Chapter 19
I don’t wake up like this.
Not ever.
The first thing I register isn’t the room. It isn’t the faint light slipping through the edge of the curtains or the low hum of the clubhouse starting to come alive downstairs.
It’s her. Warm. Curled into me like she belongs there.
My arm is wrapped around her waist, her back pressed against my chest, her leg tangled with mine like it happened naturally instead of being something that should feel foreign.
Her hair is a mess against my pillow, strands brushing my jaw every time she breathes.
Slow. Even. Alive. Everything in me stills.
Not goes quiet. That’s not the right word.
It settles.
Like something inside me that’s always moving, always calculating, always waiting for the next problem to hit just… stops. For the first time in a long fucking time, there’s no edge. No tension riding under my skin. No immediate scan of threats, exits, angles.
Just, her.
I don’t move. I don’t want to break it. That’s new too.
I’ve had women in this bed before. Plenty.
Quick, meaningless, forgettable. They leave before the I bother getting fully dressed.
They’ve asked to stay but I have never entertained women outside of a quick fuck.
I don’t do this. Don’t wake up with someone in my arms like it means something.
Don’t let anyone get close enough to settle into me like this.
And yet… she’s here.
And sometime during the night, she moved closer. Not away. Closer.
I replay it without thinking.
The way she must’ve shifted in her sleep.
The way her body instinctively sought warmth, found it, stayed.
The way she tucked into me like her system recognized something before her mind could fight it.
My hand tightens slightly at her hip. She doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t tense. She breathes in deeper, like she’s settling further.
Mine.
The word isn’t a thought. It’s a fact. I don’t question it. Don’t analyze it. Don’t try to break it apart into something cleaner, something that makes more sense. It is what it is. She’s mine. And I’m not letting that change.
Her body jolts suddenly. Sharp. Her breath catches hard, dragging in like she’s coming up from under something deep and dark. Her hand grips my arm instinctively, nails digging in just enough to register.
“Hey—”
Her eyes snap open. Wide. Panic hits her fast.
I feel it in the way her body goes rigid, in the way her breathing spikes, in the way her gaze darts around the room like she’s trying to piece together where the hell she is before something bad happens again.
“Easy,” I say, tightening my hold just enough to ground her, not trap her. “You’re good. I’ve got you.”
Her chest rises and falls too fast. Her eyes find mine. And for a second, she freezes. Not because she’s calm. Because she’s deciding.
I hold her gaze. Don’t move. Don’t crowd. Don’t give her anything unpredictable to react to. “You’re safe,” I tell her.
Her breathing stutters. Her grip on my arm tightens.
Then slowly, it eases. Not gone. Not even close.
But less. Her shoulders drop a fraction.
Her eyes search my face like she’s looking for something specific, something she can latch onto, something that either confirms or breaks what I just said.
“I believe you,” she whispers. The words land harder than they should.
Because she shouldn’t. Not like this. Not yet.
“But I don’t know why,” she adds, her voice quieter now.
I nod once. “You don’t need to yet.”
Her gaze lingers on mine. Longer this time. Then her brow furrows slightly, like something just occurred to her. “What’s your name?” she asks.
“Cobra.”
Her lips part slightly. There’s no immediate fear. Just confusion. “Why do they call you that?”
I watch her for a second. She’s still too pale. Still too shaken under the surface, even if she’s holding it together better than most would. “That’s a story for another time,” I say. “You’re not ready for that one yet.”
She studies me like she might push. Then decides not to.
Smart.
Her gaze shifts around the room. Taking in the space. The bed. The door. The fact that she’s in it with me. Something flickers across her face. Not panic. Not exactly. Awareness. “I fell asleep in here,” she says.
“You did.”
“With you.”
“Yes.”
She lets out a small breath, like she’s trying to process that without letting it spiral.
Her eyes flick back to mine. Something settles in them again.
Not fully understanding. Not fully acceptance.
But not rejection either. That matters. I shift slightly, easing her back just enough to sit up.
She follows, slower, still careful with her movements.
“I’ve gotta go to church,” I say.
She blinks. Then she laughs. It’s quiet. Still a little rough. But real. “Church?” she repeats.
“That funny?”
“I just… wasn’t expecting that from you.”
“Not that kind of church,” I tell her.
Her lips twitch slightly. “Figures.”
I nod toward the bathroom. “Brooke grabbed you clothes. They’re in there. You can shower. Lock the door. No one’s got a key but me.”
Her eyes narrow slightly at that. “Reassuring.”
“It’s meant to be.”
She considers that. Then nods once. “Okay.”
“Brooke’ll come check on you,” I add. “I’ll be back soon.”
Her gaze lingers on me again. Something softer this time. Something that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t like.
I don’t move for a second. Just look at her.
Her face is still too pale, but there’s color coming back slowly. Her lips are soft, full, slightly parted like she’s about to say something else and hasn’t decided if she should.
I want to take them.
The thought hits hard. Immediate. Not a suggestion. Not curiosity.
