Chapter 18 #2
The club feels smaller now, crowded with people seeking safety in numbers. But the tension is thick enough to cut. Everyone knows we’re under siege, even if they don’t understand the full scope of the threats we face.
I pause near the bar, letting my anger cool before I approach Grace. She doesn’t need to absorb my frustration with Victor. She has enough of her own worries to carry.
From here, I can see her clearly. She’s claimed a corner booth, a small tray of assorted charcuterie sits in the center of the table, likely enough to feed three, and her laptop is open in front of her, but her attention keeps drifting to the room around her.
Her paper assignment, the one Victor keeps pushing her to finish, sits abandoned on the screen.
How can anyone expect her to focus on schoolwork when bombs are being planted, and people are overdosing?
Grace looks small in the oversized booth, shoulders hunched forward in a protective posture I don’t love.
She’s trying to make herself invisible, hoping to avoid drawing more danger to the people she cares about.
Guilt is written across her features, the way she takes responsibility for things beyond her control.
The sight makes my chest ache. This gentle, caring woman doesn’t deserve to be at the center of such violence.
She deserves safety, peace, the chance to build the life she’s working toward.
Instead, she’s trapped in a web of threats and secrets, protected by men who think they know better than she does about her own life.
I watch as she glances toward the corridor where Victor disappeared earlier, hope and worry warring in her expression. She trusts him completely, believes he’ll keep her safe and tell her what she needs to know. The faith in her eyes makes Victor’s deception even more disturbing.
Grace picks up her phone, checks for messages, then sets it down again. The motion is repeated several times, restless energy seeking an outlet. She’s desperate for information, for some sense of control over the chaos surrounding her.
Across the room, Tyson and Sabrina sit close together, heads bent in quiet conversation. Trinity wheels herself between different groups, offering comfort and mindless chitchat. Hunter shadows her movements, protective but not overbearing. The contrast with Victor’s approach is stark.
I make my decision and cross to Grace’s booth. She looks up as I approach, face brightening with relief.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, though I’m already sliding into the booth beside her.
“Please,” Grace says, closing her laptop and pushing it aside. “I can’t concentrate anyway.” She nods to the platter in front of her. “Tyson made us charcuterie. Where did Victor go?”
Up close, I can see the exhaustion more clearly. Dark circles under her eyes, tension lines around her mouth. She’s been pushing herself too hard, trying to be strong for everyone else.
“When did you last sleep?” I ask, settling against the leather back of the booth, purposely ignoring her question about Victor.
Grace considers this. “Really sleep? Two nights ago, I think. Before everything with Trinity and the hospital.”
“And eat?”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Zara made me eat something earlier. But I’m not really hungry.”
“Stress will do that.” I reach over and brush a strand of hair from her face. “But you need to take care of yourself, Grace. We all need you healthy. At least try to eat some of that,” I say, tilting my head toward the assortment of meats and cheeses.
She leans into the gentle touch, eyes drifting closed for a moment. When she opens them again, they’re bright with unshed tears.
“I keep thinking about Harper,” she says quietly. “About how she looked when Victor carried her out. What if she dies? What if this is all connected to me somehow?”
The guilt in her voice makes my heart clench. This is exactly what Victor’s secrecy feeds into, Grace’s tendency to blame herself for things beyond her control.
“Harper made her own choices,” I say firmly. “Whatever happened to her, it’s not your fault.”
“But what if someone hurt her to get to me? To hurt Victor or the club?” Grace’s voice cracks slightly. “I can’t stand the idea of people getting hurt because of me.”
I slide closer, closing the distance between us in the booth until our shoulders touch. Grace immediately leans into the contact, seeking comfort in physical closeness. Her head finds my shoulder, and some of the tension leaves her body.
“Listen to me,” I say, my voice low and steady. “You are not responsible for other people’s evil choices. Not Harper’s, not my husband’s, not whoever is threatening you now.”
Grace nods against my shoulder, but she’s still holding herself rigid, still fighting the urge to take responsibility for everything.
“I hate being helpless,” she whispers. “Everyone else is doing something, investigating, planning or protecting. I’m just sitting here, useless.”
“You’re not useless.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “You’re holding us together, Grace. Just by being yourself, by caring about everyone the way you do.”
She lifts her head to stare at me, blue eyes searching my face. “How do you do it? Stay so strong when everything is falling apart?”
The question catches me off guard. Strong is not something I’ve been lately. Angry, yes. Determined, certainly. But strong is too generous a description for someone who spent years trapped in an abusive marriage, too afraid to leave.
“I don’t feel strong,” I admit. “I’m scared most of the time. But I’ve learned that sometimes scared and strong look the same from the outside.”
Grace considers this, nodding slowly. “Victor is being very guarded. I get the sense that he’s keeping something from me, and he probably thinks he’s doing me a favor.”
My jaw tightens at the mention of Victor’s protective lies.
“You have a right to know what’s happening in your own life.
But Victor loves you, and his protective nature can give him tunnel vision.
” I’m torn between defending him and telling her what little information I have.
But the truth is I don’t have much. Just that he’s keeping something from her.
“Do you think he’s hiding something?”
I hesitate, caught between my anger at Victor and my desire not to add to Grace’s worries. But she deserves honesty, even if Victor won’t give it to her.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I think he knows more than he’s telling you.”
Grace is quiet for a long moment, processing this confirmation of her suspicions. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier.
“Will you tell me if you find out what it is?”
“Yes.” The promise comes without hesitation. “I won’t lie to you, Grace. About anything. But Victor needs to be the one to tell you whatever he’s holding back. I’ll give him that chance before I bring anything to you.”
She settles back against my shoulder, and I kiss the top of her head again. Around us, the club continues its subdued activity, but our little corner is separate from the chaos.
I let my gaze wander across the room until it finds Victor. He’s standing near the bar, phone pressed to his ear, probably getting updates from the hospital or coordinating security measures. His profile is sharp in the dim lighting, jaw set with determination.
He must sense my attention because he turns, his eyes finding mine across the distance. Even from here, I can see the conflict in his expression. He knows I’m right about telling Grace the truth, but his protective instincts won’t let him admit it.
We stare at each other in silent confrontation. I make no effort to hide my disapproval, letting him see exactly what I think of his methods. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away.
Grace shifts against my shoulder, drawing my attention back to her. Her breathing has evened out, and I realize she’s finally allowing herself to rest, trusting me to watch over her while she lets her guard down.
I kiss her hair again, a gentle press of my lips, but it’s full of care and protection. When I look back toward the bar, Victor is still watching us. His expression has softened slightly, seeing Grace find comfort in my arms.
But the tension between us remains. He can see that I’m offering Grace the emotional support he’s too conflicted to provide. The honesty he’s too controlling to give.
The silent standoff continues, two people who love the same woman, disagreeing fundamentally about how to protect her.