Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
SAVANNAH
S avannah's fork hovered over her plate, the scent of meatloaf and gravy momentarily forgotten as she watched Irish gently feed Makenzie a spoonful of peas. The casual display of dominance and submission sent a shiver down her spine, at once thrilling and unsettling. She was here. In The Watchmen’s clubhouse, eating dinner with several of the officers and their littles. She wanted nothing more than to be here on her own volition, instead of being forced against her will to spy on them. She listened carefully to the conversations going on around here, hoping to hear something that would set her free.
"Eat up, little girl," Savage's deep voice rumbled beside her. "Can't have you wasting away on us."
She ducked her head, cheeks flushing. "Yes, Sir," she murmured, taking a bite of creamy mashed potatoes. She’d learned her lesson when she’d slipped and called him Daddy before. He didn’t correct her this time, instead offering a wink of approval. She took another bite of potatoes, Tater was an amazing cook, she was learning, and he had a love for all things potatoes. Makenzie had told her how he included spuds of some sort at darn near every meal.
Across the table, Makenzie smirked. "No one tells you what to do, right Savvy?"
Savannah smiled as Emilee laughed. “Maybe I spoke too soon.”
“You think?” Makenzie said with a chuckle.
“No one tells you what to do?” Savage repeated. “It’s a good thing I’m not a no one.”
Ignoring the heat she felt radiating from his gaze, she turned her attention to Emilee who was huffing beside her, pushing her peas around her plate.
“Eat your peas, kitten.”
"I’s no wanna eat them."
Arrow gave a warning look, took the spoon from her hand and filled it with peas. He guided the spoon to her lips. "Open up.”
Emilee clamped her mouth tightly closed and shook her head.
“She doesn’t like vegetables,” Tater said, from next to Arrow. “The first time we met, she gave all her green beans to Clover.” The beautiful dog laying across the room in front of the fireplace heard her name and lifted her head. When no one called her, she dropped it back down again.
“I’d happily give my green beans to her, too.” Savannah said. “Who likes green beans?”
“The problem is, little girls don’t like any vegetables at all. It’s up to their daddies to make sure they get all the nutrition they need to be healthy,” Savage said.
“That’s not true, Uncle Sav!” Makenzie countered. “I like corn!”
“Corn isn’t a vegetable, it’s a grain.” Savage said.
“Technically they are both,” Savannah told them. “When my mom was diagnosed with diabetes a few years ago, we took a nutrition class together. The nutritionist said corn aids digestion, helps with heart health and is a great source of fiber, among other things. I was surprised too, but corn is super healthy.”
“But we don’t digest corn,” Makenzie said.
“That’s not true either. I said the same thing!” Savannah said. “The nutritionist told us you digest the inside of corn just not the outer covering. But the outer covering is good too, it acts as a probiotic in our guts. I didn’t believe her at first until I looked it up myself.”
“Wow!” Emilee said. “Daddy, do you hear this? Does that mean we can eat more corn and less green vegetables?”
“Maybe. Right now, you are going to eat your peas, Kitten.”
“Nope. I nos wanna.”
“Emilee, you will open your mouth right now and take a bite of your peas. You are not being a very good example for your new friend on how to listen to your Daddy.” A tiny pout formed before Emilee reluctantly opened her mouth, swallowing the peas.
Savannah felt like she was intruding on something sacred. They trusted her to show her their most vulnerable sides, something they didn’t air out in public- she knew from talking with Makenzie, their families weren’t even aware of the dynamics. She should feel honored they were letting her in, but she didn’t. She felt like a fraud. Guilt gnawed at her. At the end of all of this, she’d be lucky if she didn’t have an ulcer.
The conversation shifted as the group discussed the upcoming motorcycle ride and the barbecue cook-off. The lively chatter filled the room, making Savannah feel, just for a moment, like she belonged. The laughter and camaraderie enveloped her. She listened intently, tucking away bits of information to remember to send to Zeb later.
Then, Irish cleared his throat. "Don’t forget to add Hawk’s funeral and the memorial ride to your calendars.”
Seeing the look of confusion on her face, Emilee leaned in close and whispered, “It’s for the SEALs KIA last month."
A hush fell over the table. Savannah frowned. "I… I didn’t hear about any SEALs being killed," she ventured hesitantly.
Makenzie reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "They don’t always report it, honey. Especially with special forces."
"OPSEC," Arrow added gruffly. "Operational security. Some things don’t make the news. "
“But I thought we were out of all combat operations. That’s what they said on the news when we pulled out of Afghanistan?” She couldn’t help but be confused. She thought American troops were safe around the globe.
Savage draped his arm around her shoulders. “We have troops engaged in combat around the world at any given time. This was a Houthi attack in Yemen. A group of operators were working on the ground while the Navy fought them in the Red Sea. It might not make the news, but the community is small, and we talk.”
