6. Cara
Cara
The first thing I notice the next morning is that nobody's pretending last night didn't happen.
There's no forced cheerfulness, no vague reassurance that everything's fine, no man in a cut telling us not to worry because the club has it handled.
Instead, there are three updates waiting on the security phone when I come downstairs, each one timestamped and clear enough that nobody needs a degree from Condor's school of unnecessarily complicated technology to understand it.
Security Phone:
The SUV on the outer road shortly after ten.
Security Phone:
Falcon, Rook, and Ice Pick holding position while Condor pulled camera footage.
Security Phone:
The vehicle leaving without approaching the compound, patrols doubled through the night.
I read all three before I make coffee, which probably says something about my priorities.
Sarah comes into the kitchen while I’m still standing there with the phone in my hand. She’s wearing an oversized Saints hoodie someone dropped off yesterday, with the sleeves pulled down over her hands.
“Did something happen?” she asks, glancing at the phone.
“The SUV came back,” I tell her.
Sarah stops halfway across the room. Before she has to ask for more, I turn the screen toward her.
“They saw it,” I explain. “Nobody approached, and it left again.”
Her shoulders loosen a little more with each detail. “Was Falcon there?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately.
The response comes too easily. Sarah glances at me, and I recognize that look before the comment behind it can escape.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“I didn’t say anything.” She lifts her covered hands in surrender.
I lower the phone and give her a pointed look. “Everyone in this place has started saying that.”
“It’s depressingly true,” Sarah replies as she crosses to the cupboard and reaches for a mug.
Something is different today. Yesterday, when we saw the alert, we had questions but at least we knew what the club knew as it happened.
Every woman who wanted updates had them, there was no waiting to be told what to feel about it after the fact.
Fear's still here, of course it is, it isn't going to vanish overnight, but fear with information is a lot easier to carry than fear built entirely out of imagination.
Footsteps come down the stairs. Emily’s first, then Maya and finally Lena. Emily looks tired but steadier than yesterday. Maya walks into the kitchen carrying a notebook I recognise immediately.
I point at it. “Is that mine?”
“Yes,” she replies without a hint of guilt.
“Why do you have it?” I ask.
“We’re making improvements.” Maya holds the notebook up as if that explains everything.
I glance from her to the familiar cover. “Improvements to what?”
“The lockdown plan,” she announces, moving the notebook from one hand to the other.
Lena follows her into the kitchen, looking exhausted. “She woke us up at seven.”
“I was inspired,” Maya protests.
“You were obnoxious,” Lena corrects her.
Maya waves away the distinction. “Same thing.”
I hold out my hand. Maya immediately hugs the notebook to her chest.
“You stole it,” I accuse.
“I borrowed it from the table,” she insists.
“Without asking,” I point out.
Maya lifts her chin. “It was a temporary redistribution of resources.”
I take the notebook from her anyway because I’m not losing this argument to a woman who once described a security threat as an opportunity for snacks.
When I open it, I find two pages of additional notes. Most of them are good.
One is not.
I tap the offending item with my finger. “Emergency chocolate?”
“That’s critical,” Maya says solemnly. “It’s for morale.”
Sarah leans against the counter. "She's got a point."
I write snacks in the margin because arguing with the three of them at this hour isn't worth the energy, and Maya beams like she's won something.
We sit at the table and go through the rest properly.
Yesterday the idea of lockdown zones was something Frankie and I talked out on our own, because every woman handles fear differently.
This morning the women have opinions about their own safety, which is exactly how it should work.
Emily wants the downstairs office kept clear, no windows, and the desk moved for anyone who needs to lie down.
Lena hates enclosed spaces and wants somewhere near the back door where she can see an exit.
Sarah suggests duplicate medical kits in both spaces.
Maya wants chargers, for phones and tablets, because if we're locked down for six hours nobody wants to sit around thinking about why.
Sarah's the one who brings up names. Who's outside, which brothers are on the fence, whether it's Zip or Ice Pick or somebody none of us have met yet. Emily adds photos, she’s a little embarrassed about asking for pictures of bikers until Maya threatens to make a calendar joke and I shut that down before it starts.
