2. Stellan #2
She deserves better than me.
I know this. I've known it for months, since the first time I saw her at Barrett and Kira's place, soft and smiling and completely out of her depth in this world of violence and leather.
I've watched her navigate the club's chaos with grace, bringing warmth to spaces that have never known softness, treating every brother like a person instead of a monster.
I've watched her, and I've wanted, and I've stayed away because that's what you do when you're the kind of danger that destroys the things it loves.
Mira taught me that. My baby sister, who saw what I really am and couldn't look at me the same way afterward.
Who flinched when I reached for her, who died before I could explain, who left me with nothing but the knowledge that love and destruction live side by side inside me, inseparable, inevitable.
I won't do that to Esmerelda. I won't let her see the beast. I won't let her reach for me and find only monster.
Thirty-one steps to the back hallway, where I could disappear for a while, get my head straight, stop torturing myself with her proximity.
The count is automatic, a rhythm I've used for fifteen years to keep myself tethered to rationality.
Thirty-one steps, and I could put walls between us, and I could breathe again.
I don't move.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor."
Kieran's voice comes from behind me, and I turn to find my President watching me with that knowing expression that always makes me feel transparent.
He's the only one who's seen me at my worst, the only one who's talked me back from the edge when the red took over.
If anyone in this club understands what I'm fighting right now, it's him.
"I'm fine," I say again, the words hollow even to my own ears.
"You're counting under your breath." The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile. "This is interior rotation, brother. Not pacing rotation."
"I'm aware of my assignment."
"Are you?" He steps closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like a man trying very hard not to look at something. And every time you fail, you start counting again."
I have no response to that. He's not wrong.
Kieran studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes seeing too much.
He's carrying the weight of this war on his shoulders, the lives of every brother and every woman in this compound resting on his decisions.
He shouldn't have time to worry about my hopeless obsession with a woman I'll never touch.
But that's Kieran. He sees everything, remembers everything, cares about his brothers even when he can't afford to.
"She's Kira's friend," he says finally. "Good woman. Kind."
"I know who she is."
"Then stop pretending you don't."
The words land like a blow, cracking through my defenses. I meet his gaze, and for a moment, we just look at each other, two men carrying monsters inside them, trying to stay human despite everything.
"It doesn't matter who she is," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. "What matters is what I am. She deserves better."
"Everyone deserves better than what we are." Kieran's expression shifts, something old and painful flickering behind his eyes. "That doesn't mean we don't deserve anything at all."
"You don't understand?—"
"I understand exactly." His voice is soft now, almost gentle, the voice he uses when he's talking me down from the edge.
"I understand watching someone from a distance because you're convinced you'll destroy them if you get close.
I understand counting your heartbeats and your steps and your breaths because it's the only thing keeping you from reaching.
I understand, Stellan. Better than you know. "
His gaze drifts across the room, just for a moment, toward something I can't see, and I wonder what ghost he's looking at.
What loss carved those lines around his eyes.
In fifteen years, Kieran has never talked about anyone he loved before the club.
I've always assumed there was no one, that he was built for leadership and sacrifice in a way that left no room for softer things.
Now I'm not so sure.
"The war is coming," Kieran continues, pulling his attention back to me. "Whatever happens, I need you focused. I need the beast on a leash until I need it unleashed." He pauses. "But after. When this is over. Maybe you should consider that staying away isn't the same as protecting her."
"It's the only protection I can offer."
"Is it?" He holds my gaze. "Or is it the only protection you can offer yourself?"
He walks away before I can answer, headed back toward the command center where Barrett is waiting with tactical updates and casualty projections. I watch him go, this man who gave me a home when I had nothing, who saw the monster inside me and called it brother anyway, and I wonder if he's right.
Maybe staying away isn't protection. Maybe it's cowardice. Maybe I've spent fifteen years hiding from the possibility of connection because losing Mira broke something inside me that I never learned to fix.
Across the room, Esmerelda laughs again, and the hum in my mind goes quiet, and the beast inside me settles into something that feels almost like peace.
I start counting again. Because counting is safe. Counting is control. And control is the only thing standing between me and the terrifying possibility that Kieran might be right.
Forty-three steps around the perimeter. Six women under my protection. One that makes the monster gentle.
One that I'm going to destroy us both by wanting.