Chapter 4 #2
I look down at the contract again because instinct tells me to check the language before I decide how badly I want to ruin everyone’s plan.
The marriage clause sits halfway down the page: to preserve continuity of alliance, a marital bond shall be established between Saint Solomon Masters, vice president and heir apparent of Obsidian MC, and a member of the Ward family, ruling bloodline of the Rogues MC, to be selected and confirmed at signing by mutual agreement of both club presidents.
A member of the Ward family.
The file Sol handed me said Varina. Canon has been speaking as if the matter were settled.
Varina has been sitting across from me like a woman already fitted for a cage.
But the contract itself leaves room wide enough to drive a truck through, and Moth doesn’t make mistakes like that unless he wants me to have somewhere to move.
I glance at him. He doesn’t lift his eyes, but one finger rests beside the clause as if he’s already found the same opening and is waiting to see whether I’ll use it.
Canon’s voice cuts back through. “The Rogues stand by blood. My daughter represents that blood with strength.”
Sín gives me the smallest shake of his head. It’s barely there. If I weren’t watching him so closely, I’d miss it. A tiny, desperate movement that says don’t, please, whatever you’re about to do, leave me out of it.
A smarter man would listen. Dragging a man I had once in the dark into the middle of a club alliance because I like the color in his face would be reckless if lust were the only reason.
It isn’t.
The problem is where he’s standing. Nobody puts an irrelevant man there.
He isn’t at the door with the muscle, and he isn’t behind Canon like a son being displayed.
That placement speaks louder than Canon has all morning.
Sín is important to the machinery and invisible to the men who benefit from it, which means Canon has spent decades staring at his own blood and missing the only interesting thing on his side of the table.
I feel my mouth start to curve.
Bricks notices first. “Oh, hell.”
Canon stops mid-sentence. “Problem?”
Bricks looks at me, then at the Rogue side, and leans back like he’s settling in for a show. “Probably.”
Sol’s attention sharpens, though his posture doesn’t change. “Saint.”
He says my name quietly, a warning and an invitation to explain myself before I turn the table over.
I pick up the contract and read the marriage clause one more time while the room waits.
Waiting is pressure when you know how to use it.
Canon almost fills the silence, but I lift one hand before he starts.
“Who’s the man behind Varina?”
Every head shifts toward the wall.
Sín freezes under the sudden attention, and there’s a mean little part of me that enjoys the way the whole room finds him because I decided they would.
Canon follows my gaze with irritation already forming. “That’s my eldest. Oisín.”
Oisín.
The name settles into the room with a softness that doesn’t belong there, and I feel the small private syllable he gave me in the club become something fuller. Sín was darkness and anonymity. Oisín is daylight and bloodline and a problem everyone forgot to count.
Canon gestures vaguely, already dismissing him. “He handles logistics. Books. Support work.”
Oisín’s expression doesn’t break, which makes the dismissal uglier. He’s heard worse in that same tone, probably from that same mouth, and his body knows how to take the hit without making anyone else uncomfortable.
I set the contract down and look at Canon. “Support work got him in this room?”
Canon’s eyes narrow. “He compiled the financials and route projections. Varina wanted him present in case numbers came up.”
Varina cuts in before he can say more. “I wanted him present because he knows the routes better than anyone at our table.”
Oisín looks at her then, startled by the defense. Canon’s jaw tightens, and when he says, “He’s useful,” the word comes out like a compliment men are supposed to survive on.
I glance at Oisín. His eyes are lowered again, but the red in his face has turned painful. He shakes his head once more, no longer hidden well enough to escape Varina’s attention. She looks from him to me, confusion slowly taking over her expression.
“What the fuck is this?” she asks.
Canon turns on her. “Watch your mouth.”
“No, I’m asking a real question.” Varina leans forward, eyes on me now. “Why are you looking at my brother like that?”
Rook’s hand moves under the table, Bricks stands halfway from his chair before the man can get stupid, and Moth says, “Hands visible,” in a tone so flat it takes a second for the threat to land.
