bike and go straight back to the clubhouse. Just act normal. Pretend everything’s fine.

But when I walk in, Knox steps in my path, arms crossed, staring at me like he’s trying to read my goddamn soul.

“Wolf,” he says low. “What the hell’s got you so worked up? And don’t give me any bullshit answer.”

The words land hard.

I swallow, steady my voice, and lie through my teeth. “Nothing.”

His eyes narrow, and I’m terrified he’ll see right through me.

Knox’s stare sharpens, cutting through the dim hallway lights. He’s never been the subtle type. Not with leadership, not with anger, and not with suspicion. Right now, every instinct in him is clawing for the truth.

“You sure?” he asks again, quieter this time. Deadlier.

My heartbeat kicks at my ribs.

He doesn’t know.