Wren
She sat cross-legged on the narrow bed upstairs, wrapped in Buck’s flannel, staring at the frost creeping across the window while the clubhouse hummed faintly beneath her.
Men moved downstairs. Doors opened and closed.
Engines occasionally roared to life outside.
The Kings were making war preparations, and somehow tangled up inside all of that was the fact that Buck and Ghost had both looked at her like she already belonged to them.
What was worse was that a part of her liked it.
That realization should have sent her running.
Instead, heat curled low in her stomach every time she remembered the rough sound of Buck’s voice asking if she trusted them.
He had said them—plural, and God, she wanted to bury her head in the sand until she figured out what her next move should be.
“This is insane,” she whispered to herself.
She barely knew these men. One was a quiet mountain of control and buried intensity who looked at her like she was something precious and breakable all at once.
The other was chaos wrapped in tattoos and sharp smiles, who flirted like breathing came naturally to him, and apparently, they both wanted her—together.
“Depends,” Ghost said lightly. “You planning on sneaking out?”
She blinked at him, not sure that she had heard him correctly. “What?”
Buck crossed his arms. “You’ve been awake a while.”
“How would you know that?” she asked.
Ghost grinned. “Sweetheart, Buck’s checked this hallway four times in the last hour.” Buck shot him a glare, and Ghost looked delighted by it. Heat flooded Wren’s cheeks instantly.
“You were checking on me?” she questioned.
Buck looked almost annoyed that she asked. “Yeah.” The simple honesty of it hit harder than it should have.
Wren looked between them carefully. “Okay, what’s really going on?”
Buck’s expression darkened slightly. “We found tracks near the south fence.”
Fear slid cold down her spine immediately. “Human tracks?”
Ghost nodded. “At least two men are watching the compound.”
Her stomach tightened. “They know I’m here.”
Buck pushed away from the door slowly. “Which means we need to discuss security.”
Wren stared at him for a second before realization dawned. “Oh no.” Ghost immediately started laughing, but Buck looked unimpressed.
“It’s not funny,” she insisted.
“It’s a little funny,” Ghost said.
“No, it isn’t,” Buck growled.
Wren pointed between them accusingly. “Absolutely not.”
Ghost’s grin widened. “Sweetheart, you don’t even know what you’re refusing yet.”
“Yes, I do. You’re about to say one of you needs to sleep in here,” she said. Buck and Ghost exchanged a look.
Then Ghost said, “Actually—” Wren groaned.
Buck rubbed the back of his neck roughly. “Until we know how close the Vultures are getting, nobody sleeps alone.”
“Nobody?”
Ghost stood and stretched lazily before pointing between the three of them. “Congratulations. We’re all traumatized together now.” Wren stared at them both like they’d lost their minds.
“You cannot seriously think I’m sharing a room with you two after everything that was said downstairs,” she said.
Ghost smirked. “That’s exactly why we think it.” Buck looked seconds away from punching him again.
Wren pressed a hand to her forehead. “This is insane.”
“Probably,” Buck admitted. That surprised her enough to look at him again.
He held her gaze steadily now, all rough honesty and dangerous intensity.
“But I’m not risking you,” he continued quietly.
“Not for pride. Not for comfort. Not for anything.” Something in her chest twisted painfully because she could tell that he meant it.
Ghost softened slightly, too, as he looked at her.
“Nobody’s asking anything from you tonight, pretty thing.
” Wren’s pulse jumped harder anyway despite his reassurances.
She didn’t know how this was going to work with three people sleeping in one room and one bed.
She looked at Buck standing near the door with his broad shoulders tense like he was prepared to fight the world for her.
She looked over at Ghost lounging nearby while his pale eyes stayed fixed on her with surprising gentleness beneath all the teasing.
And suddenly the room didn’t feel frightening—it felt safe.
That realization scared her more than anything.
Buck noticed her hesitation immediately. “If you’re uncomfortable, say the word. I’ll sit outside the door.”
Ghost snorted. “And freeze to death dramatically for romance points.” Buck ignored him.
Wren looked between them slowly. “You’d really do that?”
“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. God help her. Something melted a little inside her then.
Ghost watched the expression cross her face and smiled knowingly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re in trouble now.”
Wren glared weakly at him. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Ghost teased lightly, “you haven’t kicked either of us out.
” That was the problem, wasn’t it? She absolutely should have kicked them both out.
Instead, she found herself shifting over slightly on the bed to make room.
Buck went perfectly still, and Ghost’s grin disappeared entirely for the first time all night.
The emotional weight of the gesture hit the room harder than anything sexual could have.
Wren looked down nervously at her hands. “Just for tonight,” she whispered.
Buck’s voice came rougher than before. “Yeah, just for tonight,” he breathed. Ghost moved first, sitting carefully on one side of the bed while Buck remained near the door like he still didn’t fully trust himself.
Wren looked up at him quietly. “Buck,” she whispered.
His eyes locked onto hers instantly. “You can come closer.” The vulnerability in the words nearly wrecked him.
She saw it in his eyes. Slowly, cautiously, Buck crossed the room and sat on the other side of her, and for the first time in years, Wren didn’t feel alone.
Outside, the storm raged harder against the north, but inside that tiny room above the Kings of Anarchy clubhouse, three damaged people sat shoulder to shoulder while something dangerous and beautiful began to grow between them.
Wren had never shared a bed with two men before.
Hell, she’d barely shared emotional vulnerability with one.
And yet somehow, somewhere between gunfire, dead wolves, and threats painted on abandoned trucks, she’d ended up in a tiny room above an outlaw clubhouse with Buck on one side of her and Ghost on the other.
