Raven
I’m halfway through basting the roast when voices carry in through the open window. Not raised. But not careful enough, either.
I pause, brush still in my hand, as I move to get a better view.
On the porch, Sam stands with Knox and my father. Their bodies are angled in, shoulders tight. I don’t think they realize how clearly sound travels when the forest is quiet.
“Knox filled me in on what happened the other night,” my father says. “I only wish someone had told me sooner.”
“I didn’t keep it from you,” Knox replies. “I didn’t have all of the info myself.”
Sam doesn’t say anything at first. That’s how I know whatever they’re talking about is big.
My father’s gaze settles on him. “He told me enough. How it went down and who was there.”
Sam shifts, but he doesn’t deflect.
“You saved her,” my father continues. “And you saved him.” He nods once toward my brother. “I don’t take that lightly.”
Knox exhales through his nose. “I’m not pretending it didn’t matter.”
“Good,” my father says. “Because it did. They came onto my property. They came for my daughter. The only reason I’m not standing at her grave is because Wolf was there.”
Hearing Dad call him Wolf lands heavier than hearing them call him Sam ever could. I know how much being patched in, being part of the club, means to him. And I see how much being on probation hurts him.
Sam shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Has there been any word?” he asks finally. “Any movement?”
“You’re still on probation,” Knox says carefully. “I can’t just—”
“They planned to use my wife’s life as leverage,” Sam cuts in. “If she’s in play, I don’t sit this out.”
“I didn’t say you would,” Knox snaps back. “I said I don’t know what I can share yet.”
“That’s not good enough,” Sam argues. “Not where she’s concerned.”
My father steps in before either of them can say another word. “Easy.” He holds up a hand between them. “We’re not doing this out here.”
They think they're protecting me. Like keeping me in the dark somehow makes me safer. Maybe there are times when ignorance is its own kind of mercy. This isn't one of them. If whatever's happening involves me, I deserve to know.
I bite back the urge to call them on it. Not yet. I wipe my hands on a towel, steady myself, and cross to the door. When I open it, the early evening air slips in, cool and damp, carrying the low hum of the forest.
“Dinner’s ready,” I say lightly.
Three faces turn toward me. Silence settles over the porch so quickly it's almost rehearsed. Sam's expression softens first, instinctive. Knox schools his features into something unreadable. My father lets out a slow breath.
I step aside to let them pass, smiling like I didn’t hear a word. For a few minutes, I’ll let them believe I’m still in the dark.
Sam takes his place at the head of the table. Dad and Knox sit in the extra folding chairs. I carry the platter of sliced meat and set it down.
Then I sit and reach for the serving fork.
“You want to tell me what you three were talking about out there?” I ask, “Or should I keep pretending I didn’t hear anything?”
All three of them freeze.
Sam turns first. His eyes meet mine, and I see it immediately. The calculation, the instinct to shield me from anything club-related.
Knox clears his throat. “Rae—”
“No,” I say, holding up a hand. “Don’t. Not tonight.”
My father watches me closely, something like pride flickering beneath the concern.
“Ridgeback came for me,” I continue. “I heard you talking about it. And if there’s still a threat, I don’t get to be the only one at this table without the information.”
Knox shifts in his chair. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything is,” I say. “That’s not an excuse.”
Sam reaches for my hand under the table. His grip is steady, grounding.
“Raven’s right,” he says. “She doesn’t need operational details, but she has a right to know what happened.”
I squeeze his fingers once, a silent thank you for his support. “I’m not fragile,” I say. “That means you don’t get to treat me like I’ll break.”
That earns me a look from Knox, all president and no brother, the one that says I hear you and I’m still not giving you a damn thing.
I turn my attention to Sam. “Tell me what happened.”
Sam’s thumb stills against my hand. For a second, I think he might try to give me a watered-down version. Then he exhales.
“They came to your father’s house,” he says. “They were after you.”
The room goes still.
“They had eyes on the place,” he continues. “Timing. Vehicles staged. It wasn’t random.”
Dad nods once. “If Wolf hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve killed you and your brother.”
I absorb that without flinching, then turn back to Sam. “That’s why you sent Mouse.”
His jaw tightens. “Yes.”
“Thank you for not lying to me.”
His grip tightens, just a fraction. “I didn’t want you panicking,” he says.
“I was furious about being dragged off without an explanation,” I reply.
Knox’s gaze drifts to Sam before returning to me. “He made the right call.”
“I know,” I say. Then, quieter, “I just needed to understand it.”
“That’s all we know,” Knox says. “Ridgeback’s gone quiet.”
“Quiet doesn’t mean done,” I say. “It usually means worse.”
Knox’s mouth twitches. “It always does.”
I glance between the two of them, then at my father, who’s been watching without interrupting.
“So, you’re watching,” I say. “And the next time you get information that involves me, you don’t keep me in the dark.”
Knox studies me for a moment, not weighing my words, but deciding how much ground he’s willing to give up. When he speaks, his voice is steady, final.
“No,” he says. “That’s not how this works.”
Sam stiffens beside me. “Knox—”
My brother cuts him off with a look. “I told her what happened because it already happened. That doesn’t make her part of club business going forward.”
“I’m already part of it,” I argue. “Whether you want me to be or not.”
“You’re part of what Ridgeback did,” Knox replies. “Not what we’re going to do about it.”
The distinction lands hard.
My father shifts slightly but stays silent, letting this be between us.
Knox keeps his eyes on me. “You don’t get briefed. You don’t get plans. And you don’t get put in the middle of anything going on in the club.”
I feel Sam’s grip tighten under the table.
“She’s my wife,” he says quietly. “If something is going down, she deserves—”
“She deserves to be alive,” Knox snaps. Then he reins it in, breath measured. “And the best way I know how to do that is to keep her out of it.”
There’s nothing left to argue. Whether I like it or not, he’s drawn a clear line.
“Fine.” The word tastes bitter. “But don’t confuse silence with acceptance.”
Knox doesn’t respond, which tells me everything.
Dinner carries on after that. The lines have been drawn. We all know where we stand now, and somehow that feels easier than pretending everything's fine.
Later, after the plates are cleared and the kitchen is cleaned up, the night settles around the cottage once more. Sam hangs back while Knox and my father drift out onto the porch.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I smile against his mouth. “I am now.”
His arms tighten just a little. “That’s all I need to hear.”
When we finally pull apart, my father and Knox are already heading toward their bikes. The cicadas are still buzzing, but slower now, less frantic than they were a month ago. Summer isn’t over, but it isn’t endless either.
My father pauses at the edge of the drive and looks back at me, his gaze lingering.
“Be safe,” he says.
“I will.”
Knox settles onto his bike but doesn't start it right away. Instead, he looks at Sam.
“Come by the clubhouse tomorrow,” he says. “We need to talk.”
Sam nods once in acknowledgment.
The bikes rumble to life one after the other. We watch until their taillights disappear between the trees, the sound of the engines fading into the distance.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Eventually, Sam’s hand finds mine.
The strength in him is quiet, but I know it’s enough to carry us through whatever may lie in our future.