Chapter 14
When Rowan said he wanted me to meet the crew, I didn’t think he meant right now.
However, while I was reading over my employee contract, he sent out a message. Before the ink was even dry, he ushered me back to the bar area, where the afternoon patrons were escorted out and the sign flipped to Closed.
Saint stands at the bar, arms crossed over his chest, tracking our movement across the room. Beside him, Ghost works behind the bar, lining up glasses and pouring amber liquid into each without measuring.
My fingers twitch at my sides, uncertain. I slide them into my pockets, then pull them out when I realize it makes me appear nervous.
Rowan’s hand finds my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay. You’ll fit right in.”
My throat tightens as I realize what’s happening here. This is more than a job offer. This is Rowan carving out a place for me in his world with a position that matters. These people respect him. They defer to him without question. And now he’s telling them I belong here, too.
The back door swings open, and two men enter. The taller one moves with lethal grace. His dark hair falls in waves over his forehead, and he scans the room before he settles on me.
A jolt of awareness goes through me as I recognize an Alpha, and Rowan’s hand shifts to the back of my neck, over my nape guard in a clear show of possessiveness.
A flush works its way through me, and I shift my attention to the other man.
Shorter, but no less striking, the younger man has honey-blond hair and an almond-colored nape guard close in color to his pale skin.
He focuses on a tablet clutched in his hands, thumbs tapping at light speed across the screen without looking up as they approach, trusting the Alpha to guide him through the space.
“Kain, Reef,” Rowan greets them. “This is Ash.”
Kain assesses me with a single sweep. “The new security guy?”
“Locksmith,” I correct.
Kain’s mouth quirks. “Same difference in this place.”
Flashing lights spill from Reef’s tablet. His head lifts, curiosity sharpening behind rectangular glasses. His scent carries notes of citrus and electronics, muted by regular use of suppressants. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say.
His attention returns to his tablet, but I get the distinct impression he saw everything he needed to in those few seconds of observation.
Kain touches his elbow, and the two men move toward the bar.
Kain’s attention stays on Reef, tracking the Omega’s movements with territorial focus.
When Reef shifts, Kain adjusts his stance to maintain the same distance between them.
When Reef sets down his tablet to accept a drink from Ghost, Kain follows the motion of his hands.
Reef appears oblivious to the attention, but the act doesn’t fool me. No Omega misses that kind of focus from an Alpha. He’s choosing to ignore it, which tells me volumes about their relationship dynamics.
“Kain is a programmer, and Reef is a professional gamer,” Rowan informs me.
As Kain and Reef head for a booth in the corner, the front door opens again, letting in a blast of cold air that carries the scent of winter and expensive cologne.
A young man with artfully tousled copper hair slides inside, shrugging off a leather jacket to reveal arms covered in intricate tattoos that disappear beneath the sleeves of his thin T-shirt.
He surveys the room as if returning home rather than entering a workplace, then hops onto a table edge instead of taking any of the empty chairs.
“Silas,” Rowan acknowledges. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” Silas responds with a lazy grin that suggests he wasn’t concerned about punctuality. His fingers drum on his thigh in a restless pattern as he takes me in.
Another Omega, based on the subtle notes in his scent. Confident enough to maintain direct eye contact. The way he perches rather than sits suggests he doesn’t plan to stay in one place long.
“So you’re the infamous locksmith.” Silas tilts his head, studying me with open curiosity. “We’ve all been eager to meet the man who twisted Rowan around his little finger.”
Ghost slides a drink across the bar without Silas having to order. “He found gaps in our security on the first walkthrough.”
Silas’s eyebrows lift. “Impressive.” His fingers continue their restless tapping on his glass once he retrieves it. “Rowan spent a lot of money on that system.”
“Silas is a professor at the local university,” Rowan says. “He teaches psychology.”
The other Omega shoots me a flirty wink.
Two more men enter with matching strides despite their different builds. The broader one assesses the room, marking each exit before turning his attention to Rowan. His shoulders span the width of a doorframe, and his presence reminds me of a guard dog ready to attack.
The second man is leaner, sharper, with features carved from marble. Unlike his companion, this one assesses me right away.
“Vail. Luca.” Rowan gestures them forward. “Meet Ash.”
Vail, the broader one, lifts his chin in greeting. “The locksmith.”
I twitch, wondering how much Rowan told these men about me.
