5. King
KING
She's still shaking in my arms when I pull back from the kiss.
I want to hold her. I want to carry her to my bed and show her exactly what her loyalty means to me. I want to worship every inch of her body until the fear fades and the tremor in her voice is for a different reason entirely.
But I can't. Not yet.
Right now, I have to be the president.
"Stay here," I tell her, my hands still cupping her face. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"King—"
"I mean it. Stay here. I need to know you're safe while I handle this."
She nods, her eyes wide and wet. "What are you going to do?"
"Handle it." I press a hard kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back. I promise."
I leave her in my office and close the door behind me, and the second it clicks shut, the man disappears and the president takes over.
Rogue and Lock are in the main room, nursing beers at the bar. They both look up when I walk in, and something in my face makes Rogue set his bottle down immediately.
"Church," I say. "Now. Just us three."
They don't ask questions. They never do when I use that tone.
We move to the chapel — the room at the back of the clubhouse where we hold our meetings, make our decisions, plan our wars. I close the door and turn to face my VP and my Sergeant-at-Arms.
"We've got a problem," I say. "The Road Kings are planning to hit our deal tonight. The warehouse on Route 10."
Lock's expression doesn't change, but I see his shoulders tighten. Rogue's jaw goes hard.
"How do you know?" Rogue asks.
"I have a source."
"A source." His eyes narrow. "Would this source happen to be the woman who just walked through the clubhouse? Rocky's daughter?"
"Yes."
The silence that follows is heavy. I can see Rogue working through it — the implications, the risks, the thousand ways this could be a trap.
"And you trust her?" he asks finally.
"With my life."
"King—"
"She just betrayed her own father to warn us.
She walked into this clubhouse in broad daylight, knowing what it would cost her.
She's got nowhere to go now. No one to protect her but us.
" I hold his gaze. "Yeah. I trust her. And even if I didn't — if she's right and we walk in blind tonight, we're not walking out. "
Rogue stares at me for a long moment. Then he nods slowly. "Okay. What's the play?"
"They're expecting us to walk in blind. Six of us. They're bringing twelve." I lean against the table, my mind already working through the angles. "We're not going to give them what they're expecting."
Lock speaks for the first time. "We hit them first?"
"No." I shake my head. "No violence. Not tonight. We show up, we let them see that we knew they were coming, and we let them leave with their tails between their legs. No blood, no bullets. Just humiliation."
"And what message does that send?" Rogue asks.
"That someone in their club talked. That they can't trust their own people." I smile, and it's not a nice smile. "It'll tear them apart from the inside. Way more damage than a few bullets ever could."
Lock nods slowly. "I like it."
"I thought you might." I push off the table. "We leave in an hour. The three of us go in — I want them to see we knew, not that we're starting a war. But I want the rest of the brothers close by. Every patched member we've got, parked out of sight, ready to move if things go sideways."
Rogue stands, already shifting into mission mode. "What about the girl?"
"She stays here. In my room. No one goes near her, no one talks to her, no one even looks at her wrong. Understood?"
"Understood." He hesitates. "And after tonight?"
"After tonight, she's under our protection. Officially. Anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me."
Rogue doesn't argue. He just nods and heads for the door.
Lock lingers for a moment, those quiet eyes studying me. "You sure about this, Prez?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He holds my gaze for a beat, then gives me one of his rare almost-smiles. "Good enough for me."
The warehouse on Route 10 is dark when we pull up, our bikes rumbling to a stop in the gravel lot. It's an old industrial building, abandoned for years, perfect for the kind of deals that don't show up on any paperwork.
We're early. That's the point.
I swing off my bike and nod to Rogue and Lock. We head inside, our footsteps echoing in the empty space. It's cold in here, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, but I don't feel it. I'm too focused on what's coming.
We take our positions and we wait.
Twenty minutes later, I hear them. The rumble of engines in the distance, getting closer. Headlights sweep across the windows as bikes pull into the lot. I count the engines — twelve, just like Demi said.
The door creaks open. Chains steps inside first, Rocky right behind him, the rest of their guys filing in after. They're armed — I can see the bulges under their cuts — and they're expecting to find an empty warehouse.
