Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Ruin
We’re back at the clubhouse, but nothing feels the same.
My gaze drifts across the brotherhood, one face at a time.
Familiar. Trusted. Or… I thought they were.
Sure, Scar’s the traitor. But is he the only one? Or just the one we know?
According to the Romanian fucker—and his mountain of a guard, Tudor—Scar was the only one acting off. The only one worth digging into. The only one who raised flags.
That doesn’t mean he was alone. That’s what’s got every single one of us on edge.
Wolf made the call not to tell the rest of the club. Not yet. Probably because we lost Scar before we even knew to look for him.
When we asked Mihai why his men let Scar walk out, the bastard just shrugged. Like it had nothing to do with him. Like he hadn’t been the one to drop the fucking bomb in the first place.
That amused, calculating gleam in his eyes irritated the fuck out of me, though. Like he was holding something back. Keeping his cards close to his chest. Of course he is. I would too if I were him. Still pisses me the hell off.
“Mihai and Tudor aren’t leaving,” Wolf mutters, dropping onto the stool beside me at the bar.
I frown, my gaze flicking to where the two of them are casually strolling through the main hall like they belong here. “Why?”
Wolf signals Heath for a drink before answering. “Something about wanting to be ‘at the battlefront’ instead of being reactive.”
I snort. “That is reactive. Proactive would be finding Hell’s Army’s base and burning it to the ground.”
Wolf side-eyes me, a hint of amusement breaking through the tension. “You wanna tell him that?” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “Or should I?”
I huff, shaking my head. Then swallow hard. “Where’s Charlotte?”
Wolf doesn’t even miss a beat. “In her room,” he says dryly. “The one you rebuilt to match her Craven Ridge apartment. Gave up your own bedroom for. The one with a full kitchen so she doesn’t feel crowded and lose her appetite. You know… that one.”
I go rigid. My breathing shifts too fast, too uneven.
‘And this one is in love with her.’
Fucking Mihai.
“Are you?” Wolf asks, voice rough now. “In love with Charlotte?”
My fingers scrape against the grooves of my glass. A nervous tick I didn’t even know I had.
I don’t look at him when I answer. “Is Ryder getting this talk too?”
Wolf scoffs, pulling my gaze up. “He’s hung up on Isabelle, from the looks of it.
” He pauses, dragging a nervous hand over his face.
Then quieter, heavier, he says, “And Charlotte’s an adult.
I don’t need to…” He exhales, long and tired, jaw tightening.
“As much as I wanna say I’ll beat your ass if you hurt her, I haven’t earned the right to be her brother like that. ”
He looks worn. Stripped down to something honest and raw.
“You’ll get there, Wolf,” I say quietly. “I think you will.”
He nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “And you?” he asks after a beat, clearing his throat. “You gonna get anywhere with her?”
A humorless laugh escapes me. “I doubt she even has the energy to forgive me—let alone see me like that.”
He downs the rest of his drink in one go and stands. Looks at me like he’s weighing something.
I wait, not even knowing what I’m waiting for.
Approval? Permission? A sliver of hope?
Instead, he smirks. Slaps my back hard enough to jolt me forward, almost spilling my drink. “Yeah,” he says, already turning away, “I wouldn’t hold out for that.”
Fucking asshole. I scowl after him as he makes his way to where Ryder is. Then I pause.
Wait. He’s here?
Which means—
A cold, sharp realization cuts through me.
Who the hell is guarding Charlotte’s door?
I sprint to her room, almost stumbling on the way. Then I freeze when I hear soft laughter ringing through the hallway.
There she is, leaning against her door frame, a wine glass in hand. Laughing with… what the fuck?
Spike stands opposite her. A little too close for my comfort.
Jealousy rolls off of me in waves. I watch him lean close to her ear and say something before taking a sip from his own wine glass. It only enrages me further when she laughs harder.
What the hell is he doing here? Who the hell approved him to guard her door, especially when the bastard called her a traitor and got a beating for it?
“Shane!” I bark, grabbing both of their attention.
I’m careful not to use his road name. He’s not been Spike since the day I demoted him when Charlotte came back. He’d only been patched in for a few months before fucking up.