Luca focuses on Rowan. “He one of us, now?”
“He’ll be revamping our security,” Rowan says, which isn’t the same as what Luca asked.
Disappointment rises, but I stuff it back down. This is already more than I expected.
As the two men head for the bar, Rowan leans down to murmur in my ear. “Vail runs an underground fighting ring, and Luca is a driver.”
My brow furrows. “A driver? For what?”
He nuzzles my cheek. “Anything with wheels.”
The answer only leaves me with more questions, but it’s clear that’s all I’ll get for now.
The bar continues to fill as another man claims a stool at the far end, setting up a laptop without greeting anyone. His fingers fly across the keyboard, the blue light from the screen reflecting off wire-rimmed glasses.
“That’s William,” Rowan explains, following my gaze. “He works in a lab for his day job.”
William doesn’t look up, but his hand lifts in silent acknowledgment. A Beta, based on his neutral scent. Focused to the point of tunnel vision.
“He doesn’t talk much,” Rowan adds as Ghost slides a coffee mug next to William’s laptop.
Movement catches my eye as someone slips through the side entrance.
A slender man with pale hair slinks toward the booth next to where Reef and Kain sit, his hips swaying with every step.
He slides into the seat with theatrical grace, arranging himself so his long legs stretch into the walkway, forcing others to step around them.
“That’s Angel,” Rowan says with a note of exasperated fondness. “He handles our more... delicate client relations.”
Angel catches my stare and flashes a smile promising nothing but trouble. “So this is your new pet project, Rowan?” His pink tongue sweeps out to lick his bottom lip. “He’s prettier than expected.”
I bristle at the words. “I’m not a project.”
“No,” Angel purrs. “You’re much more interesting than that.”
Before I can respond, two more people approach from the back hallway. A tall woman with box braids pulled into an elaborate updo walks beside a man whose muscled frame strains his button-down shirt. They move together with the rhythm of two people who have worked together for years.
“Mara,” Rowan introduces, gesturing to the woman. “She helps Ghost with the bar. And Jackson handles our books.”
They acknowledge me before returning to their conversation, heads bent together over Mara’s phone. They position themselves at an angle that keeps most of the room in view while they speak.
In fact, everyone in the room maintains a similar awareness of space, exits, and each other. They function like parts of a well-oiled machine rather than employees waiting for orders.
“So, this is your crew,” I murmur to Rowan.
“Family,” he corrects. “They’re family.”
The word rings through my bones. Family. I’ve never had that beyond Lena. Never allowed myself to want it with anyone else.
These people aren’t employees serving drinks and checking IDs. They’re a network, connected by bonds stronger than paychecks. The way they move around each other speaks of trust built through shared secrets and risks.
“What exactly does this family do?” I ask, keeping the question quiet.
Rowan’s hand settles at the small of my back again, warm and steady through the fabric of my shirt.
For a moment, he watches the room instead of answering. Kain murmurs to Reef over the glow of the tablet. Silas laughs at something Angel says from the booth. Vail and Luca stand with Saint, talking while Ghost continues pouring drinks no one has ordered.
Rowan leans closer.
“The Blue Note is a lounge,” he says. “But that’s just the front door.”
I arch a brow. “So I saw earlier. But what are the back rooms for?”
His fingers trace slow circles on my spine.
“For people who need problems solved quietly,” he replies. “Security issues. Missing property. Information that’s difficult to obtain through legal channels. Sometimes, situations that require discretion.”
I stare at him.
“You run a criminal organization.”
Rowan chuckles under his breath.
“I run a service,” he corrects. “The difference depends on who’s asking.”
I study the room again, reassessing what I’m seeing.
Reef is fixed on the game he’s playing. Silas is now lounging on the table beside Angel, both Omegas watching the room with casual confidence.
It hits me then how many Omegas are here.
Most crews stack themselves with Alphas and muscle, treating Omegas as fragile assets or bargaining chips. Rowan’s people break the mold, though. Here, Omegas aren’t protected. They stand on equal footing.
Suddenly, I understand why Rowan believed in my skills so fast.
“We take contracts,” Rowan continues. “Most of them are legitimate. Security consulting. Private investigations. Data recovery.”
My attention snaps back to him.
“And the rest?”
Rowan’s smile is slow and unapologetic. “The rest are the kinds of jobs people can’t take to the police.”
My pulse ticks faster.
“And you trust all of them with that?”