Samuel
The barn sits at the edge of the Miller property, half-swallowed by trees and years. It looks harmless and forgotten. But my racing heart hasn’t steadied since Raven whispered about that damn leaf.
Black Walnut.
You don’t get those everywhere.
And you sure as hell don’t get them in your hair unless you’re standing exactly where I’m standing now.
My boots crunch through the leaves as I walk to the barn door. Every sound feels too loud. I shouldn’t be here. Not with the club already neck-deep in shit. And not with Knox watching everyone like a matchbox waiting for a spark.
But if someone else was out here, someone who isn’t her father. If someone from Ridgeback got curious and followed her. If they think she matters to me. That puts her in a different kind of danger.
I stop at the warped door, listening. Breathing slowly. Trying to feel whether the wrongness in the air is paranoia or a warning.
If someone saw me with a woman? That’s one kind of problem. If someone saw Raven? That’s a fucking disaster.
I push the door open. It groans, low and long.
Inside, the light cuts through the slats in thin, fractured beams. Dust hangs suspended and undisturbed. Nothing looks out of place, but the dread in my gut hasn’t eased.
With a curse, I head back outside and make a slow circuit around the barn, checking the tree line, the overgrown path leading in, and the muddy ground near the entrance.
There’s nothing there. No footprints or cigarette butts. No sign that anyone was here.
And yet the feeling won't leave.
Turning around the corner, I spot something. Crouching outside the spot where I had her pressed against the wall is a boot print that isn’t mine.
My teeth clench.
Her father? Maybe.
But there’s another print beside it. That one’s lighter, angled like someone turned fast.
Someone was watching, and they left in a hurry.
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
I wasn’t paying attention. My thoughts were only on getting to her. I could’ve been followed. Worse, someone could’ve followed Raven.
I stand, my jaw tight enough to crack. There’s a whisper of movement, a flicker of something in the corner of my eye, a shadow that shouldn’t be there. I freeze.
Nothing.
It’s just my nerves—my guilt.
I force myself back to the bike and go straight back to the clubhouse. Just act normal. Pretend everything’s fine.
But when I walk in, Knox steps in my path, arms crossed, staring at me like he’s trying to read my goddamn soul.
“Wolf,” he says low. “What the hell’s got you so worked up? And don’t give me any bullshit answer.”
The words land hard.
I swallow, steady my voice, and lie through my teeth. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrow, and I’m terrified he’ll see right through me.
Knox’s stare sharpens, cutting through the dim hallway lights. He’s never been the subtle type. Not with leadership, not with anger, and not with suspicion. Right now, every instinct in him is clawing for the truth.
“You sure?” he asks again, quieter this time. Deadlier.
My heartbeat kicks at my ribs.
He doesn’t know.
He can’t know.
But something in him is sniffing around the edges. And if Knox Sutter senses even a whisper of danger near his sister, he becomes a weapon. A storm wrapped in leather and fury.
I keep my voice steady. “Positive.”
Knox’s jaw works as he studies me, and for the briefest moment, I think he’s going to say Raven’s name. Call me out. Drag the truth into the light and rip the world apart with it. But then a door slams at the far end of the hall, shattering the tension.
Mouse sticks his head out of his room. “Knox? You still need me in the office?”
Knox doesn’t look away from me when he answers. “In a minute.”
Mouse nods and disappears.
Knox steps one inch closer. Not enough to be a threat, but enough to make it clear that he could be. “Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re tired or pissed or dealing with whatever’s in your head. But I need you sharp. Understand?”
My throat tightens. “I’m sharp.”
“You don’t look it.”
I swallow hard. “It’s been a long week for everyone.”
His eyes flick down my torso to where my ribs are still sore under my shirt and then back up. “Yeah. I remember.”
The fight.
The bruises.
The fucking mess behind the warehouse.
He thinks that’s what’s got me rattled. Good. Let him.
“Get some sleep,” he mutters, finally stepping back. “You’re coiled tight enough to snap.”
Relief slides through me, and I nod. “Yeah.”
Knox grunts and turns toward the office, his boots echoing down the hall.
I watch him go, tension bleeding out of my shoulders one inch at a time.
That was close. Too close.
I push out the back door of the clubhouse and step outside. The gray sky is low and heavy. The kind that smothers the horizon and makes everything feel smaller than it is. I drag in a breath, trying to clear my head.
But it doesn’t help. Because Raven’s scared. Her dad’s suspicious. And I found boot prints in the dirt beside the barn that weren’t mine or hers.
Someone was there.
Someone saw us.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out.
Raven: Are you home?
The knot in my chest eases, just a little. But there’s no safety in it. No peace. Only danger wrapped in a girl I would burn the world for.
Me: Yeah. Are you okay?
The dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Then her reply flickers onto the screen.
Raven: I’m scared Dad knows. What if he tells Knox?
My pulse slams.
I shouldn’t see her tonight.
I should stay away.
I should let this thing die before it destroys both of us.
But the next message comes before I can talk myself out of anything.
Raven: Wolf, please. I need you.
Something inside me breaks. I shove the phone into my pocket and head for my bike.
I know exactly what I’m riding toward.
Her father’s wrath.
Her brother’s fists.
The judgment of every man wearing the same patch I do.
And I know how this ends.
Badly.
Bloody.
Maybe with me exiled from the only family I’ve ever had.
But I refuse to hide anymore.
Raven Sutter is mine. And I’ll burn every bridge in Ashbourne before I let anyone, her father, her brother, or the whole damn club, drag us apart.
If I have to steal her away to keep her safe, I will.
But one thing’s certain now. It’s time to stop lying and come clean.
Whatever storm comes next? I’ll face it head-on.
For her.