Chapter Seven
THE COMMON ROOM hummed low with the sounds of night. Pool balls cracked across green felt. Someone laughed rough at a joke by the bar. Smoke curled in lazy ribbons under the neon glow. It was a normal night—except for her.
Wren sat on the far end of the couch, stiff-backed, perched like she might bolt if the wrong shadow moved.
She didn’t melt into the cushions like the sweet butts did, didn’t sprawl careless the way Elara sometimes had before her belly grew.
No—she sat balanced on the edge, hands in her lap, a stray hair trailing dark against her cheek.
Her eyes never stopped moving, her hands making those birds out of paper without even looking.
She didn’t stare at the men who stared at her. Instead, she watched the edges of the room. The doorways. The hall that led to the back rooms. The bar. The table stacked with helmets. Every exit, every angle, she catalogued them all, focused and silent.
That’s what survivors did. They remembered everything.
A bowl sat empty on the table in front of her, steam long gone.
She hadn’t eaten much, just enough to quiet the growl in her stomach, but she’d done it without a word, spoon barely clinking against the bowl like she was afraid of making noise.
Even clean, even fed, she moved like silence was a blanket.
Maul leaned on the pool table, chalking his cue, eyes flicking to me. “We talking about this tonight?”
Scyth tapped the edge of his stick on the floor. “We should. She came out of Venom’s place. You don’t keep a secret like that around unless there’s a reason.”
Rex snorted from the bar, downing a swallow of beer. “She may bring shit to our door.”
My jaw tightened. “She stays.” The words came out certain, no heat, no need to raise my voice. But the weight in the room shifted all the same.
Throttle leaned back in his chair, his eyes troubled. He didn’t smirk this time, not really. Just watched her, like she was some puzzle he was half-inclined to solve. I didn’t like his interest in her, not when I already considered her mine.
Wren’s chin tipped down, but her eyes flicked quick to him, then back to her hands, then to the door again. Cataloguing. Always cataloguing.
“She’s a liability,” Scyth said, voice cold, cutting. “If she knows something—”
“Then it’s our job to make sure it doesn’t land in the wrong ears,” I cut him off. My voice stayed even, but I felt the burn in my chest. “She’s under our roof now. That makes her ours. Anyone got a problem with that, they bring it to the war room.”
Maul grunted, something close to agreement. Rex muttered, but didn’t push.
I was Vice President of this club. Warden carried the crown, but I still carried weight, and they best remember it. I didn’t need to shout or swing to keep men in line. All I had to do was speak hard, hard enough that no one mistook it for anything but law.
And tonight, the law was simple: Wren stayed.
I caught her eyes then, just for a second. Ocean-blue, bright and startling even in the haze of smoke and lights. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t look away either. That silence of hers, it wasn’t weakness. It was strength. It was control.
But I knew better than the rest what silence could hide.
She wasn’t just some lost woman dragged from Venom’s hole. Fate had dropped her in my path, and I wasn’t about to ignore that kind of message. Whatever reason she was here, it was on me now. If the cost was flames licking through my own damn life, I’d take the fire and hold on to her anyway.
Men like me didn’t get signs often. When we did, we damn well listened.
***
THE WAR ROOM smelled of wood polish and smoke, the kind of scent that never left no matter how many times Jewel scrubbed the walls. The long table bore scars from years of fists, knives, and spilled liquor. Maps were tacked to the corkboard, routes, supply lines, firebreaks of territory.
Warden sat at the head, broad shoulders filling the chair like a king on his throne. I took my seat to his right, where I’d always been. VP wasn’t just a patch; it was where you stood when the weight came down.
Maul leaned forward, elbows on the table, steady and quiet.
Scyth sat back, his sharp eyes narrowed in thought.
Rex lounged like he didn’t care, though his mouth twitched with every word spoken.
Throttle was opposite me, smoke curling lazy from the ever present cigarette between his fingers.
Hex sat near the board, arms crossed, silent but listening.
Warden’s voice cut through the quiet room. “We got unfinished business.” His gaze swept the table. “Venom’s dead. But the girl—” his jaw ticked once, “—the girl complicates things.”
“She’s not just some stray,” Scyth said, leaning forward. His voice was razor-sharp. “Venom doesn’t hide a woman for years unless she’s worth something. Either he was using her, or she knows things we don’t.”
“She knows too much,” Rex muttered, tipping back his beer. “That’s the problem. Silence don’t last forever.”