Want.
Her eyes flick to my mouth like she felt it. Like she knows. And for a second she doesn’t pull away. That’s the problem. That’s the line.
I shift away before I cross it. Not yet. Not like this. I lean in just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. Soft. Controlled.
Mine.
“I’ll be back soon, angel.” The word leaves before I think about it.
She doesn’t argue it.
I turn and walk out before I give myself time to do something I can’t take back.
Church is already full when I step in.
Smoke hangs low in the room. Men packed in tight. Cuts stretched across shoulders, tension sitting heavy between them. Logan stands at the head of the table, arms braced, jaw locked. This isn’t routine. This is pressure. And I’m the center of it.
Logan’s eyes cut to me the second I walk in. “You’re late.”
“I had shit to handle.”
His gaze sharpens. “I’m sure you did.”
I take my seat. The room shifts. Not loud. Not obvious. But every man here knows what this is about.
Logan doesn’t waste time. “We’ve got a RICO investigation still sniffing around our doors,” he starts, voice hard and controlled. “Brynn’s still getting calls about her brother. That hasn’t gone away.”
Murmurs ripple through the room. Low. Controlled. Unhappy.
“And now,” Logan continues, his gaze locking on me, “we’ve got a separate operation grabbing women off the streets with files on them.”
Silence drops heavy. No one likes that. No one here tolerates that.
“But that’s not the only problem,” Logan adds. His eyes don’t leave mine. “You brought an unconscious woman into my clubhouse with bodies in tow and heat already building. Then you walked past me when I told you to stop.” There it is. Laid out. In front of everyone.
Disrespect.
I don’t respond. Don’t defend. Don’t explain.
Logan watches me for a second longer, like he’s waiting for something. He doesn’t get it. “Punishment’s coming,” he says finally.
“Yeah,” I answer. No argument. No apology. Just acknowledgment. That settles something in the room. Not approval. But understanding.
Logan moves on. “We’ve got four men downstairs. Three dead One talking. We’ve got partial intel. Not enough motive. Not enough structure. Which means we’re dealing with something bigger than a one-off.”
Shadow nods slightly.
Hammer shifts his weight.
Blaze mutters, “Love that for us,” under his breath.
Logan ignores him. “Which brings us to her.” The words land.
No name. Doesn’t need one. Everyone knows.
“She’s not club,” Logan says. “She’s not tied to us.
Which means we’ve got options.” He looks around the table.
“Safehouse. Outside medical. Move her off property.” Each option lands.
Each one makes sense. Each one is wrong.
“She stays here.” The words come out flat. Final.
Logan’s gaze snaps back to me. “Why?”
“Because they know her life. Not ours.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It is.”
Logan leans forward slightly. “You’re making this personal.”
“I’m making it controlled.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is right now.”
The room tightens.
Shadow watches.
Hammer stays quiet, but his presence leans my way.
Blaze shifts, reading the room, not pushing.
Joker smirks faintly. “Could always let the guy downstairs draw us a map in blood,” he says lazily. “Might speed things up.”
Logan cuts him a look. “Not helping.”
“Just offering creative solutions.”
“Stop.”
Joker leans back, amused.
Logan turns back to me. “Protection is one thing,” he says. “Claiming is another.” There it is. Out loud. In front of everyone.
I don’t hesitate. “She stays.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“She’s under me.” The words land heavier. Clearer. No room to twist them.
Logan’s eyes narrow slightly. “You’re saying that real careful, Cobra.”
I don’t look away from him. “I’m not saying it careful.” The room stills. No one shifts. No one speaks. Even Blaze shuts the hell up. I lean forward just enough that every man at this table hears me without me raising my voice. “I’m claiming her.” That lands. Heavy. Permanent. Final.
Logan’s jaw tightens. “You sure you want to say that in here?”
“I already did.” A beat passes. Then another. “She’s mine,” I continue, my voice flat, controlled, leaving no space for interpretation. “She falls under club protection. Any threat to her is a threat to us. Anyone touches her answers to me first… then the rest of you.”
Now the room reacts. Not loud. Not chaotic. But it shifts. Because this isn’t instinct anymore. This is law. This isn’t casual. This isn’t temporary. This is a line.
Logan stares at me. Long. Hard. “You think you can just bend the club around your instinct?” he asks.
“No.”
“Then what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Building around it.” That hits. The shift is immediate. Small. But there.
Logan exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face before dropping it back to the table. “You’re a problem.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to cost us.”
“Maybe.”
His eyes harden. “And you’re not backing off.”
“No.”
Another pause. Then Logan leans back slightly, decision settling in. “Then we do this right,” he says. “We find who’s behind it. We lock it down. And you don’t make another move without clearing it.”
I don’t agree. I don’t argue. I just nod once. Because for now that’s enough. But we both know. This isn’t over. Not between us. Not with her.
And definitely not with whoever the hell thought they could put Olivia Martin’s name on a list and walk away from it.