Chapter 3 #2
Her gaze drifts over me like she’s seeing the full picture now. The ink on my arms. The scars. The kind of body that comes from years of doing hard things instead of talking about them.
“And you were there because of… money?”
“Money trail,” I say. “Velvet Reign looked clean from the outside. The numbers said different. Something was off. Illegal.”
She stares down into her tea. “So you were going to stop it.”
“We were going to plan it.”
Her head snaps up. “Plan it?”
My jaw tightens.
“We save girls,” I say. The words come out rougher than I mean. “But we do it right. So nobody gets caught in the crossfire. So we get more than one out.”
Her fingers curl around the mug. “And tonight?”
Tonight I saw you.
Tonight my body moved before the plan could catch up.
I hold her gaze.
“Tonight I saw you on that stage,” I say. “And I chose speed.”
Her face pales. “You… you bid on me.”
There’s hurt in her voice.
I nod once. “I did.”
Her eyes shine. “So you were buying me.”
I lean forward a little, keeping my hands visible on my knees.
“No,” I say quietly. “I was buying time. I needed the whole room looking at me.”
Her breath catches. “And the other girl?”
“She got out before you,” I tell her. “Tank followed.”
Ruby frowns. “Tank?”
“Club security,” I say. “He’s tracking her transport team right now.”
Her lips part. “He’s going after her?”
“He is.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
Her grip tightens on the mug until her knuckles turn pale. “So the other men with guns…”
“Mine.”
Her eyes flick to the door like she expects them to walk in.
“They went back to the clubhouse,” I add. “They won’t come here.”
She looks at me. “Why?”
“Because you don’t need more strangers in this room,” I say. “You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”
Her throat works. She nods once, quick.
Silence stretches between us.
She looks down at the clothes again. “If I change, will you…?”
“I’ll turn around.”
I’m already standing before the words finish. I face the kitchenette and plant my hands on the counter so she can hear I’m not moving.
Fabric rustles behind me.
A shaky breath.
Then a whisper, almost to herself.
“This is insane.”
Yeah.
I stare at the counter and try to ignore the memory clawing up from somewhere I buried years ago.
A different girl. A different life.
A junkyard that smelled like rust, sweat, and hot oil.
Her father barking orders from across the yard.
Her laugh cutting through the noise.
The way she used to say my name like it meant something.
Then the day I told her I was enlisting.
I wanted out. Wanted purpose. Wanted to stop feeling like I’d been dropped into the world by mistake.
She looked at me like I’d hit her.
“I can’t wait,” she said.
Three months later, I heard she married somebody else.
Buried the soft part of me right then.
After that, women were complications. Weak spots. Something a smart man kept distance from.
Then Ruby Novak walked onto a stage tonight and made my hands shake with rage.
That part I still don’t understand.
“Okay,” Ruby says softly behind me.
I turn.
She’s swallowed by the hoodie and sweats. The fabric hangs loose on her frame, making her look smaller.
Safer.
I hate that I like the way she looks safe more than the way she looked in that dress.
Her hair is still wild. Her cheeks still pale.
Her eyes keep coming back to mine.
“What do I call you?” she asks.
I hesitate a second.
My road name sits on my tongue a moment before I let it out.
“Sin.”
Ruby blinks. “Sin?”
“Kids at school started it,” I say. “Foster kid. Wrong side of town. They figured I must’ve been born in sin.”
Her brows knit together slightly.
“The name stuck.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s measuring the word against the man standing in front of her.
“Brody,” I add after a moment. “If you want the real one.”
Her lips part like she might say it, then she stops.
Like she knows names can make things mean something.
Smart.
“Thank you,” she whispers instead.
I nod toward the mug. “Drink your tea.”
She does.
I watch her while she does it. Her hands. Her breathing. The way her eyes jump when the wind taps the window.
She’s holding herself together with willpower and threads.
So I keep my voice steady.
Keep my body loose.
Keep my distance.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Tank: Moving. Will update.
Good.
Ruby’s eyes flick toward my pocket. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “But Tank’s good at what he does.”
She swallows. “You all are.”
That almost pulls a laugh out of me.
She has no idea what we are when we stop pretending to be polite.
I keep that part to myself.
“For tonight,” I say, “your job’s simple.”
Ruby looks at me cautiously. “What?”
“Breathe,” I tell her. “Finish your tea. Stay inside.”
Her shoulders rise with a shaky breath. “And your job?”
My answer comes out low.
“Make sure nobody ever puts you on a stage again.”
Her eyes sting with tears she refuses to let fall.
She nods once.
Then, after a moment, she whispers, “Do you think they’ll come for me?”
I hold her gaze.
“They’ll try.”
The color drains from her face.
“But if they come for you again, I’ll bury every one of them before they touch you.”
Ruby’s breath shudders.
For the first time since we rode away from Velvet Reign, she looks like she might actually believe that.
I take another sip of tea.
Smoke and cheap herbs.
And somewhere under the anger and the old scars, something shifts.
A reminder.
I’m still here.
Still capable of feeling something other than rage and numbers and war.
Still capable of wanting to protect something that doesn’t belong to the club.
Something that looks at me like I’m the only solid thing left in the room.
I hate how much that matters.