Samuel
The shop is loud enough to drown out most things, but not her.
Raven’s laugh cuts through the clang of tools and the rumble of the bay doors the way sunlight slices through storm clouds—too bright, too warm, too damn dangerous for a man like me. I grit my teeth and pretend I don’t hear it, but my hands slow on the wrench anyway.
Of course she picked today to show up. Raven’s the last damn person I need to see after a night like last night.
We were supposed to do a simple pickup on the south end of Ashbourne.
In and out, ten minutes, no drama. Instead, the idiot on the other end decided to inch his hand toward his waistband.
I saw the glint of his piece, and I took him down.
Knox knocked a weapon out of the hand of another guy. Then, everything blew up.
Shouts.
Scrapes of gravel.
Someone swung beside me. They landed a boot to my ribs that I didn’t feel until this morning.
One wrong move and someone would’ve been on the ground with a hole in their chest. That’s how close it got.
After that, it was the ugly kind of work.
Knees, elbows, fists. The kind of hits you throw because backing down isn’t an option.
My knuckles split when I introduced a man’s face to the concrete. The sound hasn’t left my head since.
My hands still sting when I flex them. My shirt still smells like smoke and sweat, and there’s dried blood, some mine, some not, caught in the crease between my thumb and forefinger.
I didn’t bother scrubbing it out. Didn’t see the point.
Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, so I came straight to the garage. I needed something to do with my hands.
And now she’s here. Like the universe wants to see how much I can take before I break something I shouldn’t.
“Knox’s sister just walked in,” Mouse mutters, nodding toward the front office like I somehow missed the shift in the room’s gravity.
Knox. My best friend and the President of Blackwater MC.
“Yeah? And?” I say, keeping my eyes on the stripped carburetor in front of me.
“And Knox is watching you like a hawk.” Mouse leans in. “Maybe you should actually use that wrench you’re holding.”
I don’t look up.
I refuse to give Mouse the satisfaction.
But I can’t deny the change in the air. It’s subtle, familiar. The same way it always happens when Raven walks into a room. I grit my teeth and keep turning the bolt that doesn’t need to be turned.
“Hey, Wolf,” she says, all easy warmth and trouble wrapped into two words.
I glance up and take in her long, dark hair braided over one shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes sharp enough to make a man forget how to breathe.
Around us, every prospect snaps to attention, like they’re standing in front of the damn President.
Being Knox’s little sister keeps them in line.
But even without him, Raven’s never needed anyone to guard her.
She moves like she knows the world rearranges itself just to make room for her.
I drag a hand across my jaw, trying like hell to focus. It doesn’t work.
“Wolf.” Her voice slides down my spine. I close my eyes for half a second, just half, then turn.
Raven stands a few feet away, hands wrapped around a paper coffee tray, snow melting into the shoulders of her jacket. She’s smiling, but it’s the warmth in her eyes that hits hardest—soft, knowing, and too familiar.
“I brought you a coffee,” she says, lifting a cup from the tray.
“For me?” I wipe my hands on a rag. “Or for Knox’s best friend, who keeps fixing your car for free?”
Her grin widens. “Why can’t it be both?”
I reach for the cup, and her gaze drops to my split knuckles.
“What happened?” she asks, voice dipping lower.
“Nothing,” I say too fast.
She lifts a brow. “Those don’t look like nothing.”
I flex my hand, instantly regretting it when the sting flares. “Just work.”
She steps closer, close enough that the cold lifts off her in waves. “Right. Because my engine clearly picked a fight with you this morning.”
Movement behind her catches my attention. Knox shifts his weight, arms crossed, watching us like he senses something but hasn’t decided if it’s worth commenting on.
Raven glances back at him, barely hiding the small eye roll she’s perfected after a lifetime of being Knox’s sister. Then she gives him a tiny shrug. He’ll get over it, her expression says when she looks at me again. There’s a hint of mischief tucked in the corner of her smile.
“It’s handled,” I mutter. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, voice low. “I paid for it this time.”
When she pulls back, my pulse is a damn hammer. I take the coffee because not taking it would say more than taking it does. Her fingers graze mine, warm and gentle. My chest tightens in a way no amount of self-control can soften.
Knox clears his throat, and we both straighten.
Raven tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. I take a long drink of coffee I can’t taste.
“Knox says you’re coming by tonight,” she says, casual as anything.
I blink. “I am?”
Before she can answer, Knox steps forward from behind her, closing the distance with a heavy, deliberate stride. One that always means pay attention. He plants himself beside Raven, eyes locked on me like he’s checking for damage. “Clubhouse dinner. Everyone’s expected. That includes you.”
His tone doesn’t leave room for argument, but it isn’t about the dinner. It’s about the way Raven’s standing close enough to me that he felt the need to insert himself into the space.
“Right,” I say. Brotherhood. Obligation.
And Raven.
She looks up at me, waiting for my answer, even though she pretends she isn’t.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be there.”
Something softens in her expression. Barely. But I catch it. Knox catches it, too.
His jaw ticks once before he turns his attention back to me. “Good,” he says. “We need to go over some shit from last night.”
Translation. You and I aren’t done talking about how close that run came to turning into a body count.
Raven elbows him lightly. “Not now.”
Knox ignores her, because of course he does. “You coming straight from here, or do you have other plans first?”
“Straight from here,” I answer. “I have to finish patching up your sister’s car before I head back to the clubhouse. Pretty sure this thing’s got more attitude than she does.”
“It’s not that bad,” she argues weakly, but the smile tugging at her mouth says she knows damn well her car’s a disaster.
I raise my hand, palm out, showing her the busted knuckles again. “You sure about that?”
Her smile falters. Just a little. Her eyes trace over the swollen skin, the dried blood, the split knuckles that are threatening to reopen.
“That wasn’t my car,” she says softly.
“No,” I admit. “But your car’s trying to finish the job.”
She lets out a breathy laugh, half worry, half amusement, and reaches like she might touch my hand, then stops herself at the last second, fingers curling back around the tray instead.
Knox steps in closer, his posture shifting in a silent back-off warning. “Let’s go,” he says. “I’ll drive you home.”
“On your bike?” she asks, hope flickering across her face.
“No. In my truck.”
She deflates a little. “Why? It’s not even icy.”
“It’s cold,” Knox says flatly.
Raven rolls her eyes hard. She doesn’t argue, out loud, but her mouth is set in a mutinous little line that tells me she wants to.
Knox gives her elbow a little tug. “Come on.”
Her eyes drop to my bloody knuckles once again. “Make sure you clean and wrap those before tonight,” she says softly.
I lift a shoulder. “If I have time.”
Knox shoots me a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Try not to bleed on the tools. They’re expensive.”
Raven shoots him a glare. “Knox.”
He lifts both hands as though he's the picture of innocence. The smirk pulling at his mouth ruins the act.
Raven’s lips curve in a faint smile that makes the whole damn morning worse and better. “See you later, Wolf,” she says.
They head for the door, but Raven stops and looks back once before stepping out into the snow.
It’s only a heartbeat. But it hits hard enough that I feel it all the way down to the ribs that bastard kicked last night.
The door opens, letting the cold rush in. Knox glares at me like he’s seen more than I wanted him to. Then, they’re gone.
Mouse whistles. “You’re dead, man.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but my pulse is still tripping over itself.
I lean back over the engine, but my hands won’t steady. This thing between Raven and me, whatever it is, whatever it’s becoming, is getting harder to hide.
I’ve tried to shut it down, but it’s too late. I’m already in way deeper than I should be.
And I know if Knox ever finds out what's really going on, I might as well start digging my own grave.