Instead, they find us.
Three men. Standing in the middle of the room. Waiting.
Chains stops dead. The confusion on his face is almost worth everything.
His eyes narrow. Behind him, Rocky shifts, his hand drifting toward his piece.
"I wouldn't," Lock says quietly. It's not a threat. It's just a statement of fact. Rocky's hand stops moving.
"Here's the thing, Chains." I keep my voice conversational, almost friendly. "I know why you're here. I know how many men you brought. I know exactly what you were planning to do tonight."
The color drains from his face.
"Someone talked," I continue. "Someone in your club told us everything. The warehouse, the timing, the ambush." I smile. "Must be hard, knowing you can't trust your own people."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?" I spread my hands. "Look around.
Three of us walked in here. Just three. You think I'd do that if I didn't know exactly what was coming?
" I let that sink in. "And if you're thinking about trying something anyway — my entire club is parked half a block away, waiting for my signal.
So think carefully about your next move. "
The Road Kings are exchanging glances now, suspicion rippling through their ranks. I can see it in their faces — the doubt, the paranoia. They're already wondering who the rat is. Already looking at each other differently.
Mission accomplished.
"Go home, Chains," I say. "Take your men, get on your bikes, and go home. Tonight's not going to go the way you planned."
"This isn't over," he growls.
"No. It's not." I hold his gaze. "But tonight, it is. Unless you want to start something right here, right now, knowing that my entire club is on alert and waiting for my call."
The threat hangs in the air between us. For a long moment, nobody moves.
Then Chains takes a step back.
"Let's go," he mutters to his men.
They file past us, mounting their bikes, their faces twisted with fury and humiliation. Rocky is the last to go, and he stops right in front of me, close enough that I can see the hatred burning in his eyes.
"I don't know who talked," he says quietly. "But when I find out, they're dead."
I don't react. Don't flinch. "Good luck with that."
He holds my stare for a beat longer, then turns and walks to his bike. A minute later, the Road Kings are gone, their taillights disappearing down the road.
Rogue lets out a breath. "Well. That was fun."
"It's not over," I say. "They'll regroup. Come back harder."
"I know. But tonight?" He grins. "Tonight was a win."
Yeah. It was.
But there's only one person on my mind.
I find her exactly where I left her — curled up in the chair in the corner of my office, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes red from crying. She jumps when I walk in, then scrambles to her feet when she sees it's me.
"King—"
I'm across the room before I can think, pulling her into my arms.
For a moment, I just hold her. Feel her heart beating against my chest, her breath warm against my neck, her body trembling with relief and fear and exhaustion. She's here. She's safe. And she's mine.
"It's done," I say against her hair. "They showed up. They saw we knew. They left."
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes searching my face. "No one got hurt?"
"No one got hurt."
The sob that escapes her is pure relief. She buries her face in my chest, her fingers clutching the front of my cut, and I hold her tighter.
"I was so scared," she whispers. "I didn't know if I'd made everything worse. If they would figure out it was me, if they'd hurt you anyway—"
"Hey." I tilt her face up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "You saved us tonight. You understand that? You gave up everything to warn me, and because of you, my brothers are safe. I'm safe."
Her lower lip trembles. "My father's going to figure it out. Eventually, he'll know it was me."
"I know."
"I can never go back. I can never—" Her voice breaks. "I don't have anywhere to go."
"Yes, you do." I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away her tears. "You have here. You have me. You're not alone, Demi. Not anymore."
She stares at me, and I watch the walls come down. All the fear, all the doubt, all the years of keeping everyone at arm's length — I see it crumble.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispers.
The words hit me like a freight train. But instead of panic, all I feel is certainty.
"Good," I say. "Because I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you across that rally."
And then I kiss her.
This kiss is different from all the others. It's not desperate or frantic or driven by the thrill of the forbidden. It's slower. Deeper. The kind of kiss that says I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you.
She melts into me, her arms wrapping around my neck, her body pressing against mine. I can feel her heart racing, feel the heat of her through her clothes, and I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
I pull back just enough to look at her. "I need you."
"Then take me."
"Not here." I take her hand. "Come on."