Chapter Eighteen
THE COMMON ROOM was quieter in the morning. A few men lingered over coffee, the constant clink of mugs and low voices filling the space. Throttle sat at the table across from me, boots propped on the empty chair beside him, coffee steaming in his hand.
Ashen had ridden into town with Warden, business he hadn’t explained, and though he’d promised to be back by noon, the hollow space he left behind gnawed at me. He was quickly becoming special to me, and I didn’t have the strength to stop it.
Throttle tried to fill the emptiness with his presence alone.
He didn’t talk much, just sat steady, glancing my way now and then with a nod or the faintest smile, like he was checking I was still there, still breathing. Somehow, it helped. His presence was quiet but sure, anchoring me to the room.
The door opened.
Perfume hit first, heavy and sweet, and then Roxy’s laugh trailed in with her. She swept into the common room like a queen heading to her throne, sliding straight into the circle of women at the bar. They pulled her close, voices rising in bursts of gossip and loud laughter.
Not all of them were cruel, the one called Holly had smiled and waved at breakfast, but a few made their resentment clear. And when Roxy’s voice lifted, I heard my name slip from her mouth.
I froze.
Her gaze found me immediately, piercing as fangs. She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The look was enough, mocking, dismissive, certain she already knew where I stood.
I tightened my hands in my lap, eyes down, but I could feel her stare crawling over me.
Throttle shifted. His boot scraped against the floor as he swung it off the empty chair. His gaze cut across the room to Roxy, then back to me, solid and unbothered.
Just like that, she looked away.
Her laugh came louder, exaggerated, but it rang hollow. Not with Throttle watching.
Her hatred still burned, hot as the desert sun, but I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, hating that I couldn’t seem to get warm enough since leaving that crawlspace, and dared a glance at him. He sat calm as ever, like he was ready to stand between me and anything that came too close.
It didn’t silence the venom simmering in Roxy’s eyes, but it eased the edge of fear in my chest. I had witnessed some cruel women over the last few years, I knew what they were capable of. Men weren’t the only sadistic monsters out there.
Throttle nodded toward the table where a few of my paper birds rested, wings folded sharp and precise. “You make a lot of those.” His tone was quiet, almost thoughtful.
My breath caught. I didn’t answer.
He didn’t look at me, only at the birds. “They’re freedom, right? Something that can fly when you can’t.”
Heat pricked behind my eyes, intense and sudden. My fingers twisted in the blanket, wishing I could tell him he was right.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Don’t let anyone laugh at that, they don’t need to get it, but I do.”
The anxiety inside me eased with his words. He didn’t press, didn’t expect me to say anything back. Just sipped his coffee and kept watch like nothing more needed to be said.
I found myself giving him a smile.
Throttle was more than he appeared, and I liked him.
He noticed, of course. His gaze flicked from his coffee to me, and the corner of his mouth curved, not wide, not cocky, just enough to tell me he understood.
He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. The quiet stretched between us, even and calm, like the simple fact of him being there was enough.
Across the room, Roxy’s laughter spiked again, brittle around the edges. When I glanced her way, her eyes were already on me, pointed and cutting.
But this time, it didn’t sting as deep.
Because Throttle was watching too, calm as stone, and I knew she wouldn’t dare move closer.