Chapter 38 Sloane
Sloane
Darla's fingers are still on my wrist. Candace is still standing, rigid, watching the door as though she expects him to come back with a smile and a gun. Kyle rises from his table and moves toward us without rushing. Rider shifts closer, casual, quiet.
Candace turns to me, and the second her eyes find my face, the anger sharpens. I watch her sort it, file it, pack it down where it's useful. "Car."
I try to stand.
My legs don't cooperate. The floor feels too far away. My vision narrows at the edges. I hate it. I hate that my body betrays me, that one look from my father can reduce me to something fragile when I'm trying to be stone.
Darla slides her hand up and grips my elbow. "Hey. I've got you."
I nod, but my throat is tight and my mouth tastes of copper.
Candace clears the path, shoulders set, a battering ram in heels. Kyle is on my left. Rider on my right. Darla pressed close behind, firm grip on my arm.
We make it outside, and the brightness hits with the force of a slap.
Street noise sounds too sharp. Cars. Voices.
The hiss of tires. My skin feels too thin.
By the time we reach Candace's car, my hands are shaking so badly I can't work the handle.
Candace opens the back door without comment, having already decided I don't need to prove anything. I slide in. The door shuts.
My lungs forget how to work. Heart hammering so fast the beats blur together. My hands go numb, painfully alive, tingling and sharp as pins.
"I'm sorry," I hear myself saying. "I'm sorry, I'm—"
Candace swings in, slams her door, grips the wheel as though it's the only thing keeping her from driving through the café window. "Stop apologizing. You didn't do anything."
Darla climbs in front, twisting immediately. "Sloane, breathe with me. Look at me. In—"
I try. But the air won't go down, and my throat is closing. My father's voice keeps replaying: consequences follow people who forget where they came from.
I shake my head, fingers clawing at my jeans. "He-he said Knox—"
"I know," Candace says, jaw tight.
"He said Alice." The words scrape out raw. "He talked to Alice."
Darla grabs my hand between the seats. "Okay. You're here. You're with us. He's gone."
Candace's eyes flick to the rearview, to Kyle through the window. He's standing outside, phone already to his ear. He catches her glance. Nods once. Knox has been called. The thought should soothe me. Panic doesn't care about logic.
I press my forehead to the seat, eyes squeezed shut. I hate how I can treat a gunshot wound without blinking, but my father can reduce me to this.
Darla stays steady. "Sloane. Look at me. Please."
I force my eyes open.
Her face swims, too close, too bright, but she holds my gaze as though she's pinning me to the present. "Five things you see. Right now."
My lips tremble. "The dash. Your earrings. Candace's hands. The air freshener."
"It's not an air freshener," Candace says. "It's leather conditioner."
"Good," Darla says. "Four things you feel."
"The seat. My ring. Your hand. My pulse."
"Three you hear."
I drag sound into my head. "Cars. People outside. Kyle's voice."
"Two you smell."
Inhaling too sharply, I cough. "Coffee. Candace's… whatever the hell she thinks discipline smells like."
Candace huffs a sound that's almost a laugh.
"One you taste."
"Metal."
Darla nods, eyes shining. "Stay with me."
My breathing is still wrong, but less jagged. Hands still shaking, but mine again.
I hear the motorcycle. Loud and unmistakable, the rumble rolling over the street, thunder with a heartbeat. It cuts through everything, cars, café chatter, my own breathing, and my body turns toward the sound before my brain catches up.
Knox pulls up hard and controlled, killing the engine as he swings off. Helmet off. Cut on. His gaze sweeps the scene in a single brutal scan, Candace, Darla, Kyle, Rider, and locks on the back seat window, the rest of the world falling away.
He doesn't ask questions.
Knox walks straight to the door, crouching so he's level with me. His eyes hit my face. His jaw locks, vein pulses at his temple, eyes go hot, and very, very controlled.
"Sloane." Certain. My voice is gone. I drop my gaze, unable to hold his, and his hand is there, two fingers curling under my chin, guiding my face up. "Look at me." I do, and see a faint sheen of sweat at his temple. He rode too hard to get here. "I've got you." A claim. "Breathe."
I shake my head. "He was there."
His nostrils flare. One fast glance at Candace. "Your dad."
She nods sharply. "Approached us in the café. Dropped Alice's name. Threatened her without touching her."
His eyes go black. His hand slides to the side of my neck, thumb over my pulse, anchoring me through skin. "Okay. Stay with me."
