Chapter Thirty-Six
HIGH VOLTAGE WAS doin’ what it always did. Music loud enough to rattle the glasses. Someone laughin’ too hard at the bar. The smell of booze, grease, and sweat hangin’ thick in the air. I’d seen this place a thousand times. Ran it. Bled for it. None of it registered anymore.
Lark did.
She moved between the tables like she belonged there, like the noise and the heat and the press of bodies didn’t faze her. Tray steady in her hand, eyes up, readin’ people the way most folks never learned how. She didn’t rush. Didn’t apologize for takin’ up space.
And somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, she stayed hers.
Folks felt it, too. Leaned in closer because of it.
Hell, I sure as shit did.
I leaned my elbows on the bar, watchin’ her laugh at somethin’ Ruby said. It wasn’t loud or careless. Just a small, real sound that slipped out before she could stop it. The kind of laugh that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.
Protective. Possessive. Dangerous.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Gatsby said from behind the bar, polishin’ a glass like it’d personally wronged him. “Chain finally chained. World’s officially gone to hell.”
“Damn straight,” I said, not even pretendin’ to argue. “Lark’s fuckin’ perfect.”
The words landed heavier than I’d meant them to.
A man didn’t say things like that unless he meant ’em. And I meant it in a way that left me wide open, ribs bare, heart right there for the taking. I clocked it. Didn’t walk it back.
“Then what’s she doin’ with your dumb ass?” Devil asked, takin’ the stool beside me.
His tone stayed dry, but his eyes moved constantly, trackin’ the room, the door, the people. Devil missed nothin’.
“Slummin’ it,” I said, smirkin’. “Don’t tell her, though. Woman still thinks I’m worth somethin’.”
Gatsby snorted. “Man’s sitting here like a goddamn guard dog. Watching her like you’re scared she’ll fly off.”
I turned just enough to give him a look. “Why don’t you take your slick-haired ass back to 1950? You and them shiny shoes don’t belong in this century.”
“Trust me, if I could leave this shit decade, I would,” he said, already walkin’ away to pour a drink.
I shook my head and turned back to Devil. Horse sat on his other side, quiet for once, stare fixed on nothin’, jaw tight like he was wrestlin’ somethin’ he didn’t wanna name.
“Figured this was the only way to talk to you,” he said. “You been busy lately.”
I smirked. “Miss me that bad?”
“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Devil’s mouth twitched, but it never quite made a smile. His gaze slid back to Lark as she crossed the room. “So. How serious is it?”
Lark passed the bar a moment later, didn’t slow, didn’t make a show of it. Just set a fresh beer down in front of me without askin’. Her fingers brushed my wrist as she did, brief but deliberate.
Her eyes flicked up, caught mine for half a second.
That was all it took.
Then she was gone again, back to work like she hadn’t just wrapped me tighter around her finger.
Somethin’ in my gut finally eased.
I dragged a hand over my jaw, watchin’ her weave through the tables. “I don’t know how to put it into words,” I said. “All I know is she’s different. She’s got this light in her, Devil. And I don’t ever wanna stop feelin’ it.”
A man at one of the tables leaned in too close, his hand driftin’ where it didn’t belong.
I realized I was already on my feet.
Didn’t remember standin’. Didn’t remember decidin’. Just knew my body had moved before my brain caught up.
She handled it herself, same as always. Calm smile. Polite deflection. Untouchable. The guy backed off, none the wiser.
Didn’t stop the heat from burnin’ through me anyway.
Devil watched me for a second, then nodded slow. He understood. Raina was his light.
“You just be careful, brother,” he said quietly. “Light like that… sometimes it burns too bright for the likes of us.”
I huffed under my breath, eyes still on her. Burn scars didn’t scare men like us. Hell, they were about the only thing we trusted.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Guess I’ll take the burn.”
The noise of the bar swelled again, laughter rising, bottles clinkin’, the jukebox hummin’ in the background. But underneath it all, the only thing I heard was her voice in my head. Soft. Certain. The way it always cut straight through everything else.
“Shit,” Devil muttered.
I followed his gaze to the door and swore under my breath.
Brenda stood just inside, arm looped with a man who looked like he belonged behind a desk instead of in a biker bar. Neat hair. Glasses. Tan slacks. Smilin’ like he had no idea where he’d wandered into.
Horse went rigid.
Hands clenched. Jaw locked. His whole body pulled tight like it was bracin’ for impact.
“Why’s she testin’ me?” he growled.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Devil warned as the pair moved closer. “Jail’s not where you wanna spend your night.”
For caution’s sake, I shifted to Horse’s other side. Not that Devil or I could stop him if he decided to lose it, but I wasn’t about to make it easier either.
Brenda finally noticed him. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t lower her chin. Just lifted her head a little higher.
That was Brenda. Guts any man would envy.
“Evenin’, Brenda,” I said.
“Who you got with you?” Devil asked, keepin’ one eye on Horse, who refused to look at either of them.
“This is Tom Montgomery,” she said. “Tom, this is Devil, Chain, and Gatsby.”
She didn’t acknowledge Horse. Not even a glance. Same as he wouldn’t look at her.
“Nice to meet you,” Tom said, smilin’ easy as he shook hands. “Brenda talks about you all the time.”
“How’d you two meet?” Gatsby asked, earnin’ sharp looks from both me and Devil.
