Chapter Nine
Prime
Sunlight pushed in weakly through the blinds and cast thin stripes across the clubhouse floor. It wasn’t the kind of bright morning that felt fresh or new, it just felt like more of the same tension we’d been living in.
I was on my second cup of coffee by the time Shay walked into the main room, wrapped in one of her oversized sweatshirts, her bright red hair in a messy knot on top of her head. She looked like she hadn’t slept much but was pretending she had.
She slid onto the stool next to mine at the bar without speaking, like it was already understood that the seat beside me belonged to her now.
I didn’t hate that.
“Morning,” I said and nudged her cup toward her.
She wrapped both hands around the mug and stared at the steam rising from it like it held answers. “Morning.”
Her voice was soft, still scratchy with sleep.
Lost had taken the seat at the table behind us.
If you didn’t know him, he looked like he was half-asleep, one arm thrown over the back of the chair, boots crossed.
But he wasn’t. He never was. The man could snap from relaxed to lethal faster than a switchblade opening. He was damn good for a prospect.
I took a sip of coffee. “You sleep?”
Shay shrugged, her eyes fixed on her cup. “A little.”
“More than yesterday?”
“Maybe.” Another shrug.
She did that when she was trying to downplay something, shrugging, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. Every twitch in her voice, every tiny shake in her hands, every second she spent looking at anything except my face told me exactly what she didn’t want to say:
She was scared.
Still scared.
Still trying to figure out why someone came for her.
I reached over and tapped the side of her hand with my finger. “You’re safe.”
She nodded once, and her eyes flicked up to mine. “I know. It’s just… mornings feel different. Everything feels too quiet.”
Yeah. I felt that too.
Before I could answer, the front door opened, and Pearl stepped inside with Anchor right behind her.
Even from across the room, I could see how exhausted they both were.
Pearl’s hair was knotted in a messy ponytail, and she wore one of Anchor’s sweatshirts that draped halfway down her thighs.
Anchor looked like he’d slept for maybe ten minutes leaning against a wall, and his jaw hadn’t unclenched since Bernice died.
Pearl tried to smile when she saw Shay, but behind it was heartbreak. Raw, unfiltered, and heavy enough to drop her to her knees if she let it.
Anchor stayed close to her shoulder with his hand hovering near her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t want to crowd her.
“Morning,” Pearl said and slid onto the barstool next to Shay.
Shay squeezed her hand. “How are you?”
Pearl exhaled hard through her nose. “Depends on the minute.”
I respected the honesty.
I respected how she didn’t force herself to pretend she was okay.
Pearl stared at the bar top for a long moment, gathering something inside herself, and then she finally said it. “I’m ready.”
Shay blinked. “Ready for what?”
Pearl’s throat bobbed. “To go through Bernice’s cabin.”
Shay’s spine straightened. “Today?”
Pearl nodded. “Yeah. I know it’s going to be hard,” she said quietly, eyes flicking between Shay and me. “But I… I want to feel close to her. And going through her things… it feels like a way to do that. Like maybe she’ll feel less gone if I’m holding something she held.”
Shay’s hand moved over Pearl’s and squeezed gently. “We can do that.”
Pearl swallowed, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Thanks.”
I looked at Anchor, silently asking if this was too soon.
It had only been a few days.
She hadn’t even had time to start grieving properly. Most of us hadn’t.
Anchor shrugged lightly. “You think I can talk her out of doing something she wants to do?”
Pearl glared at him like he’d said something stupid.
Anchor smirked. “Didn’t think so. If you stay with the girls, with Lost, then Push and I can finish the last of the surveillance on the island. We open in three days.”
I winced inside.
Three days.
Three days until Skull Island opened its doors again.
I had doubts about reopening. Hell, we all did. But the truth was, Anchor wasn’t wrong. Not this time, and not ever when it came to keeping the club alive.
Security upgrades had wiped out more funds than we planned for.
Cameras, motion sensors, new locks, reinforced doors, thermal tech at the treeline—none of that came cheap, and doing it all at once?
Even worse. We weren’t broke, but we were damn close to the “watch the bank account like it’s a fucking hawk” stage.
We needed money flowing again.
The haunted house was our biggest moneymaker. The boat tours too. The merch. The food stands.
Without all of it running? We didn’t last another season.
“I’ll stick with them,” I said. “Nobody gets out of my sight.”
Shay’s shoulders loosened a fraction, and I knew it was because she trusted the person doing it.
Me.
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
Anchor placed a hand on Pearl’s cheek and kissed her gently. “Listen to whatever Prime says.”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“I mean it,” he replied and leaned in until their foreheads touched.
The room fell still, giving them privacy without really trying.
Pearl whispered, “Okay.”
Anchor stepped back, and in the same motion, Push walked through the front door, gear slung over his shoulder and an “I’m ready to work” look on his face.
“Let’s go,” Anchor said.
Push nodded and followed him out.
Pearl hopped off her stool the second they were gone.
“Alright, come on,” she said, grabbing Shay’s arm with surprising enthusiasm. “Let’s go see what crazy things Bernice squirreled away in her cabin. And trust me, she had plenty. That woman kept the weirdest shit.”
Shay smiled. “I’m ready.”
Pearl tugged Shay off the stool.
Lost was up instantly, following them like a silent shadow. His face didn’t change. Didn’t soften or sharpen. He was simply… aware. His eyes scanned the windows, the door, the corners of the room.
Good.
We needed that.
I swallowed the last of my coffee, set the mug down, and pushed myself off the stool.
“Time to go,” I muttered under my breath as I followed them toward the door.
We stepped outside together, the morning air crisp and cool against my skin. The sun didn’t do much to warm it. Shay wrapped her arms around herself for a second until she felt my presence beside her.
Her shoulders relaxed.
Her breathing steadied.
And that cracked something in my chest.
The walk to Bernice’s cabin took a few minutes on the winding path that cut through the trees. Birds chirped overhead. Leaves rustled lazily in the breeze.
Lost moved behind us, quiet as a cat, his eyes sweeping every angle.
“Bernice always liked this part of the island,” Pearl said softly as we walked. “Said the trees were the right kind of spooky.”
Shay smiled faintly. “The right kind of spooky?”
“Yeah.” Pearl chuckled. “Not the kind that makes you run. The kind that makes you want to look closer.”
I stayed close enough to hear every word. Shay looked around the woods with curiosity instead of fear, which was good. I didn’t want this place to terrify her. I didn’t want anything to terrify her.
Pearl slowed as Bernice’s cabin came into view.
The small cabin stood tucked between two massive pines, its porch lined with weathered boards and a rocking chair Bernice used to sit in with a cup of coffee. There were wind chimes hanging from the eaves that chimed softly.
Shay stopped beside Pearl. Her eyes softened. “It’s going to be okay.”
Pearl nodded and bit her lip. “Yeah. It is.”
I saw her swallow hard. Felt the shift in her breathing even from a foot away. Grief was hitting her hard, but she didn’t crumble. Just took a deep breath and steadied herself.
Shay reached for her hand again. “We’ll do it together.”
“Yeah,” Pearl whispered. “Together.”