He looks up at me, suddenly flustered and backing away. “Ruin, I—”
“What’s going on here?” I demand harshly.
“We’re drinking,” Charlotte snaps at me. “What—is that a crime?”
“He called you a traitor.” I jab a finger in his direction before moving toward him. “And why the hell are you drinking while on guard? In fact… how the fuck are you on her guard duty?”
“I-I… it was just a glass and—”
“I offered him,” Charlotte cuts in indignantly. “And how do you still not know how to control your stupid anger, you… you—you hairless Chihuahua!”
Then she shoves me away from Spike for good measure. I barely move but that’s probably because I’m stunned speechless.
Hairless Chihuahua? Is it because I have a buzz cut and no beard?
Christ. Only she has the power to drain my fury and turn me into a melting mess.
I glare at Spike when he coughs to hide his laugh. “You.” I hear a low, unfamiliar rumble from behind me.
Spike and Charlotte freeze, staring over my shoulder with wide eyes. Then I see what’s gotten them absolutely rigid in their skin.
Tudor. The silent, hulking shadow who’s been glued to Mihai since he walked in. The man hasn’t said a single word until now.
He’s staring straight at Spike. Expression blank. “Na?u is calling for you,” Tudor says evenly, before his gaze shifts to me. “You stay with prin?es?.”
I turn fully, frowning at the sheer audacity. “You’ll need to tell me why you need Shane.”
“Wolf,” he replies simply, arms crossing over his massive chest. “Both call for him. Na?u and Wolf.”
Bullshit.
Behind me, there’s a subtle shuffle. Shane trying to slip past, quiet as ever.
I don’t even look—I just shoot my hand out, catching his arm mid-step. “Why?” I ask, eyes narrowing on Tudor.
Tudor’s gaze flicks from me to Shane. There’s the slightest twitch near his eye. Barely there. Easy to miss. “He will investigate other prospects,” he says, tone flat. “Since he is one. Come with me.”
Why the hell didn’t Wolf tell me himself?
The thought hits and then settles. Because he’s been laying traps. Because none of us are getting the full picture anymore. Because trust just got gutted out of this place.
Tudor, on the other hand, is either stupid enough to say things this plainly. Or confident enough not to care.
His lips twitch, just slightly. Like he caught the direction of my thoughts.
“Wolf trusts you,” he adds, watching me carefully. “So I told you. Wasn’t a secret, tovar??.”
The tension in my shoulders eases, just a fraction. I glance back at Shane. He’s already looking at me, questioning. Waiting.
“Shane,” Tudor rasps.
Shane startles a bit at his name. Just for a second. Then his gaze shifts to Tudor. Not wary. Not exactly. Something else flickers there.
Tudor doesn’t react. Just moves slightly to make space for Shane to follow him.
Then Shane exhales, finally stepping forward.
Tudor turns without another word and starts walking. His strides are long. Controlled. Shane follows half a step behind. Almost struggling to keep pace but not quite trying to match it either.
I turn to find Charlotte staring after them as they disappear down the hallway. Her lips are slightly puckered, caught in a small, absent o.
“What?” I ask, softer this time.
My voice startles her. She flinches before quickly pulling herself together. “N-Nothing!”
I narrow my eyes at her, unconvinced.
Her gaze darts away a second too fast. Like she got caught thinking something she shouldn’t have.
Christ. How many other men is she going to notice before she even looks at me?
I huff quietly, dragging a hand over the back of my neck.
Yeah. Good luck with that.
I glance down at myself, then back at her.
Right now, I probably don’t even register as a man to her. More like some loyal mutt trailing behind her every step. A fucking hairless Chihuahua.
A few minutes later, I’m the one sipping port wine from a fancy-ass glass I didn’t even know existed in our club.
The couch is big enough for Charlotte and me, but I can feel the warmth of her presence just a few feet away.
She’s sitting sideways, back resting on a throw pillow at the armrest. Feet up, covered in adorable fuzzy socks.
