Chapter 23
Sadie
I feel as though I’m slowly suffocating.
That thought makes me feel guilty almost immediately, because I know every single person in this clubhouse is trying to help me.
Nobody is watching me because they want to control me.
Nobody is hovering because they enjoy making my life difficult.
The Wild Riders are protecting Owen and me because someone left threatening notes, someone has been watching my house, and there is a very real possibility that whoever is doing it hasn’t finished yet.
I know all of that. The problem is that knowing something and feeling it are not always the same thing.
For weeks now, somebody has always been nearby.
Somebody has always known where I am, what I’m doing, and who I’m with.
Every trip to the grocery store comes with an escort.
Every outing involves one of the guys shadowing me from a distance.
Even inside the clubhouse, there is rarely a moment when I am completely alone with my thoughts.
Usually, that would be comforting. Lately, it just feels overwhelming.
It also doesn’t help that I’m developing complicated feelings for all of the men, and I don’t know if it’s real or if it comes as a result of forced proximity.
Maybe it’s like Stockholm syndrome? Except they aren’t my captors and I’m here willingly.
I stand at the window of the room Owen and I have been using, watching the late afternoon sunlight spill across the yard below.
A few of the kids are still outside, racing around the playground while Moose chases them enthusiastically.
The clubhouse feels alive, busy, vibrant, and full, as always, but right now, all I can think about is how badly I want a few hours away from it. A few hours away from all of them.
Normality.
That’s what I miss.
The request should be simple. Instead, it immediately becomes complicated, because the truth is that the men themselves are a large part of the reason I need space in the first place.
I let out a slow breath and press my forehead against the cool glass. How exactly am I supposed to process any of this?
A few months ago, my biggest concern was figuring out whether Owen had remembered his lunchbox. Now I somehow have feelings for four different men, all of whom seem determined to turn my life upside down in completely different ways.
Trigger is intense, protective, and increasingly impossible to ignore.
Dash makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and somehow always knows exactly when I need cheering up.
Shadow understands parts of me that I rarely show anyone.
And then there is Chief. I close my eyes.
Chief is somehow the most confusing of all.
One day, he looks at me as though I’m the only woman in the room, and the next, he becomes distant and professional, talking about nothing except security plans, cameras, and protection schedules.
Sometimes I catch him watching me from across the clubhouse, and his expression makes my pulse stumble.
Then, before I can make sense of it, he retreats behind that calm, controlled mask again.
I wonder if he thinks about that night when he saw me with Trigger and Dash, if he wonders what it would have been like to join in. I know I do—far more than I should.
It would almost be easier if he disliked me. At least then I would know where I stood.
A knock sounds against the partially open door. I turn to find Shadow leaning casually against the frame. Even after everything that has happened between us, his presence immediately settles something inside me. “You look like you’re planning a prison escape.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Is it that obvious?”
His mouth twitches. “To me? Yeah.”
I gesture vaguely toward the window. “Am I a terrible person if I say I need a break from all of this?”
Shadow steps fully into the room. His expression softens. “No.”
The simple answer loosens my shoulders. “Really? But you’ve all been so good to me, to Owen. I feel so ungrateful.”
“No,” he repeats. “You’re human.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then the words I’ve been carrying around for days finally come spilling out.
“I just need some breathing room. Nothing crazy. I don’t want to run away or do anything stupid.
I just…” I search for the right words. “I need a few hours where nobody is talking about stalkers or security cameras or protection schedules. I want to meet Dani for a drink. I want to gossip and complain and pretend my life isn’t completely insane for one evening. ”
Understanding appears in his eyes. Unfortunately, so does concern. “Sadie.”
I groan. “Don’t.”
His smile appears briefly. “I wasn’t going to say no.”
Hope flickers. “You weren’t?”
Shadow sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I understand why you need it. Honestly, I think you’ve handled all of this better than most people would.”
“There is a but, isn’t there?”
“There is absolutely a but.” A glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
I throw my hands into the air. “Of course there is.”
His smile widens slightly. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
I narrow my eyes. “What condition?”
“I stay nearby.” Before I can protest, he continues.
“You won’t know I’m there. I won’t sit at your table.
I won’t interrupt girls’ night. Hell, I won’t even set foot in the same bar unless I have to.
But if something happens, if somebody approaches you, or if I think you’re in danger, I’m stepping in. ”
I study him for a moment. The frustrating thing is that it’s a reasonable compromise. The even more frustrating thing is that he’s right. Finally, I sigh. “Fine.”
Relief flashes briefly across his face. “Fine?”
“Fine.”
A slow smile spreads across his features. “I’ll go break the news to the others that we’re going clubbing, and they’re staying in with Owen.”
I wince. “God, that makes it sound awful.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just tell them the truth. You need a few hours away from the clubhouse. I’m gonna be watching from a distance.”
I smile. “Good luck with that.” Even dressed up, he’s going to have his work cut out to convince Trigger, and Chief is so controlling that I doubt he’ll like it; even Dash won’t be keen on the idea.
Shadow actually laughs. “I’ll need it.”