He shifts closer and drops. Puts one knee on the pavement, palm still on my neck, the other catching mine. He cups them palm to palm, enclosing the tremor, building a barrier around it.
"Cold hands," he murmurs. "Count with me. In. Two. Three. Hold. Out."
I follow because his voice gives me something to hook onto. In. Two. Three. Hold. Out.
Again. My chest still spasms, but air goes deeper. Fingers stop tingling and start aching, the sensation returning the way a bruise does.
Knox leans closer, forehead almost touching mine. "You're in my city. He doesn't get to touch you here."
A shuddering breath tears out of me. It's a small, broken sound and Knox moves. One hand stays at my neck, the other settling at my waist.
"I'm getting you out."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can."
No doubt in his words. He reaches in, arm behind my knees, other behind my back, and lifts me without effort. I cling without thinking, fingers grabbing his cut. The scent hits: smoke, cedar, and the faint bite of gasoline. My grip loosens on his cut. Just a fraction. Just enough.
Darla's voice wobbles. "Sloane—"
Knox turns his head slightly. "She's coming with me." Quieter. "You did good."
Candace steps out, fury in every line. "I should've broken his nose."
"You didn't," Knox says. "That means you were smart." His eyes flash with a violent promise under control. "I won't be."
Kyle shifts, phone still in hand. "We got his plate. Ran it as soon as he pulled out."
Rider gives a single nod from the side, eyes on the road.
Knox's gaze flicks to them. "Good. Back to the club. Now."
He carries me to the bike. My boots hit the pavement, and he keeps his hands firm at my waist until my legs hold. He fits the helmet over my head, his movements practiced and precise, fingers tugging the strap snug. Knuckles brush my skin, brief but steady.
Knox guides me onto the bike, pressing my thighs in, shifting me flush to his back. He squeezes my thigh. Firm. Certain. The same place he always puts it, checking I'm real before he moves.
"Hold on."
I cling. Cheek to his shoulder blade. The vibration rolls through my arms, a low purr.
We move. Street noise blurs. The wind batters the helmet until I can't hear anything but the engine and my own breathing.
Knox's back is a wall, broad, solid. He finds my thigh again at every red light, palm warm through my jeans, thumb pressing hard enough to say still here.
I match my breathing to his shoulders because it's the only rhythm that makes sense.
By the time we reach the gates, my hands aren't numb. They're tight around him, knuckles aching, but mine again. The compound has been activated. Prospects are moving with purpose, opening gates, watching the perimeter. Nash is outside with East, both standing sentry.
Malachi emerges as we roll in, gaze sweeping Knox, landing on me. His face hardens as though the air got colder.
Knox kills the engine, swings off, then reaches for me. "Easy." He helps me down, knowing my legs are unreliable. He lifts my helmet off. His hand finds the small of my back and stays.
Candace and Darla arrive seconds later. Darla is out before the engine cuts, crossing the yard straight to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, needing the contact as much as I do.
"You're okay," she whispers unsteadily.
East is there, quiet and solid, hand at Darla's lower back, the other brushing her arm in a checking sweep. "You good?" he murmurs.
"Yeah." She doesn't let go of me, but leans into his presence behind her.
Maggie appears in the doorway, apron on, and one look at my face sends her turning. She's back with tea, steam curling. She presses it into my hands. "Drink." Her voice is the kind of gentle that isn't optional.
The heat burns my tongue, sharp and immediate, pulling me back one sense at a time.
James approaches gradually. "You're here. You're safe. Let your body catch up."
Candace hasn't moved from the yard's edge, jaw clenched, eyes tracking the road. "He came right up to her. In public. Like he could."
Malachi is at her side before she finishes. He stands close enough that his presence is unmistakable. "You okay?"
Sharp exhale. "I am now."
His palm settles low on her back. "He won't get that close to her again."
Knox's voice drops, low and flat and final. "Being out in public protected him from Candace. It won't protect him from me."
I should be alarmed. Instead, my chest unlocks a fraction. He says it the way he'd say it's raining.
Frankie slips out, hair up, eyes sharp. One look at Darla's pale face and my trembling hands makes her mouth tighten. "Girls' night," she says, not asking. "My loft. Or the tattoo shop. Somewhere you can breathe."
Darla nods too fast. "Yes. Please."
Arden appears behind Frankie, gaze sweeping the yard, road, Knox. "I'll check on the stray," he says calmly, as though he's talking about a dog in traffic.