Neither touched her, and that almost made it worse, because the tension in the room felt alive.
Buck sat against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders tense beneath a black thermal Henley he’d changed into sometime after coming upstairs.
His hair was still damp from melted snow, and every few seconds, his eyes drifted toward the door like he expected danger to kick it open.
Ghost lounged beside her like this was the most natural thing in the world, one tattooed arm stretched behind her on the mattress while his boot tapped lazily against the floor; neither man looked relaxed.
Both of them kept looking at her when they thought she wasn’t paying attention.
Wren stared determinedly at the blanket pooled in her lap, trying to tell herself that this was fine—totally fine.
Ghost broke first. “You’re overthinking so loud I can hear it.”
Wren looked up sharply. “I am not.”
Ghost grinned. “Sweetheart, you’re sitting here like somebody threatened you with a tax audit.” Buck’s mouth twitched faintly. The sight almost distracted her from her humiliation—almost.
“I just—” Wren exhaled roughly. “This is weird.”
“That’s fair,” Buck admitted quietly.
Ghost looked personally offended. “I think this is cozy.”
“You think arson sounds cozy,” Buck muttered.
“Depends on the fire,” Ghost joked. Wren snorted before she could stop herself, and both men looked at her instantly. The attention hit like a physical touch. Buck’s gaze softened slightly at the sound of her laugh while Ghost outright smiled like he’d won something. God help her.
“You two are impossible,” she mumbled.
“Yeah,” Ghost agreed easily. “But we’re charming enough to balance it out.”
Buck shook his head slowly before looking toward Wren again. “You cold?”
The question caught her off guard. “A little,” she admitted.
Without hesitation, Buck reached for the heavy blanket folded at the foot of the bed and draped it over her legs carefully.
The gentleness of it wrecked her a little, because a man built like Buck shouldn’t know how to be gentle, and yet every time he touched her, he acted like she was something precious.
Wren swallowed hard. “Thank you.” Buck only nodded.
Ghost watched the exchange quietly before speaking again. “You know he’s gone full caveman over you, right?”
Buck groaned. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?” Ghost smirked. “She should know.”
Wren glanced between them curiously despite herself. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means,” Ghost said, pointing toward Buck, “our fearless VP here checked the locks on this room three separate times before sitting down.”
Buck looked entirely unapologetic. “We’re under threat.”
Ghost laughed. “He also threatened to break Mason’s arm earlier because the kid smiled at you too long.”
Wren blinked. “You did what?”
Buck rubbed a hand down his face roughly. “I did not threaten him.”
“You absolutely did,” Ghost insisted.
“I implied consequences he’d face if he did it again,” Buck said.
Ghost looked delighted. “See—caveman.” Wren tried not to smile but failed completely.
Buck watched her carefully, his expression softening at the edges again. “You think this is funny.”
“A little,” she admitted.
His eyes darkened slightly. “Dangerous answer.” Heat bloomed low in her stomach instantly.
Ghost made a dramatic gagging noise. “Oh my God, just kiss already.” Wren nearly choked, and Buck looked murderous. Ghost looked pleased with himself.
“Relax,” Ghost said lazily. “Sexual tension’s making the room humid.
” Wren buried her face briefly in the blanket while Buck muttered something deeply threatening under his breath.
The mattress shifted slightly, and when she looked up again, Buck had moved closer.
Not much, but enough that warmth radiated from his body beside her now. Her pulse skipped immediately.
“You okay?” he asked quietly. The concern in his voice felt too intimate somehow.
“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. Ghost’s teasing faded slightly at that.
Wren stared down at her hands. “My life was normal three days ago.” She laughed weakly. “Now I’m apparently caught in a trafficking investigation while two outlaw bikers talk about protecting me like I belong to them.”
Silence settled over the room before Buck said quietly, “You don’t belong to anybody you don’t choose.” The words hit her hard because underneath all the possessiveness, underneath the tension and heat and dangerous attraction, there was respect.
Ghost nodded once beside her. “Nobody’s taking your choices away, pretty thing.
” Emotion tightened unexpectedly in her chest. These men shouldn’t have felt safe, but they did.
Buck’s hand moved before she expected it to, rough fingers brushing lightly against hers on top of the blanket.
He was silently asking her a question—not making a demand.
Wren looked at their hands touching, and then, slowly, she turned her palm over beneath his.
Buck inhaled sharply, and Ghost went completely still beside her.
The intimacy of something so small nearly overwhelmed her.
Buck’s fingers curled carefully around hers like he couldn’t quite believe she was letting him touch her, and Wren’s heart pounded harder.
Ghost watched both of them quietly before a soft smile crossed his face, and suddenly, Wren understood something important.
This wasn’t just physical for either of them.
Whatever existed between Buck and Ghost ran deep.
Loyalty and tension and buried feelings were woven so tightly together that she wasn’t sure where friendship ended and love began.
And somehow, they were making room for her inside it.
The realization scared her, but it also made something warm bloom inside her chest.
A loud bang echoed downstairs suddenly, and all three of them reacted instantly.
Buck was off the bed in a second, gun already in his hand, while Ghost moved toward the door with terrifying speed.
The atmosphere in the room shifted from soft intimacy to pure danger immediately.
Wren’s breath caught when she heard voices shouting downstairs, followed by rapid footsteps pounding up the hallway.
Buck positioned himself in front of her automatically—protective and possessive.
The bedroom door flew open hard enough to slam against the wall, and Mason stood there breathing heavily, panic written all over his face.
“Buck,” he said roughly. “We got a problem.”
Buck’s voice went deadly calm. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Mason swallowed hard. “One of the outer watch posts just went dark.”