Her head snaps up to find me watching her like the stupid lovesick fool I am. My mistake for thinking that her phone was keeping her occupied enough that she hadn’t noticed. “Stop staring at me,” she says, but there’s no heat in her tone. “Or would you rather guard me from outside my door?”
I clear my throat, gingerly picking the glass back up. “Sorry.” Then I take a heavy gulp, the wine sloshing down with the whiskey I had earlier.
The buzz in my head gives me pause. Maybe I shouldn’t be drinking while on guard either.
Silence takes over. Enough that I can feel the thudding of my heart against my throat. I haven’t been in her presence in an isolated environment this long—not since the lockdown the day of the ambush.
I’ve made sure to steer clear whenever I’m guarding her. Staying a good five feet away. But I couldn’t refuse the wine she offered me a few minutes ago.
Hell, I’m no different than Shane in her eyes.
“That Mihai guy,” she blurts out suddenly, pulling my gaze toward her wine-flushed face. “He said… why did he say that you’re…”
“In love with you?” Fuck. That’s not how I’d wanted to confess. I’ve only come to terms with it since Mihai so bluntly pointed it out.
I knew my feelings were intense and unwavering. But I hadn’t labeled them. Not because I was unsure. But because they didn’t help anyone.
Voicing them was equally useless if she couldn’t even look at me without her eyes glazing over, with remembered hurt.
She nods, her posture gaining some alcohol-induced confidence. “Yep,” she says, popping the p. “How did he know? Who did you tell?”
“I didn’t,” I tell her with a small smile.
“But then,” she says, a V forming on her forehead. “Why would he…”
I shrug with one shoulder. “Maybe it’s because of how I look at you. I’m trying, Charlotte, but I slip up.”
“You really think you’re in love with me?” She deadpans.
My stomach sinks at how easily dismissible my claim is for her.
I nod, my throat closing up. Words are meaningless when she won’t even believe them. Especially the ones I wish to tell her. But I’m trying to not blatantly confess and ruin her wine night.
“Ruin,” she says softly. Even if a part of me lights up at my name crossing her lips, my chest hurts at the pity lining her tone. “You… you don’t, okay? It’s probably because you spent so much time—err—stalking me.”
My mouth hangs open, brows twisting with a grief I can’t name. I try to shake my head but instead a throaty, horrifying whimper escapes me.
I have no words.
Finally, I manage a semblance of a shake, making her jerk back slightly in surprise. She adjusts herself on the couch and downs the wine before setting the glass on the coffee table.
“No?” She shrugs, shaking her head. “Okay then. Someone tells you I’m a traitor. You believe I’m a traitor.”
Fuck. No. I don’t like where she’s going with this.
She continues, ignoring the way my breathing has changed. “Now someone’s telling you you’re in love with me. You believe you’re in love with me. See what I’m saying?”
God! My feelings—my fucking love—just got reduced to a glaring pattern. A pattern I can’t even refute because it sounds accurate, doesn’t it?
“That’s not—” My throat closes up again, and I swallow hard. “That’s not why I…”
She studies me when I trail off. Her gaze scanning every single inch of my face before it drops to my hands when they clench against my knees.
A shift happens. It’s subtle, but I can see the softening of her eyes.
“Before I thought you betrayed the club,” I begin, voice rough. “My actions didn’t imply that you were a traitor in my eyes—not at all. I just saw you as Prez’s sister who, well… had a crush on me. A crush I didn’t entertain for years because you were young, Charlotte. Too young.”
Her eyes widen a fraction, and I think she’s catching up with my train of thought.
“Now, you could say I did what I did because of guilt or whatever,” I continue hesitantly.
“But my actions before that fu—Mihai said what he said… would imply that it’s true.
That my feelings are aligned with… those words.
I won’t say them because I know you won’t believe them. But, baby, I do—I believe them.”
Her eyes flicker, blinking with slight panic. “Really?” Her voice shakes, eyes unfocused. “You believe them and yet you won’t confess? That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“Okay.” I nod to myself, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. “Okay, I’ll confess, but…” I give her a sad smile. “I’m not trying to convince you, Charlotte. I’m just trying to love you.”