Sol exhales smoke. “Everybody stays seated.”
Canon’s gaze cuts to Oisín, then back to me. He’s behind the moment, but catching up fast. “You know my son?”
Oisín’s breathing changes. I hear it, or maybe I imagine I do because I remember how he sounded when he was trying to stay quiet. Either way, the room feels suddenly too focused, too hungry, every predator turning toward the softest movement.
I smile. “Not by that name.”
Varina’s chair slams back first. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Oisín whispers, “Varina.”
Canon rises slower, which makes it worse. “Explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Oisín says quickly, the panic in his voice doing more to confirm the truth than anything I could’ve said. “It was nothing.”
I don’t like that. My smile stays where it is, but my attention locks onto him hard enough that he feels it. “Careful.”
His eyes snap to mine, and there’s fear there, embarrassment bright enough to burn, but underneath both sits the same response I remember from the club, the part of him that recognizes command before his pride can shield him from it. He hates that I can see it. He should hate me a little right now.
Varina steps in front of him, enough to cut the line of sight between us. That earns my attention and more respect than she’s managed all morning.
“You don’t get to careful him,” she says.
Bricks murmurs, “Well, that’s about to be a problem.”
Canon’s voice drops. “What did you do?”
Oisín’s face goes white beneath the flush. “Nothing that concerns the club.”
Canon starts toward him. “Oisín.”
I stand, the room tightening so fast it feels like the walls move.
“Sit down, Canon,” Sol says.
Canon stops, not because Sol ordered it, but because ignoring Sol in our meeting room with Obsidian officers on both sides would turn humiliation into strategy for us.
I keep my gaze on Oisín over Varina’s shoulder. “Contract says Ward family.”
Varina goes still. Canon turns back to me slowly. “The understanding was Varina.”
“I’m not interested in the understanding.” I pick up the contract and turn it so Canon can see the clause, though I know he won’t look at it. “The agreement requires a Ward. He’s a Ward.”
Rook says, “You think you can just swap them like horses?”
Bricks lets out a hearty chuckle, glaring at the Rogue. “You want to keep talking?”
Moth’s voice cuts between them. “The clause is valid as written.”
Canon snaps, “Stay out of this.”
Moth looks at him for the first time. “I wrote it.” That shuts the room down for half a breath.
Sol finally leans forward. “Canon, your side reviewed the language.”
“My side reviewed an agreement made in good faith.”
“Good faith doesn’t override ink.”
Varina laughs once, not quite believing what she’s hearing. For the first time, her composure seems to crack as she drags a hand through her hair. “So that’s it? I get replaced at the table because Saint fucked my brother somewhere before breakfast?”
Oisín makes a wounded sound under his breath. “Varina, stop.”
She turns on him. “Did you know who he was?”
“No.”
My smile flickers for a moment because even if I hate the idea of marriage, I hate that everyone seems to be angry at Oisín for this abrupt change.
Canon looks like he wants to strike someone and hasn’t decided who gives him the best political return. “You expect me to hand over my son because you found a loophole?”
I step around my chair and place both hands on the table.
“I expect you to honor the contract you brought into my clubhouse.” Canon opens his mouth but I shake my head as I continue speaking.
“I get it. You prepared your daughter to take over for the Rogues. Hell, you even prepared her for something like this so she wouldn’t bend at the first sight of something disagreeable.
However, I’m not breaking any rules and if you mention he’s not suited for this or some other bullshit, it’s just going to make you look stupid. ”
Canon’s entire face contorts in anger. “What?”
“See, your daughter just told me that Oisín is the one who prepared all of the routes. That makes him the most useful fucking person in the room. Varina might know how to do business but that’s the last thing I—Obsidian needs.”
Canon’s head snaps toward him. “Say that again.”
Moth doesn’t blink as he steps in for me.
