Chapter Thirty-Six
BY THE TIME we stepped into the war room the next morning, the place already carried that weight to it, the kind that settled in before a word was spoken, chairs filled, men quiet in a way that had nothing to do with calm and everything to do with what was coming, and I felt it the second I crossed the threshold, my gaze cutting across the table before it landed on her.
Evie sat at my side, not tucked away, her posture straight even if the strain sat just under it, and for a second I let that settle in, the fact that she was here, breathing, out of that hole and back in a room where no one was putting a hand on her, which didn’t make this easier or safer, but still mattered more than anything else in that moment.
Devil stood at the head of the table with his arms crossed, his attention already locked on her as the rest of the room fell in line around that without needing to be told, and when he finally spoke, it cut clean through the silence without needing any edge behind it.
“Start from the beginning.”
Evie didn’t look at me right away, didn’t look anywhere but straight ahead as she drew in a breath and steadied herself before she started talking, her voice quieter than most in this room but not weak or breaking, carrying just enough to hold every man there without forcing it.
She told them what we already knew, about Drago, about the Fire Dragons, about how it started and twisted into something she couldn’t get out of, and I stayed still where I was, leaning back just enough to keep it together, my jaw tightening as pieces of it filled in gaps I hadn’t been able to see before, each one settling heavier than the last.
“Ruby’s gone,” she finished.
Mystic’s voice came next, controlled but carrying the tension we all felt. “She took off?”
Evie nodded once, her hands tightening slightly in her lap before she forced them still again. “She said she wasn’t staying, that she couldn’t testify against Drago, and she didn’t say where she was going… just told me not to worry.”
A low curse moved down the table, not loud but enough, and something settled in my chest at that, dark and certain, because now Ruby had both Drago and the feds looking for her, which was going to end one way if she didn’t get smart fast.
“Feds?” Devil cut in after a second, shifting it before it could spiral too far. “What’d you tell them?”
That pulled the room tight again, every eye on her now, weighing and measuring because this part mattered just as much as anything else.
Evie finally looked up then, not at Devil or the table, but at me, just for a second, and there was something steady in that look that told me she wasn’t guessing her way through this or hoping she got it right.
“I told them the truth.”
Devil didn’t move. “Which is?”
She didn’t look away this time.
“I told them I was seeing Gatsby, that Drago wanted information on the club and pushed me to get close, and when I refused to do what he asked… he took me.”
Silence followed, not empty but measured, because every man in that room was running it through, turning it over, looking for cracks, and there weren’t any that mattered.
My jaw tightened anyway, something low settling in my chest at hearing it said out loud like that, at the way it tied me into it in a way that wasn’t clean or simple, but I didn’t move or interrupt, didn’t break the line she was holding.
“They press you for info about us?” Devil asked.
Evie shook her head. “They had an informant inside the Fire Dragons, and they already knew two women were being held, I just confirmed it. They didn’t ask anything about your club.”
Devil watched her another second before his gaze shifted, sweeping the room and reading reactions as he weighed what came next.
“Not even Montgomery?”
That name sat different now, heavier, and Evie hesitated—not long, but enough that I caught it, enough that my focus sharpened just slightly.
“He questioned us,” she said carefully. “Did his job. That’s it. I swear he never asked about you guys.”
Devil held her there another second before giving a single nod, like he’d decided where it landed, and even though the tension didn’t disappear, it shifted just enough to move things forward, because this wasn’t over—not with Drago still breathing and not with the feds circling the edges of all of it.
My gaze went back to Evie, holding there longer than it should have as something tight and final settled in my chest, because she was in this now, all the way, and there wasn’t a version of this where I let anything touch her again.
***
ONCE THE DOOR closed behind her, the room shifted without breaking, the tension still sitting heavy as the weight of what she’d said settled where it needed to.
Chain leaned forward slightly, his voice rough but measured. “Story holds, but it don’t change what comes next.”
“Drago’s still breathing,” another added, “and if he thinks she crossed him, it won’t matter where he is—not for her, not for Zeynep.”
The room tightened again at that, the reality of it sitting heavy because everyone knew it was true, and Mystic didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll handle him,” he growled, low and dangerous. “I don’t give a fuck how.”
I already knew where this was going before anyone said it out loud.
“She still don’t wear a patch,” Gearhead said, looking straight at me.
“And that means she ain’t protected by us,” Chain finished, the words landing heavier than anything else that had been said.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was thick, heavy, the kind that pressed in while everyone waited to see how it was going to land.
Devil’s gaze moved to me then, steady and unreadable. “You know the law.”
Yeah. I knew it.
“I got it,” I said, pushing forward before anything else could settle in. “She’s mine, and she’ll be wearing my patch before the sun goes down.”
No hesitation, no second-guessing, just the truth of it sitting there where everyone could see it.
Devil held my gaze another second before giving a slight nod. “Then she’s covered, but we move careful. Feds are watching her, and you know they are.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
And I would.
“What are we goin’ do about that fucker Montgomery sniffin’ around Brenda?” Bolt asked.
“Once I tell her what a fuckin’ piece of shit he is,” Horse said, looking way too satisfied with himself, “she’ll throw him aside.”
“You aren’t telling her shit,” Devil cut in, his voice sharp enough to stop it right there. “You’ll only make it worse running your mouth. I’ll handle it after we’re done here.”
That settled it, same as everything else he said in this room, but it didn’t sit right, not with what I’d seen in Brenda lately, the way she looked lighter, like she’d finally let herself believe she’d found something good.
“That conversation will have to wait,” Spinner muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Last I heard, she’s out right now, grabbed dinner with Amy and her new man.”
It was nothing. Should’ve been nothing.
But across the table, something shifted.
Rune didn’t say anything, didn’t move more than a fraction, but I caught it anyway, the way his shoulders went just a little tighter, the way his focus dropped for half a second like something in that name landed harder than it should’ve.
He leaned back, but he wasn’t listening anymore, not really, his gaze distant, like his head was somewhere else entirely, somewhere off this road, off this town.
Men like Rune didn’t react to shit that didn’t matter.
***
Thank you for riding with The Devil’s House MC.