Chapter 10
Slade
My brothers hovered after they found out what had happened with Cutt, and it was suffocating. My lack of emotion about what had happened didn’t help.
In a way, I didn’t begrudge their concern; Cutt always had been an entitled, power-drunk asshole. And with the hint of white powder dusting his nostril, his blown pupils, agitated excitability, and runny nose, someone like Cutt strung out on coke was bad fucking news.
I finally convinced my brothers to leave me in peace at midnight, but then I tossed and turned most of the night.
When I finally give up trying to sleep, my stomach is growling fiercely because I hadn’t eaten anything yesterday, refusing to eat the food the Bunnies had made. Rummaging through my duffel bag, looking for any more protein bars or candy—yeah, I have range like that—produces nothing.
I really don’t want to see my brothers right now with their suffocating concern and guilt, or Ash’s stubborn resolve that I stay here, or Bane’s dangerous closeness that makes way too many things wake up inside me.
But it’s early, an ungodly hour for a biker, and the clubhouse should be all fast asleep still, so I decide to sneak down to the kitchen.
Dressing quickly in my full-body coverage attire, I brush my teeth and wet down the patches of my hair that are sticking up. Then I exit back into the bedroom and go to the bedside table that has my burner cell phone.
The fact that it wasn’t confiscated tells me two things: that Ash trusts me not to call the cops to report they're holding me here against my will, knowing that as an MC brat, I’ve been raised to distrust law enforcement.
And—this one is even more likely than the first—they’re monitoring my phone, trying to find out anything that would help them dig into my secrets.
At some point soon, though, I need to check in with my friends so they don’t worry and make some idiotic decision to come here.
They accepted I was putting distance between us to keep them safe, but if I fell out of contact with them completely, they’d make stupid, rash decisions.
However, I could wait a few more days before checking in with them.
Going to the bedroom door, I pull it open and am not surprised to see a Prospect standing guard outside.
However, this one isn’t Jez. He’s blonde and looks like the boy next door—wholesome and clean-cut—which contradicts his attire and the full sleeves of tattoos on his arms exposed by his T-shirt.
Not to mention the fact that he’s prospecting for the most notorious MC on the West Coast.
“Morning, Slade,” he chirps with a huge smile. “I’m Liam, nice to meet you. Wicked cool name, by the way.”
I can’t help but kind of like the kid.
“So you’re my new guard ensuring I don’t escape?”
His smile fades. “Protector. Cutt never should’ve done what he did. I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Christ,” I mutter. “Where the hell did they find you?”
He laughs as I shut the door, and we walk down the hallway toward the stairs with him beside me, rather than at my back, which makes me relax.
I really do hate having people behind me that I don’t know or trust. It’s a product of how I was raised, which was amplified after my mom’s betrayal, and then exacerbated after Antwane captured and tortured me.
To say I have trust issues is putting it mildly.
“I’ve been friends with Sten for years,” Liam happily informs me. “He’s always talked about his little sis.”
I side-eye him as we descend the stairs. “So Sten corrupted you and pulled you to the dark side.”
He winks. “Nah, I was already corrupted.”
The clubhouse is quiet with not a soul around.
Liam’s boots thud along the floor as we walk. “You want me to wake up one of the Bunnies to make you some food?”
“You need someone to wipe your ass, too?”
He chuckles, his cheeks blushing. Jesus, where did they find this guy?
“Cherry is militant about her kitchen.” Liam winces slightly. “I like my fingers and ears where they currently are.”
We enter the bright, clean, and thankfully, Bunny-free, kitchen. “Guess I have special privileges. You hungry?”
He perks up, reminding me of a puppy excited for treats.
Shaking my head, I go to the fridge to see what I have to work with. Instead of reaching for the eggs and bacon, I go for the thawing chicken and put two pieces on a cutting board, then get peppers and onions, cheese, and tortilla shells.
“Quesadillas for breakfast.” Liam rubs his hands together. “I’m down with that.”
I slice the chicken into thin strips and put them in the frying pan. As I cook and season the chicken, Liam cuts the veggies and grates the cheese. We work in comfortable silence, that is, until he opens his big mouth.
“Your brothers feel horrible. They want to make it up to you and are glad you’re staying.”
My brothers clearly aren’t going to back me in trying to convince Ash to let me leave. Therefore, the Council is my best bet—as leaders, they have a responsibility for keeping the MC safe, especially Bane, as the VP and second-in-command.
