Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Hades
The clubhouse felt like a cage.
A whiskey sat untouched in my hand as I leaned against the bar, watching brothers move through their routines like nothing was wrong. Pool balls cracked. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loud at a joke I didn’t hear.
Everything looked normal.
Everything felt wrong.
Cerberus had been restless the last time I was at Lettie’s. Pacing. Watching the road. Ears forward like he was tracking something I couldn’t see. That dog didn’t get worked up over nothing. He was trained. Disciplined. If he was on edge, there was a reason.
Lettie had been distracted too. She kept listening toward her mother’s room when she thought I wasn’t watching. Her body language was off, tighter, more alert. Like she was waiting for something to happen.
And the mother.
Fuck, the mother.
That woman had more energy in the past week than she’d had in years, according to Lettie. Asking questions. Getting dressed. Leaving her room. Acting interested in things she’d never given a shit about before.
That wasn’t recovery.
That was anticipation.
I didn’t have evidence. Didn’t have proof. Just instinct screaming at me that something was coming, and I didn’t know what the fuck it was.
“You good, brother?” Atlas appeared beside me, his own beer in hand.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his face. But he didn’t push. Just nodded and moved on to talk to Kraken near the pool table.
I pulled out my phone and texted Pegasus.
Ride past Lettie’s place. Wide loop. Report anything unusual.
Three dots appeared immediately.
On it.
I’d had prospects running wider patrols near her property for the past two days. Nothing obvious. Nothing that would spook her. Just eyes on the road, watching for unfamiliar vehicles. Strangers. Anything that didn’t fit the pattern of her quiet farmhouse life.
Coeus had been running plates on every car that didn’t belong in town. Checking names. Cross-referencing with known threats. So far, nothing had pinged.
But Harvest Week was three days away.
And Lettie’s mother only came alive during Harvest Week.
That couldn’t be coincidence.
My phone buzzed.
All clear. No movement. Lights on in kitchen.
I typed back. Stay on rotation. Check again in two hours.
Copy.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and drained the whiskey. It burned going down but didn’t touch the tension coiling in my gut.
Zeus appeared from the hallway leading to his office. He looked like shit. He still hadn’t met his son, and it was eating him alive. He caught my eye and jerked his chin toward the door.
I followed him outside.
The night air was cool. Quiet. The kind of quiet that felt too heavy.
“You’ve got prospects running extra patrols,” Zeus said. Not a question.
“Yeah.”
“Around Lettie’s place.”
“Yeah.”
He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “You see a threat?”
“I feel one.”
Zeus nodded slowly. He understood that language. Instinct over evidence. Gut over logic.
“What do you need?”
“Time,” I said. “And eyes. Coeus is already running plates. I’ve got Pegasus and two other prospects doing wide loops near her property. Nothing close enough to spook her. Just watching.”
“She know?”
I hesitated.
Zeus smiled. It wasn’t kind. “She caught you.”
“Not yet.”
“She will.” He flicked ash onto the gravel. “Lettie’s not stupid. She’s been watching her own back for years. You think she won’t notice extra bikes on her road?”
He was right.
Fuck, he was right.
“When she does,” Zeus continued, “don’t lie to her. That woman will gut you for lying faster than she’ll forgive you for overstepping.”
I stared at him. “You giving me relationship advice?”
“I’m giving you survival advice.” He took another drag. “Reggie’s pissed at me because I tried to control the situation instead of talking to her like a goddamn adult. Don’t make my mistakes, brother.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and walked back inside.
I stood there for another minute, staring at the road. Thinking about Lettie. About the way she’d looked at me when I told her I knew what she was. The way she’d offered me that tea. The way she’d waited to see if I’d drink it.
She’d been testing me.
And I’d passed.
But this? This was different.
This was me making decisions for her. Putting security around her without asking. Treating her like she needed protection instead of partnership.
I pulled out my phone and texted Pegasus again.
Pull back. One pass every four hours. Stay off her road unless you see something concrete.
Copy.
I’d tell her.
Tonight.
Before she figured it out on her own and decided I was just another man trying to cage her.
I pulled into Lettie’s driveway just after midnight.
The house was dark except for the porch light she always left on. Cerberus barked once from inside—a warning. Then silence.
The back door opened before I reached it.
Lettie stood there in an oversized shirt and bare legs, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes sharp despite the late hour.
“You’ve had prospects watching my house.”
Fuck.
Not a question. A statement.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Cerberus sniffed my boots but didn’t growl. He knew me now. Accepted me.
Lettie didn’t move. She just stood there with her arms crossed, waiting.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because something feels wrong.”
Her jaw tightened. “Wrong how?”
“Cerberus has been restless. You’ve been distracted. Your mother’s acting different.” I moved closer, slowly, like approaching something wild. “I don’t have proof. Just instinct. And my instinct says something’s coming.”
“So you put security on me without asking.”
“Yeah.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yeah.”
She turned and walked into the kitchen. I followed, watching her fill the kettle and set it on the stove. Her movements were controlled, precise. The kind of control that came right before an explosion.
“Lettie—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Don’t explain it away. Don’t tell me it’s for my own good. Don’t make excuses.”
“I’m not.”
She turned to face me. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m telling you the truth.” I leaned against the counter. “I put prospects on patrol near your property because I don’t know what the threat is, but I know it’s real. I can’t lose you.”