The thought of Trigger’s reaction alone is enough to make me feel sorry for him.
Still, as Shadow heads for the door and I move toward the wardrobe to start getting ready, I feel lighter than I have in days.
For the first time in weeks, I have something that belongs entirely to me—a night with my best friend, a few hours of freedom, and hopefully, enough distance to finally figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do about four very different men who seem determined to occupy every corner of my heart.
By the time I make my way downstairs, I’m feeling considerably more optimistic about the evening.
The simple act of getting ready has helped.
After weeks of stress, fear, and endless discussions about stalkers, spending an hour focusing on something as ordinary as choosing a dress feels strangely therapeutic.
I’ve curled my hair into loose waves that fall over my shoulders, added enough makeup to make my eyes stand out without looking overdone, and squeezed myself into a dark green dress that hugs my curves before falling to mid-thigh.
Paired with black heels that I will undoubtedly regret after a few hours, the overall effect is considerably more glamorous than my usual school-run-and-grocery-store wardrobe.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like myself.
Or at least a version of myself that exists independently from motherhood, stalkers, and motorcycle clubs.
The thought stays with me right up until I reach the bottom of the stairs and discover that Shadow is nowhere to be found. Instead, Chief is waiting.
He is leaning casually against the bar, one boot crossed over the other, a glass of water sitting untouched beside him.
Dressed entirely in black, from his fitted T-shirt to the dark jeans disappearing into worn boots, he somehow manages to look effortlessly sexy.
The sleeves stretch across powerful forearms, and the low lighting catches the silver beginning to appear at his temples, making him look unfairly handsome.
For a second, neither of us speaks. Chief’s gaze lifts, then slowly travels downward.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. The look isn’t crude or lecherous.
If anything, that makes it worse. There is genuine appreciation there, the kind that makes me feel beautiful rather than exposed.
His eyes eventually return to mine, and a corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re going to cause trouble.”
I roll my eyes, mostly because my pulse has suddenly become impossible to ignore. “Hello to you too.”
His gaze lingers for another second, long enough to make me wonder if he’s contemplating ripping the dress right off me, and whether I’d protest—I doubt it—before he straightens. “Ready to go?”
“Where’s Shadow?”
Something unreadable flickers across his expression. “I needed Shadow for something else.”
My suspicion immediately rises. “That’s vague.”
“It was supposed to be.”
I narrow my eyes.
He smiles smugly at me, like he’s holding a winning hand of cards. “Unless you think Trigger or Dash are capable of honoring Shadow’s promise to remain invisible for an entire evening, you’re stuck with me.”
The image of either man attempting subtle surveillance is so ridiculous that it makes me laugh. “Okay.”
He nods and smirks. “Thought so.”
I point a warning finger at him. “Fine, but if you’re replacing Shadow, we’re establishing ground rules.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Should I be taking notes?”
“Stay away from me.”
“Always or?” he quips, unusually jovial.
I roll my eyes. “Tonight. And no lurking beside my table, either. Shadow was going to wait outside.”
He nods.
“And especially no interrogating men who speak to me,” I add for good measure.
His expression remains infuriatingly neutral. “I’ll do my best.”
“You sound like you’re already planning to fail.”
“I’m assessing the likelihood. In that dress, there’s going to be a lot of men speaking to you, not all of them with gentlemanly intentions.”
I groan. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You are such a dominating control freak.” The words leave my mouth before I fully think them through.
A slow smile appears on his face. “Oh, am I?” There is something in his voice that makes my stomach tighten unexpectedly.
I fold my arms. “You absolutely are.”
His gaze holds mine. For a moment, neither of us looks away.
Then, very deliberately, he takes a step closer.
The movement is small. The effect is not.
Suddenly, I am aware of everything—the warmth radiating from him, the clean scent of soap mixed with leather and something uniquely masculine, the sheer physical presence of him.
My body reacts instantly, traitorously, in ways I would rather not examine too closely.
Chief notices, of course, the man misses nothing. Faint amusement appears in his eyes. “Control has its uses. It can be fun, if you allow it to be, when used in the right ways,” he says.
The comment sends a ridiculous rush of heat through me. God, Chief hasn’t talked to me like this in… well… ever, not since we were messaging anyway. “You’re acting as bad as Dash,” I reply, trying to laugh it off, but my voice comes out shaky.
His voice drops slightly lower. “Oh, trust me, I’m a lot harder to handle than any of the others.”
Something dangerous flickers briefly between us before he steps back again, the moment disappearing almost as quickly as it arrived. Whatever thought had been lurking behind his eyes vanishes behind the familiar calm mask.
“There you go again,” I mutter.
His forehead furrows. “What?”
“Being impossible to understand.”
For a second, something surprisingly vulnerable appears in his expression. Then it’s gone. “Let’s go. You’ll be late.” Before I can press him further, he turns and heads toward the door.
I stare after him, completely bewildered. One minute, he’s looking at me as though he wants to devour me, and the next, he’s retreating behind walls so thick I could spend the rest of my life trying to climb them. Honestly, the man is going to drive me insane.