Samuel
I should go straight to my room after dinner. It would put a couple of necessary walls between Raven and me before I do something even dumber than usual.
Instead, I walk back into the main room of the clubhouse with the rest of the guys, pretending my pulse isn’t still tripping over itself from the way she looked at me across the table.
That girl is going to be the fucking end of me.
Most of the brothers drift toward the bar, the pool table, the couches with springs long gone. The air’s already thick with noise. Bottles clinking, someone laughing too loudly, music thumping under the floorboards.
I grab a beer I don't want and settle into a chair near the fireplace while Mouse and Diesel argue over a game neither of them is sober enough to win.
Usually, this is the part of the night I enjoy. Tonight, every laugh feels too loud. Every conversation drifts past without sticking. My attention keeps snagging on the same thing.
Raven.
The way she smiled at dinner.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she caught me looking.
After ten minutes of pretending I'm paying attention, I've had enough.
Beer still half full, I set it on the nearest table and head for the hallway behind the main room. The narrow stretch where the sleeping quarters sit.
There’s a line of battered doors on either side, some open, some cracked, some bolted shut. My room’s at the end. It’s the same one Jon assigned to me when I was a new prospect. Four walls. A bed. A dresser older than I am, and a tiny bathroom with a door that sticks.
It’s bare bones. Functional. It’s all I need or all I’m supposed to need. Tonight it feels a hell of a lot smaller than usual.
Shutting the door behind me, I lean my head against it as I breathe out slowly.
Raven's smile flashes behind my eyes. The way she slipped out of the clubhouse without anyone noticing.
The way she tasted when I kissed her against the wall.
The way she whispered my name and made me forget every reason this was a bad idea.
But Knox’s voice cuts in. “She’s my baby sister, Wolf. I trust you with her life.”
I scrub a hand over my face and pace the room. I shouldn’t be doing this. I know better. I’ve always known better.
But the truth is ugly and simple. When I’m with Raven, none of that shit matters.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, and stare at the cracked concrete floor. My knuckles throb, and my ribs burn from last night. The bruises run deep. But the pain isn’t what gets me.
It's her.
Her fingers tracing my tattoos like she's reading a map only she understands.
Her laugh.
Her stubborn streak.
The way she looks at me like I hung the damn moon.
She's nineteen.
I'm twenty-four.
And I've already ruined myself for anyone else.
A knock hits my door. I straighten instantly. “Yeah?”
Mouse sticks his head in. “Knox wants us in the office in ten.”
My spine goes rigid. “Did something happen?”
He nods, jaw tight. “Yeah. Last night’s mess didn’t end where we thought.”
Before I can say more, he’s already backing out and closing the door. I sit there a moment before I grab my cut off the chair and shrug it on.
My phone’s still in my hand. A message from earlier glows on the screen.
Raven: Are you sure you’re okay?
The corner of my mouth lifts, despite everything.
Before I talk myself into replying, I lock the screen and shove my phone into my pocket. Club business. That’s where my head needs to be right now.
The storm's coming. I can feel it. And when it does, I don't trust myself to make the right call when it gets here.
When I push open the office door, Knox is leaning over the desk with both palms planted flat. His jaw ticks when he looks up at me. Ghost, Bishop, and Mouse are scattered around the room, their expressions tight.
“Shut the door,” Knox says.
I do.
He gestures toward the chair across from him, but I stay standing. My ribs are killing me, but I don’t sit when Knox is in this mood. Nobody does.
“We’ve got a problem,” he starts.
Understatement of the year.
Ghost tosses a folded paper across the table. A photo slides out. It’s a grainy, nighttime shot, timestamp in the corner. It’s from last night. Behind the warehouse. Two bikes. A couple of silhouettes. Not clear enough to ID us, but close enough to make a man sweat.
“Where’d it come from?” I ask.
“Anonymous drop,” Mouse says. “It was forwarded to the club email.”
“Someone’s watching us,” Bishop adds. “And they’re not shy about letting us know.”
Knox’s eyes lock onto mine. “You were on the left flank,” he says. “You notice anything?”
My pulse kicks hard, but I keep my voice even. “There was some movement behind the fence. I figured it was an animal. Didn’t really have time to check.”
“An animal?” Knox repeats, his voice eerily quiet.
“Yeah,” I say. “A lot of shit moves around out there.”
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t break eye contact. He’s reading me, he’s been reading me for weeks, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this mask in place.
“Someone knew we’d be there,” Bishop says. “And they wanted us to know they knew.”
I nod once. “Means it won’t be their last move.”
Knox taps his fingers once against the table, the only sign of his irritation. “Everyone needs to stay sharp. Last night wasn’t supposed to get this messy. We can’t have more eyes on us.”
I feel the words like a warning meant specifically for me.
Can’t have more eyes on us.
Can’t have more eyes on me.
“Wolf,” Knox says, dragging my attention back. “You good?”
The lie comes easier than it should. “I'm fine.”
He studies me for another moment before giving a single curt nod in return. “We’re tightening up. No one rides alone this week. No late-night runs.”
No slipping away to see Raven. My stomach tightens.
“Dismissed,” Knox says.
The guys file out, murmuring about the photo, the threat, the mess. I start to follow them, but Knox’s voice hits me again.
“Wolf. Stay a minute.”
My spine stiffens. Fuck. “Yeah?”
Knox closes the door behind the others and faces me fully. The room feels smaller than it did a minute ago.
“You’ve been distracted,” he says. “More than usual.”
I lift a brow, playing it cool. “It’s been a long week.”
He steps closer, voice low, heavy.
“I need you with me,” he says. “I need your head in the club. No secrets. No bullshit. If something’s going on, you tell me.”
My pulse pounds against my ribs. I feel the lie before it leaves my mouth. “Nothing’s going on.”
Knox searches my face for a long, suffocating beat, then nods slowly.
“Good,” he says. “Because I can’t afford surprises. Not now.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say, jaw tight. “I’m locked in.”
I leave the office before Knox decides to keep digging. I stand there a long moment after the office door shuts behind me, the noise of the clubhouse muffled through the walls.
I need to end things with Raven.
The thought settles in my gut like a lead weight. It's the smart choice. The responsible choice. The only choice that doesn't end with Knox putting a bullet in my head.
But the second I picture her smile, I know I'm lying to myself.
I don't want to end it.
I don't want to go back to pretending she doesn't matter.
Raven Sutter is the line I shouldn't have crossed.
And the moment I did, she became the one thing I could never let go.