The list keeps growing and I like that it does. For years somebody else decided everything, what I ate, when I slept, whether I was allowed to speak. Choice feels almost embarrassingly small until you've lived without it.
The security phone buzzes.
Security Phone:
Morning security briefing at women's house 10:00. Vulture, Falcon, Sterling, and Knox. Anyone who wants to attend is welcome. Purpose: review security preferences and lockdown plan.
I read it aloud. Maya raises her hand immediately. "I'm coming. I've emergency chocolate to defend."
Emily looks less certain, staring into her mug for a few seconds before she nods. "I want to."
Sarah gives her a small smile. "I'll sit with you."
Something warm moves through my chest. They're deciding this for themselves. Nobody's deciding it for them, including me.
At quarter to ten the house is busier than usual without tipping into chaos. We move the larger table into the living room because more women want to be there than I expected. Some sit on the sofas, others closer to the walls or the doorway, and nobody comments on where anyone chooses to sit.
Three firm knocks at ten exactly.
Maya looks at me. "Trainable."
I bite back a smile. "Behave."
"I am," she says nonchalantly.
I open the door myself. Vulture stands on the porch with Falcon, Sterling, and Knox behind him.
"Good to come in?" he asks.
"Yes." I appreciate that he asked instead of just walking through.
He steps inside first and immediately moves to one side, so he isn't blocking the doorway.
The others follow. Falcon comes in last, but he's not the last one I notice, I notice him first and make myself look at everyone else.
He's got shadows under his eyes but he's clean, sober, and fully present in a way I haven't seen much of since I came back.
His gaze finds mine briefly, there’s no smile, no moment carved out just for the two of us, and that's exactly right, because this isn't about us.
Vulture looks around the room. "Morning." A few women answer, some don't, and he doesn't seem bothered by it either way. "This isn't Church."
Maya mutters, "Good start," and I turn my head. She gives me an innocent look. I'm fairly sure Vulture heard, because the corner of his mouth twitches.
"No patches outrank anyone in this room today." That gets everyone's attention. "We're here because Cara pointed out something we should've understood sooner. We built security around what works for us and assumed it'd work for you. That was our mistake."
Emily glances at me. I keep my expression neutral.
"So today you tell us what needs to change."
A woman near the window raises her hand slightly. Vulture looks toward her. "You don't need to raise your hand."
She drops it fast. "Sorry."
"No reason to be." His tone stays matter of fact. "What's your name?"
"Rachel."
"What do you need, Rachel?"
She takes a breath. "I don't like men outside my bedroom window."
Nobody laughs; nobody tells her security requires it.
Falcon answers before Vulture can. "We can move the night line another fifteen yards toward the tree cover. It’s the same coverage, but it means there are no boots directly outside the house."
Every head turns toward him. He's got his forearms resting on his thighs, no hesitation in it at all.
Rachel looks at him. "Would that make it less safe?"
"No," he answers immediately. "It’s a different position, with the same coverage."
"Then I'd like that." Rachel blushes as the attention is on her.
Falcon glances at Sterling. "Make it permanent."
Sterling writes it down, and I watch Falcon do this without any debate, without trying to convince her his original setup was better. He just adjusts to what she asked for. Frankie's words come back to me. Watch what he does when somebody tells him what hurts.
Maya raises her hand, entirely undeterred by Vulture telling her not to. “What about the photographs?”
When Vulture looks confused, Sarah leans forward to explain. “They want pictures and names of whoever is assigned to the house.”
“That makes sense,” Vulture agrees with a nod.
Lena speaks next, twisting her fingers together on the table. “I don’t want to be moved to a room without windows during a lockdown.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” Knox asks her.
“Yes,” Lena confirms.
“Then we don’t put you in one,” Knox replies.
She looks at him in surprise. “It’s that easy?”
Falcon answers before Knox can. “If the location can be secured, yes.”
Lena holds his gaze. “What if securing it is harder?”
Falcon takes a moment to consider the question before answering. “Then we explain why we believe another option is safer, and you decide what you can handle.”
I look at him.
Falcon catches my gaze, and something silent passes between us before he turns back to Lena and the meeting moves on.