“One day I was walkin’ to my office,” Tom said, oblivious. “Had my head buried in some papers when I ran right into her. When I looked up and saw her standin’ there, I swear I forgot how to speak.”
“He asked me out right then,” Brenda added.
“Couldn’t let her walk away,” Tom said, leanin’ in to kiss her cheek. “Too beautiful.”
“Fuck this shit,” Horse snarled.
He was on his feet in a second, stool clatterin’ to the floor as he stormed for the door and disappeared into the night.
Tom blinked. “Uh. What was that about?”
“He’s havin’ a bad day,” I said, givin’ Brenda a look that said maybe don’t poke the bear.
“Let’s sit down, Tom,” she said smoothly, steering him toward a table before turnin’ back to us. “I didn’t know he’d be here. He’s usually at the clubhouse or The Pit. I wouldn’t have brought Tom if I’d known.”
“I’ll check on him later,” Devil said.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Horse’ll have to deal with it.”
She nodded once, then went to join Tom.
Gatsby exhaled. “Why doesn’t Horse just claim her? Thought they were a thing.”
“Guess she finally decided she wanted more than a good time,” I said, my eyes already findin’ Lark again across the room.
She caught my gaze, the smallest smile curvin’ her lips before she turned back to work like she trusted I’d still be there when she looked again.
Some men ran when it started feelin’ like this. Some burned everything down on their way out.
Me?
I stayed.
***
I LOST FOCUS somewhere between pourin’ a drink and settin’ it down.
That didn’t sit right with me. High Voltage was my responsibility. Gatsby was behind the bar workin’ his ass off. Friday nights didn’t forgive distractions.
Didn’t stop mine.
My hands kept movin’ on instinct while my attention wandered where it damn well pleased. I nodded when someone spoke. Poured when a glass hit the rail. All of it automatic.
Because Lark was out there again.
She worked the floor calm and deliberate, like she’d already learned what chaos could cost if you didn’t respect it. Tray balanced easy. Eyes movin’ without panic. Not jumpy. Just alert in that quiet way that told me awareness hadn’t been optional once upon a time.
That kind of thing sticks with a person.
I told myself to look away. Told myself she didn’t need me hoverin’ every damn second.
Didn’t take.
That’s when I saw him.
Corner table. Button-down with the sleeves rolled like he thought it made him relatable. Gold watch catchin’ the light every time he lifted his glass. The kind of man who mistook money for permission and charm for entitlement.
He leaned forward when she stepped in to drop his change.
Too close.
“Hey there,” he slurred, eyes droppin’ to her hands. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”
Lark stilled.
Just a beat. Barely nothin’. Long enough to tighten somethin’ in my gut.
Before she could pull back, he reached out and caught her hands, turnin’ them palm up like she was somethin’ to examine. His thumb brushed the faint burn marks, curiosity dressed up as interest.
My vision tunneled.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, squintin’. “That gotta hurt. Kinda pretty though, in a rough sort of way.”
Lark’s smile came slow and polite, sharp as broken glass. “Let go,” she said. Quiet. Firm. Southern soft, but there wasn’t a damn thing soft about it.
He didn’t.
Devil’s voice carried from the bar, low and warnin’. “Don’t.”
Too late.
I was already movin’.
By the time the bastard looked up, my hand was locked around his wrist, twistin’ just enough to make a point. Bone shifted under my grip. His curiosity curdled into panic real quick.
“She told you to let go,” I said evenly. “Now I’m gonna ask you once. You deaf, or you just stupid?”
His chair scraped back hard. “Hey, man, I was just—”
I tightened my hold a notch. Felt the tremor run through him. “You were just touchin’ somethin’ that’s not yours.”
The room went thin and watchful. That charged hush where everybody pretends they weren’t lookin’ while they soak in every second.
Then her hand closed around my forearm.
“Chain.”
Soft. Careful. Familiar in a way that settled me even while the fire stayed lit.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I handled it.”
I looked at her.
She wasn’t scared. Chin lifted. Eyes clear. The only tell was the tension at her mouth, like she was holdin’ herself together on purpose.
For herself.
For me.
I released the man slow and shoved him back into his seat. “You so much as reach out again,” I told him, leanin’ close enough for him to smell trouble, “and I won’t be nearly this polite.”
He nodded fast, clutchin’ his wrist like it might snap clean off.
I turned back to her. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Though you might’ve just cost yourself a customer.”
“Worth it,” I muttered.
Ruby snorted from the next table. “Hell, Chain. Guess we don’t need security anymore.”
Lark shot her a look, then turned back to me. “You can’t go threatening every idiot who gets handsy.”
“Didn’t threaten him,” I said, glancin’ over my shoulder. He was pale now, starin’ into his drink like it held answers. “Just educated him.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was warmth there. Trust, maybe. Gratitude. Somethin’ quiet and heavy that settled between us.
I wanted to pull her close. Wrap my hand around those fingers he’d dared to touch. Let her feel how solid I was.
Instead, she slipped past me, tray already back in place. Choosin’ the job. Choosin’ herself.
That mattered.
“Chain,” Devil said from the bar, voice low. “You’re gone.”
I didn’t answer.
I watched her walk back into the noise, light catchin’ the scar on her cheek and the marks on her hands she never hid. My chest ached in a way I didn’t have words for yet.
Gone?
Yeah. Maybe.
But I’d crossed harder lines for a hell of a lot less.
And she was worth every bruise I’d ever earn.