“So you decided to control the situation.”
“I decided to protect you.”
“Without asking me.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes flashed. “I won’t live in another cage, Brock. I won’t trade my mother’s control for yours. I won’t be managed or handled or protected like I’m some fragile thing who can’t take care of herself.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She stepped closer. “Because it feels like you’re making decisions for me. Like you think I need you to keep me safe. Like I’m not capable of handling my own shit.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
I pushed off the counter and closed the distance between us.
“It’s me being terrified that something’s going to happen and I won’t be there.
It’s me knowing you’re capable and dangerous and smart as hell but also knowing that doesn’t make you invincible.
It’s me trying to stand between you and whatever’s coming because that’s what I do. That’s who I am.”
She stared at me. Silent.
“I’m not trying to cage you,” I continued. “I’m not trying to own your fear or control your life. I’m trying to be your partner. And yeah, I fucked up by not telling you first. I should have come to you. Should have talked to you before I put security in place.”
The kettle started to whistle.
Lettie turned and pulled it off the heat. She poured water into two mugs and added tea bags. Her hands were steady.
“You’re right,” she said finally. “You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“But you’re also right that something feels wrong.” She handed me a mug. “It always does this time of year. And I still don’t understand why.”
I took the tea and held it without drinking. “What do you think it means?”
“I think she’s waiting for something.” Lettie sat at the table. “I think she knows something I don’t. And whatever it is, I think it’s coming soon.”
I sat across from her. “Then we handle it together.”
“Together means you tell me when you’re sending men to watch my house.”
“Agreed.”
“Together means you don’t make decisions for me.”
“Agreed.”
“Together means you trust me to know when I need help.”
“I do trust you.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “But I’m also going to do everything in my power to keep you safe. That’s not negotiable. The difference is, I’ll be honest about it. I’ll tell you what I’m doing and why. I won’t lie to you.”
She squeezed my hand. “Will you back off if I ask you to?”
The question hung there. I could have lied. Could have told her what she wanted to hear. But we’d already established the rules. No secrets. No bullshit.
“No,” I said quietly. “I won’t.”
Her jaw tightened. She tried to pull her hand back, but I held firm.
“Listen to me,” I said. “I can’t turn off what I am.
I can’t promise to stop protecting you just because you ask me to.
That’s not how this works. That’s not who I am.
But I will tell you every goddamn thing I’m doing.
I will explain my reasoning. And if you tell me to back off, I’ll hear you.
I’ll consider it. But I won’t promise compliance because that would be a lie, and we don’t do that. ”
She stared at me. Silent. Processing.
“This is who you’re getting, baby,” I said.
“A man who will move heaven and earth to keep you safe. A man who will lie awake at night thinking about threats you don’t even know exist. A man who trusts his gut even when it means overstepping.
But also, a man who won’t hide behind excuses or justifications.
Who will fight with you about it if that’s what you need. ”
“That’s not partnership,” she said quietly. “That’s control with a better PR campaign.”
“Maybe.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “But it’s the only kind of partnership I know how to give. And I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth. “You promise we’ll fight?”
“Baby, I guarantee it.”
She laughed. Soft and real. The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Okay,” she said. “We do this together. You tell me what you’re seeing. I tell you what I’m seeing. We figure it out.”
“Deal.”
We drank our tea in silence. Comfortable. Connected.
When the mugs were empty, Lettie stood and held out her hand. “Stay.”
“I was planning on it.”
We lay in her bed with the lights off and the window cracked. Cool air drifted in. Cerberus had settled near the door, his breathing steady and rhythmic.
Lettie’s head rested on my chest, and my arm was wrapped around her, holding her close.
Not sexual.
Just intimate.
Just us.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“Not of what’s coming—I can handle that.” Her fingers traced patterns on my ribs. “I’m scared of losing this. Losing you.”
I tightened my hold. “You’re not losing me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” I kissed the top of her head. “Whatever’s coming, we face it together. And when it’s over, I’m still going to be right here. In your bed. Holding you. Pissing you off. Making you come. All of it.”
She laughed softly. “You’re very confident.”
“I’m very sure.”
She tilted her head up. I could barely see her face in the darkness, but I felt her eyes on me.
“I love you,” she said.
The words hit me like a fist to the chest.
I’d known it. Felt it. But every time I heard her say it out loud was different.
“I love you too, baby.”
She kissed me soft and slow, then settled back against my chest.
I held her until her breathing evened out. Until she fell asleep.
But I stayed awake.
Listening.
Watching the shadows.
Cerberus lifted his head once, ears forward, staring at the hallway.
I tensed.
Waited.
Nothing.
He settled back down.
But I’d seen it. The alertness. The focus.
Something had moved out there.
I carefully extracted myself from Lettie and slipped out of bed. Moved to the doorway. Peered down the dark stairway.
Her mother’s door was cracked open.
It shouldn’t have been.
Lettie always closed it after giving her the tea. Always made sure it was shut tight.
I stood there, staring at that thin line of darkness.
Waiting for movement.
Waiting for sound.
Nothing.
Just silence.
Just the crack of light that shouldn’t have existed.
I moved back to the bed and slid in beside Lettie. Pulled her close.
She murmured something in her sleep and pressed against me.
I held her tighter.
Because something was wrong.
Something was coming.
And the waiting was worse than any threat I could name.