Chapter Thirty
CHURCH FELT HEAVIER today. Not just smoke and leather and the usual tension, but the kind that crawled under your skin and sat there like a weight.
We were all at the table. Devil at the head, Mystic at his right, Chain leaned lazy in his seat, the point of his blade tappin’ the wood in a rhythm that sounded like trouble.
Gearhead and the rest of the council leaned forward, elbows dug in, watchin’ me like I might fall on my own knife.
Hunter stood against the wall, shoulders stiff, face pale.
Prospect. On trial whether he knew it or not.
Devil let the silence drag. He was good at that, makin’ a man sweat his own guilt before the words even came. Finally, his gaze cut to me.
“Tell it straight.”
I nodded once. “Zara went missin’ this afternoon. Sable called me. Said she’d been playin’ out front with a ball. Hunter was supposed to be watchin’. He wasn’t.”
Every head turned. Hunter flinched.
“I was there,” Hunter stammered, his voice too quick, too desperate. “I swear it. Went inside for maybe five minutes, tops. Kid was right there when I left.”
“Five minutes,” Chain repeated, drawlin’ it out. “Might as well been a fuckin’ hour.”
Devil didn’t raise his voice, didn’t slam his hand. He didn’t have to. Just looked at Hunter until the kid damn near shrank outta his cut. “Your only job was keepin’ eyes on her. You failed.”
“She heard somethin’,” I said, cuttin’ in before Hunter dug his own grave deeper. “When we found her, Zara swore she heard a voice callin’ her name. Said it sounded nice. Friendly. That’s why she followed it.”
That got the room’s attention. Mystic’s jaw tightened, his eyes colder than steel. “She’s what four or five. Kids make shit up. You sure she wasn’t imaginin’?”
I shook my head. “She was terrified. That wasn’t imagination. Someone was out there. Someone who knew her name.”
The table went quiet, heavier than before.
Gearhead broke it. “Which means one of two things. Either Gabrial’s already got eyes this close, or somebody else is playin’ his game.”
“Either way,” Devil said, his eyes hard, “this just went from a favor to a warfront.”
Hunter tried again, voice crackin’. “I didn’t see anyone, I swear. If there was somebody out there—”
“Stop talkin’,” Devil snapped, just sharp enough to cut him down. Then he leaned back, fingers steepled. “If Gabrial knows where she is, he won’t stop at whispering in the woods. He’ll burn his way straight to our front door.”
That picture sat in the room like blood spilled across the table.
Mystic shifted, finally speakin’ again. “So what’s the move?”
Devil looked at me, eyes red in the low light. “You brought her into our world, Thunder. You stand by her now. But understand, if Lopez wants her back, he’s coming with everything he’s got. That makes this all of ours. That makes it personal.”
I felt the weight of it, heavy and final, but I didn’t flinch. “Then let him come.”
Chain leaned forward, grinnin’ like a wolf. “Shit. It hasn’t been that long since our last blood fight. But I’m sure as hell ready for another.”
Nobody laughed. Not this time.
Devil’s voice cut through, final as a gavel. “From here on, she doesn’t leave that clubhouse without one of us. No exceptions. Hunter, you breathe wrong around her again, you’ll wish Lopez got to you first. Are we clear?”
“Yes, prez,” Hunter muttered, his voice strangled.
Devil stood, chair scraping. “Church dismissed. But listen close, we’re sittin’ on a powder keg. Lopez wants his flame back? He’ll bleed for it. Question is, how much are we ready to bleed to keep her?”
The table stayed quiet. No one answered out loud. But I already knew mine.
As much as it took.
***
I FOUND HER standin’ beneath one of the big oaks out back, leanin’ against the trunk like she was part of it, arms crossed, shoulders tight, her face tipped up to the night sky like she was hopin’ the stars might whisper some damn truth she could hold onto.
She didn’t hear me at first, and I didn’t say a word right away.
Just stood there a moment, lettin’ the quiet stretch while I watched her.
Barefoot in the grass, hair spillin’ down her back like silk, that guarded stillness wrapped ‘round her like a shield. She looked like she was waitin’ for somethin’ to hit her, and bracin’ herself to take it without flinchin’.
“I was wonderin’ where you’d gone off to,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice soft—not too gentle, but not hard either. She’d been sheltered too damn much in her life by folks who still managed to break her anyway. She didn’t need another soft lie. She needed somethin’ real.