Kyle chimes in. "I've got the café cameras. Manager owes the club." Victor appears with Olivia. His presence is a wall, and when he looks at me, I recognize the expression. The one people wear when they've had their own version of this morning.
"We have resources," Olivia says softly. "Connections. Safe houses. People who owe us."
"Phoenix," Malachi says. "We loop him in."
Candace's eyes flick to me. "Alice is the thread. If she's talking to him, she's the leak."
My stomach turns.
Knox draws in, pressing higher at my back. He dips near my ear. "Stay with me. Don't leave your body."
I breathe.
East leans against a post. "We've been waiting for this. For him to get bold."
"Bold men make mistakes," Nash says in a flat voice.
Malachi turns to me, and the air changes. "Sloane. I need to know what he said. All of it."
The tea trembles in my grip. Darla's arm tightens. Candace steps closer. Knox stays behind me. I close my eyes for half a second and pull the memory forward.
"He said he ran into Alice. That she told him she'd seen me. That I looked settled." My throat tightens on the word. "He said he'd been looking for me. That I don't vanish from his life because I decide I'm done."
A low, furious sound comes from Candace. His grip flexes once.
"He said consequences follow people who forget where they came from." My voice shakes. "He mentioned Knox. The club. As though he was tasting the words."
Malachi's jaw tightens. "He's testing fences."
"Yes," Candace snaps. "And he knows we won't touch him in public."
Knox's voice comes out low. "Public is a variable. Not a shield."
I turn my head and look at him fully for the first time since the café. His eyes locked on my face, reading, tracking, measuring. His mouth softens when my gaze catches his.
"You're with me."
I hold his gaze.
Candace forces a breath. "We need a plan. A real one. Not just rage."
Frankie lifts her brows. "We can do both."
Maggie steps in. "First, she eats. Rests. You strategize after."
Knox's fingers press between my shoulder blades. I stop arguing.
"You fight better when your blood sugar isn't scraping the floor," James murmurs.
Darla squeezes my shoulders. "Please. Just let us do this."
I let them.
Knox leans down, mouth near my ear. "We're not letting him pull you back into that place."
"He already—"
His fingers press once, firm. "He doesn't get to finish it."
Malachi cuts through again. "Alice. Phoenix has been looking for her too. He'll be interested she showed up here."
"And Amelia?" Candace catches the thread. "She's coming back."
One nod. "On her way."
Darla's hand slides to her stomach without thinking, away again. She catches me noticing and offers a small, almost helpless smile. I squeeze her hand. A silent promise.
Frankie claps once. "Okay. Tomorrow night. Girls' night."
Darla exhales. "Tomorrow?"
"Tonight we rest. Tomorrow we reclaim." Frankie turns, eyes already moving as though she's lining up chess pieces. "Someone call Ruby. If she hears secondhand, she'll retaliate."
A corner of Candace's mouth twitches.
The compound shifts into its assignments. Arden sweeps the perimeter, Kyle pulls footage, Rider is at the gate, Victor makes calls, Olivia drafts routes.
And Knox stays at my back the whole time.
Maggie guides me toward the bar, murmuring about food. I move because my body has started obeying. Coffee and fried onions hang in the air.
Knox follows, boots heavy. When I stop near the bar, he stops behind me close enough to feel without turning.
"You did good," he murmurs.
My laugh is small and broken. "I didn't do anything."
"You stayed. You didn't disappear inside yourself."
My fingers tighten around the tea. It's cooler now, sweet on my tongue.
Knox's touch trails from my back to my waist, fingers spreading over my stomach, claiming the center of me. His mouth brushes my temple so briefly it's almost nothing. My skin sparks anyway.
"You're mine," he murmurs, so low it barely exists. "And I'm not letting him forget it."
I turn my head. My cheek brushes his jaw. The stubble scratches, real and solid.
"I'm done running," I whisper, the words coming before I can weigh them.
Knox goes still. His grip tightens. "Say it again."
I close my eyes, letting his warmth seep into my spine. Around us is the low rumble of voices, plans forming, the compound shifting into defense.
I open my eyes and stare at the dartboard on the far wall, metal ring catching a sliver of light.
"I'm done," I say, and my voice doesn't shake.
Knox holds firmer, his mouth at my ear. "Good. Because I need you at that table when Malachi lays out what we've got on Alice."
My stomach sinks. But I nod.