I watch as Liam rests his hands on the island. “Stop meddling.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
He eyes me, likely wondering why I have zero emotional tone or expression. Holding out my hand, I say, “Give me the tortilla shells and cheese.”
He looks distressed at my reaction, or maybe because I’m not engaging with his meddling, but he does as I say. I assemble the quesadillas, and he comes to stand beside me. My sleeve has pulled up, revealing the bottom of the thick scar that extends to my wrist, so I pull it down to cover it.
“Sten and your brothers—”
“Stop.” My voice is monotone. “What’s your deal?”
He shifts his weight between his feet, looking even more like the wholesome good boy next door. “I had a rocky relationship with my mom. She died suddenly, and I’ve always regretted not making peace between us.”
“So you’re projecting.”
“No,” he scoffs, then rubs his forehead. “Well, maybe a bit… But it’s also because Sten is a good friend, and we’re all family in the MC.”
Ignoring Liam’s mediation attempts, I turn back to the quesadillas and flip them in the pan.
Like yesterday when I had my back to the kitchen doorway, my spine tingles.
It’s not the alertness of having someone I don’t know or trust at my back, but something else entirely.
It doesn’t cause me alarm, though; instead, it’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, and its charged current is flowing into me.
It’s then that I know Bane is here. How I know that, or how the odd, almost-supernatural reaction is even possible, I’m not sure.
Turning off the burner, I put the quesadillas onto plates and turn to the kitchen doorway.
Bane leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his hazel eyes looking more golden in the early morning sunlight. Scruff lines his jaw, and his dark hair is mussed and falls over his forehead. He’s tall and impossibly broad, with his biceps and forearms corded and taut.
This is a man who is bred to fight, to protect and defend.
And this is a man who is waking up everything inside me.
Tingles awaken in my core, and my emotions stir, demanding to be unleashed instead of buried, repressed, and best to be ignored. As the emotions wake up, so do the tortured screams in my head and the memories from Antwane’s hellish cabin.
It takes superhero strength to push everything back down, but I succeed and return to feeling numb.
Liam has noticed Bane is here, silently regarding me, and his head swivels, looking between us.
“Take your food and leave, Liam,” Bane orders.
Liam doesn’t hesitate to abandon me. He scoops some sour cream and salsa on top of his plate and smiles at me. “Sorry. VP’s orders.”
I don’t begrudge Liam’s reaction, knowing there’s a hierarchy here and an order of command.
Bane steps into the kitchen, moving out of the way so Liam can leave. “Return to regular duty until I call you.”
I cross my arms, watching Liam disappear out the door before I shift my gaze to Bane. “Thought I needed a guard.”
Bane’s eyes flicker over my face, then he walks to the island. The intensity of his stare is unnerving; it’s like something has changed.
Foreboding ripples down my spine, but I try to ignore it.
And try to ignore him by turning and removing the pan from the burner so it will fully cool. When I turn around, Bane is there, and I startle. I may not feel emotions like sadness, joy, or even fear, but my body and mind still respond to surprise and shock.
The scent of leather, pine, and faint gasoline envelopes me along with the sight of Bane, and this renews the efforts of my emotions pushing against their sealed box, demanding to be let out.
I jump back, needing distance between us, stat.
Bane’s hand wraps around my nape to keep me still. “I won’t hurt you, Slade.”
The rumble of his voice—deep, strong, calm—doesn’t just wake up my pussy, but it wakes up my ovaries, too.
I duck down low and twist to escape his touch—hoping he didn’t feel the top of the scar that runs down my spine when I did so—and put space between us.
“I don’t trust you.” I take another step back. My comment makes him jerk slightly. “And I thought I needed a guard, so why did you send Liam away?”
I’ll take Liam’s meddling in family affairs over Bane’s intoxicating presence any day.
His lips press together as a dark look crosses his face before it eases. Without answering my question, he reaches for a tortilla shell, filling it with cheese, the cooked chicken, and veggies. He rolls it into a tight wrap and takes a bite.
I can’t look away from his hard jaw as he chews, nor from his thick, corded throat when he swallows. When I lift my eyes back up to his, his look warns that he wants to discover my secrets.
I need to get away from him.
I can feel my walls shake like they’re about to crumble and my control is loosening.
“I need to talk to Ash,” I blurt.