I clenched my fists under the table. “She’s not the problem. What she remembers is.”
Warden gave me a long look, then nodded slightly like he’d expected me to speak up.
Throttle flicked ash into the tray. “So what’s the play? Sit on her and hope she never opens her mouth? Or figure out what the hell Venom was doing with her?”
“That’s the question,” Warden said. His voice was calm, but the room leaned into it anyway. “Venom didn’t move without reason. If he had a side project, someone knew. And if someone knew, we need to find out who—and why.”
“Fire Dragons,” Maul rumbled at last. His voice was like stone grinding. “Vandal let him run in the club. If anyone knew his secrets, it’d be him.”
The name hung heavy. Fire Dragons weren’t allies.
They weren’t open enemies either, not since the last truce.
But they were volatile, one spark could set them burning.
Calla may be Vandal’s ol’ lady but that didn’t mean he’d take shit lying down.
Still burns my ass Emmaline is now part of that shitshow.
Warden drummed his fingers once against the table, then stilled. Decision locked in. “We ride to their clubhouse. Sit down with Vandal. See what he knew.”
My jaw tightened. “That’s a risk.”
“Everything’s a risk,” Warden said, his eyes meeting mine. “But leaving her here without answers? That’s suicide.”
I didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He was right, we needed answers. But my gut twisted anyway. Fire Dragons didn’t play straight. Asking questions there wasn’t just fishing for truth. It was throwing a stone into a still pond, watching the ripples reach every shore.
Still, the vote was done. Warden had spoken.
I leaned back in my chair, eyes on the map pinned to the board. If the wrong ears caught wind of what we were after, we’d have more than Venom’s ghost to deal with.
And if that happened, I’d be ready.
***
THE CLUBHOUSE WAS still settled into its late-night rhythm, when we came out of the war room. I needed to talk to Wren before me and Warden rode out.
Wren sat on the edge of the couch still, hands folded in her lap, shoulders tight and eyes alert. Jewel and Elara lingered nearby, talking low. Every so often, Jewel reached out to set a hand close to Wren’s arm—not touching, just near enough to remind her she wasn’t alone.
I crossed the room, boots heavy on the floor. Her gaze lifted the second I came close, those ocean-blue eyes locking on mine. Not wide with fear this time, just watchful. Always watchful. But I saw the trust there.
I crouched in front of her, my knees creaking against the wood. “We’ve got business,” I said soflty. “Me and Warden’ll be gone a few hours.”
Her fingers tightened around the hem of her shirt. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t look away either.
“You’ll be safe here,” I added. “Jewel and Elara’ll make sure. And nobody in this place is stupid enough to go against my word.”
A shadow fell across us. Throttle leaned against the arm of the couch, touching shoulder. His smirk was gone this time when he said, “I’ll keep an eye out too. Make sure nobody gets close she don’t want near.”
The words tightened something in my chest. He wasn’t wrong, Throttle was intimidating when he wanted to be, reliable as steel, but the way his eyes lingered on her a second longer than they should’ve made my jaw clench.
Wren looked at him then, just a flick of her gaze, and I swear I saw the faintest shift in her posture. Like she recognized the offer for what it was. Like she filed it away—as trust.
I stood, squaring my shoulders. “She doesn’t need an audience.”
Throttle lifted his hands in mock surrender, cigarette glowing between his fingers. “Not an audience, brother. Just backup.”
I didn’t like it. But Wren didn’t flinch under his words. She didn’t curl tighter the way she had with Rex or Scyth. She just… watched him.
“Fine,” I said at last, voice sharp as a blade. “But my word stands, she’s under me. Anyone steps wrong, they answer to me.”
Throttle’s smirk returned, small and knowing. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I turned back to her. She was still watching me, eyes wide and unblinking, like she was memorizing every line of my face before I left. My gut twisted hard. I wanted to tell her I’d come back. That nothing in this world could stop me from coming back.
But she didn’t need promises. She needed proof.
So I reached out, brushing my fingers once against the back of her hand, light, sure, enough to ground us both. “You’re safe,” I said again, softer this time. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Her lips parted, just slightly, like maybe—just maybe—she wanted to answer. But silence won.
I stood, turning toward the hall. Warden’s voice barked for me from the door. Time to ride.
But as I walked away, I knew one thing for certain, leaving her behind felt more dangerous than anything waiting out on the road.