Irish nodded. "So, we’re all riding together. Knew the team leader, Hawk. Good man. We all did. He’s from Wyoming. We’re going to ride up for his funeral."
“All of you?” She asked.
“The officers and a few of the members who knew Hawk. The girls are staying behind as they didn’t know him and were going to be gone in a few days. A couple members will stay behind and make sure everyone and everything is taken care of here.”
“We’re going to have a slumber party here at the clubhouse!” Emilee said. “And now that you are staying here, you have to join us!”
“Uncle Tater is going to make us nachos and we’re going to watch movies and stay up all night.” Makenzie exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.
“All night? I think not, little girl,” Irish said.
“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him,” Emilee said. Everyone around the table laughed.
“We don’t keep secrets from our Daddies, right girls?” Arrow said firmly, and each girl nodded their heads.
“When is it, again?” Savannah asked.
“This upcoming weekend,” Emilee replied.
“Oh, okay.” Savannah said as her mind whirled.
“Don’t worry,” Savage said, leaning in so only she could hear. “There will be plenty of brothers here to protect you. No one will harm you here.”
As they finished eating, she committed every word to memory, but a pit of guilt gnawed at her insides. These men were mourning their fallen brothers, and she was preparing to betray their trust.
As the meal wound down, Makenzie and Emilee hugged her goodbye, promising a tour of the town tomorrow after work. Savage's large hand settled on the small of her back, guiding her upstairs.
In her room, he quirked an eyebrow. "I know you have an early start morning, but do you want to watch a movie?"
She was nowhere near ready to go to sleep and nodded. They settled in together on the couch, Savannah hyper-aware of his solid presence beside her. The warmth of him, the subtle scent of leather and musk, filled her senses. She focused on the screen, but her mind was a tangled mess of fear and deception.
As the credits rolled, Savage stood and took her into his arms. He smelled so good; she never wanted the hug to end. All too soon he stepped back. "Shower and straight to bed, little girl. Early day tomorrow." He leaned in and kissed her briefly, his lips barely touching hers before they were gone. “I’m staying the night right down the hall. If you need anything, come get me. Okay?”
She nodded, throat tight. "Okay."
The door clicked shut behind him. The moment he was gone, her phone buzzed. If she hadn’t been safe inside of the clubhouse, she would have thought Zeb was spying on her. The timing was uncanny.
Zeb: Where are the fuck are you? Tim went to the room. They said you checked out. You better not be running away. We will find you.
Her hands shook as she typed out a response, relaying her location. and the intel about The Watchmen. She worried about how he would reply. Would he be angry that she wasn’t where he told her to be? His reply was swift and chilling:
Zeb: Fuck, you are better at this than I gave you credit for. Remember what's at stake. Fuck this up, and your sister and that brat of hers pay the price. Don’t be late tomorrow. Tim will meet you at the front.
Savannah sucked in a sharp breath, her chest tightening. Why was Tim going to be at the ski resort? What did he need to tell her? She’d assumed she’d be working a normal housekeeping job. She had more questions than answers. Her fingers clenched around the phone, her vision blurring with tears.
What could she do? What alternative did she have? She’d tried everything. She’d pawned her belongings, taken on extra shifts, even resorted to selling some of her mothers’ treasured jewelry—items she’d promised herself she’d never part with, the few things she had to remember her by. But it was never enough. Zeb’s demands kept escalating, his patience wearing thin. His veiled threats had become more direct, his visits more frequent, each one leaving her trembling in the aftermath.
She knew he was capable of anything. She'd heard the stories. That’s exactly how she ended up in this situation. Her only option was to do what he demanded and infiltrate the Spartan Watchmen Motorcycle Club. It was a ludicrous plan, but it was her only chance.
What else could she do? Success hinged on her ability to blend in, to become one of the littles, at least for long enough to gather the necessary intel. Could she do it without blowing her cover? She’d spent weeks researching BDSM clubs and motorcycle clubs: studying their habits, their rituals, their lingo. She took notes as she read DDlg books, carefully crafting a persona—a submissive “Little Girl.”
She’d made a plan the only way she knew how by reading and watching television shows. Now that she was here, she realized the folly in her plan. Turns out, television shows were grossly inaccurate about motorcycle clubs and DDlg books weren’t realistic, either. They were a great escape from reality, but not at all a good look at what really happened in the lifestyle.
The risks she was taking were immense. The Spartans were protective of their territory, their members fiercely loyal. Discovery of her betrayal could mean… Well, she didn't dare to think about the consequences of failure. But the alternative—Zeb’s wrath and threats against her family—was far more terrifying.
She had no choice. No way out. Curling into herself, she whispered into the silence, "What have I done?"