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“And she walked straight into it.”

“Yeah.”

For the first time, that possibility settles heavily in my gut.

Madison could've died in my place.

And whoever arranged it might have no idea they nearly killed the wrong person.

Grim grips my shoulder.

“Go with Razor. I've got this.”

I look at him.

Then at Striker, who's already making calls.

My brothers.

The men who stood beside me when everybody else turned their backs.

“Call me the second you find anything.”

“You'll be the first to know.”

I turn toward the SUV.

Madison is watching me.

Those green eyes narrow.

“Are you coming too?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody needs to make sure you don't disappear.”

“I can take care of myself.”

I look toward my cabin.

Then back at her.

“Your recent track record suggests otherwise, sweetheart.”

Her mouth falls open.

I climb into the passenger seat before she can come up with a suitable insult.

Razor starts the engine.

“Where are we going?” she demands.

“To get you checked out,” he answers. “Then, depending on what we find, you're coming back to the clubhouse medical room where I can keep an eye on you.”

“And after that?”