Her voice was quiet when it came, steady but raw like it’d scraped its way up from someplace deep. “I needed to breathe.”
I stepped in a little closer, slow and careful not to crowd her, lettin’ her feel the space still belonged to her. “Yeah,” I murmured, noddin’. “I get that more’n you know.”
Truth was, I hadn’t come out here lookin’ to talk or drag her back inside. I just needed to see her. Needed to know she was still holdin’ herself together in that way she did—tight and quiet, like if she let go, everything might come crashin’ down around her.
“I didn’t mean to disappear,” she said after a long pause, her voice almost lost in the night.
“You didn’t,” I told her, meetin’ her eyes as she turned toward me. “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”
She faced me fully then, the porch light catchin’ her cheek just enough to throw shadows across her face, but not enough to hide the weariness there. She looked like a woman who’d finally stopped runnin’ but still didn’t know how to stand still without feelin’ like she was sinkin’.
“You think bringing us here was the right move?” she asked, hesitatin’ just a breath.
“I think it was a damn good one,” I said, no room for doubt in my tone. “Still do. And I’ll stand on that, no matter who’s askin’.”
That made her blink, like my words had landed somewhere she wasn’t ready to touch.
Then she stepped in close, so close I could feel the warmth comin’ off her skin, could breathe in that soft scent of hers, clean and rain-kissed with just a hint of somethin’ sweet underneath.
It hit me deep and fast, twistin’ through my gut and straight to my cock.
“I don’t know how to trust this,” she admitted. “You. This place. Myself.”
“Then don’t,” I said, reachin’ for the truth I figured she needed more than a promise. “Not yet. Ain’t askin’ you to, shit takes time.”
She looked up at me then, and her hand lifted, slow and uncertain, fingers pressin’ against my chest, right over the heart she didn’t know she already had locked in a damn chokehold.
And I couldn’t hold back anymore.
Didn’t even try.
I reached out, slid my hand ‘round the back of her neck, pulled her in slow, and kissed her.
Not careful.
Not cautious.
Hell, I was past that. This wasn’t patience. Wasn’t kindness. This was hunger, raw, deep, the kind that’d been chewin’ me alive since the first second I saw her standin’ on that roadside, eyes haunted and still too damn beautiful to look away from.
The second my mouth found hers, I knew I wasn’t stoppin’. Her lips opened under mine like she’d been waitin’ just as long, a soft gasp spillin’ out that lit every nerve in me on fire. She tasted sweet, sharp, like sin dressed up holy, and I was done for.
Her fingers tangled in my cut, yanking me closer, desperate, needy, like she didn’t even realize how bad she wanted this until it was already happenin’.
I groaned into her mouth, low and rough, my hands slidin’ up her sides to grip her waist, thumbs pressing into soft skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.
She arched into me without thinkin’, her chest hittin’ mine, and Jesus, the feel of her, warm, alive, givin’ herself over, nearly knocked me out.
I kissed her harder, deeper, every brush of her lips tellin’ me she wasn’t fragile, she wasn’t untouchable—she was fire waitin’ to burn me alive, and I wanted it.
My tongue swept into her mouth, claimin’, coaxin’, and when she moaned—quiet, broken, real—I damn near lost the last thread of control I had left.
Her body shifted closer, her thigh brushin’ mine, and I slid a hand down, fingers itchin’ to grab, to lift, to see how far she’d let me go. She didn’t stop me. Didn’t even flinch. She just clung tighter, like she wanted me to take every piece of her she’d never been allowed to give.
And then—that damn whistle cut through the trees, shrill and slow and deliberate.
Chain.
I knew the sound instantly. Probably out there chasin’ ghosts again, he couldn’t let go of the past if you gave him a shovel and pointed to the grave.
We broke apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together, her lips swollen from my kiss, my heart jackhammerin’ like I’d just gone twelve rounds and still wanted more.
“Damn timing,” I muttered, brushin’ my thumb across her bottom lip one last time, slow and possessive. “We’ll finish this later, darlin’. Count on it.”
We turned together and started walkin’ back toward the clubhouse, her shoulder touchin’ mine.
But part of me?
Hell, part of me stayed right there, under that oak, with her kiss still scorched into my mouth like wildfire.