“Oisín compiled your financials, identified the route losses, and understands the corridor pressure points. Varina has political value Rogue-side. Moving her weakens your visible succession at the same time you’re trying to project stability.
Oisín satisfies the blood requirement without removing your heir from your structure. ”
Everyone shuffles a little bit, murmurs rumbling through the room as my father takes in the shift. Then he looks at me. “Is that your position?”
Beneath the calm, he’s asking whether this is impulse or strategy, and whether I’m making him defend a move I haven’t bothered to think through.
“Oisín gives us the blood tie and the operational integration,” I tell him. “Varina stays where the Rogues need her. Canon saves face by keeping his heir in-house. Obsidian gains someone who can actually read the numbers instead of another loud mouth trying to prove she deserves a chair.”
Varina points at me. “You almost had a decent argument before you fucked it up.”
Another chuckle comes from my right hand and I instantly decide I’m going to throat punch Bricks when we get out of here. “He does that.”
I just lean back in my chair, waiting for either Canon or Varina to push back. Maybe even Rook or one of the other Rogues who looks like they want to kill me. As much as Oisín seems to be in the shadows, it seems like they’re still protective of him. Strange.
Oisín steps forward from behind Varina. “No.” The word is soft, but it cuts through more cleanly than the shouting did because no one expects it from him.
Every face turns to meet his again. He’s still beet red, his fingers shaking slightly around the folder, but he looks at Canon first, then at Varina, then finally at me.
“I’m not something you can argue over like a clause. ”
For one second, the room has no idea what to do with him.
Canon says, “Oisín.”
Oisín flinches at his father’s tone, barely, but he doesn’t step back. “You were going to send Varina without asking whether she wanted it. Now he wants me because it suits him better, and everyone’s discussing the strategy like either of us are cargo. Am I wrong?”
Canon seizes the opening. “This isn’t about want. It’s about what the Rogues need.”
Oisín’s mouth tightens. “That’s what you always say when you don’t want to call something cruel.”
The room goes still enough that I hear Demo whisper, “Oh shit,” before Moth cuts him a look. Canon looks at his son like he’s seeing a stranger and an inconvenience at the same time. “You’re forgetting yourself,” Canon says.
Oisín swallows. “No. I think I remembered for once.”
The words shouldn’t affect me, and I don’t like that they do.
I want to put a hand around the back of his neck and move him behind me, partly to protect him from the room and partly to remind everyone where I’ve decided he belongs.
The instinct is ugly, possessive before it’s kind.
I know the difference. I just don’t care enough to pretend I’m better than I am.
Canon takes one step toward him, making me see red.
“Don’t,” I push out through gritted teeth.
Canon stops, his eyes cutting to me. “He’s my son.”
“Then stop talking to him like he’s a dog you’re embarrassed to own.”
The sentence has everyone on their feet, both sides sliding hands to the guns on their hip, each person bracing themselves for a fall out. Varina steps in between her father and her brother, Moth talking over the sudden commotion about optics as Bricks just laughs.
This is getting out of hand.
Some part of me fucking loves it. The other part just wants to drag Oisín out of here, fuck him hard enough to make him pass out, and then enjoy the peace that comes after.
I’m still sitting, waiting for my father to say something when his gaze turns on me. One of those ‘you fucked it up, you fix it’ kind of looks. Gladly. I clear my throat, the chaos dying down almost immediately. “Anyone draws in my house dies in it.”
My gaze trails around the room, one eyebrow raised as both Rogues and Obsidians drop their hands back to their sides, relaxing in the next breath.
Then I land on Oisín, mildly pleased at how flustered he is.
But there’s more than that. He’s humiliated and angry and there’s a bit of terror beneath all of that, too.
The hatred in his eyes is going to make this all that much more fun.
I look at Canon while keeping Oisín in my peripheral vision. “I’ll sign for him.”
Canon’s mouth twists. “He hasn’t agreed.”
“No,” Oisín says, louder this time. “I haven’t.”