Chapter Ten #3
My chest goes tight as Savage’s eyes flick to mine. Crimson’s words from moments ago echo through the yard.
Weak spot.
Leash.
Club or woman.
Harper’s fingers tighten around my wrist.
Reaper laughs softly. “Tick tock, Steel. Medic or brothers. Let’s see who bleeds prettier.”
The line cuts and Saint curses. “Lost it. But I got a sector.”
“Where?” Savage asks.
“North side. Near the old rail yard.”
Savage starts issuing orders, but the words come through water. Men move around me, plans form, guns are checked. Harper stands in front of me, still holding my wrist. Her face has gone still too.
She heard it too. The choice being orchestrated around us. Club or her. Brotherhood or woman. Duty or devotion.
I know what I’m supposed to say. That there’s no choice. That the club comes first. Always. That’s the vow. Blood in, blood out. Sons before self. Sons before everything.
But then I look at Harper. At the woman who stood in a yard full of killers and told my enemy the truth about me I didn’t know how to speak.
She lets go of my wrist and steps back. Not far but far enough.
“Don’t,” I say.
Her eyes lift. “Don’t what?”
“Pull away because he said the quiet part out loud.”
Pain flashes across her face before she can rein it in. “I’m not pulling away.”
“You are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About leaving.”
Her jaw tightens, and that’s answer enough. The quiet tries to come back, but this time it’s not filled with rage. It’s filled with fear. Ugly. Raw. Unfamiliar. I would rather take a fucking bullet.
Savage calls my name from near the gate. “Steel. War room.”
I don’t look away from Harper.
She straightens. “Go.”
“No.”
Her eyes flash. “This is not the time to be difficult.”
“It’s exactly the time.”
“The club needs you.”
“So do you.”
The words hit both of us and her breath catches. Around us, the yard goes very still again, but I don’t care. Let them hear. Let Reaper hear somehow. Let every brother decide what kind of problem they have with it.
Harper steps closer, voice low. “Don’t say things like that because you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You are always angry.”
“Not right now.”
She searches my face, and I let her see it. All of it. The fear. The truth.
“You need me alive,” I say. “You need me steady. You need me not walking into traps because a bastard knows which name to use.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“And I need you breathing. I need you here. I need you not deciding for both of us that leaving makes me stronger.”
Her eyes shine. “I don’t want to be the thing that breaks your club.”
“You won’t be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” I say. “But I know what breaks men. And it isn’t caring. It’s pretending they don’t.”
Her mouth trembles once before she steps into me. Not hiding. Not surrendering. Choosing.
In front of the yard, she presses her forehead to my chest, and I close one hand over the back of her head. The gesture is small but still possessive, and it speaks volumes.
Mine, every man sees.
Hers, if they’re smart enough to understand.
Savage waits. Because he is my president. Because he knows this moment matters.
Raven’s voice cuts softly through the silence. “That’s the difference, boys.” No one asks what she means, but she says it anyway. “A leash pulls. A choice stands.”
Harper exhales against my chest, and I feel it everywhere. Harper pulls back first. Her eyes are clearer now. Not calm but decided.
“Go to your meeting,” she says, and I start to argue. She touches my jaw. “I’ll be here when you come back.”
Raven steps beside her. “I’ll stay with her.” Savage’s gaze snaps to Raven, and she arches a brow. “Problem?” Savage says nothing.
I look at Raven. “You see anything...”
“I scream dramatically and faint,” she says dramatically, and Harper snorts.
Raven’s smile thins. “I handle it, Steel. Go think before you hit things. Apparently, that’s your new brand.”
I should hate her, but I don’t. She’s just Raven.
I turn toward the war room, and every man in the yard looks away except Savage. He holds my gaze as I approach.
“You good?” he asks.
“No.”
His mouth curves grimly. “With the woman we choose, I’ve come to learn we will never be good.”
Inside, the war room fills fast. Map on the table. Saint marking the rail yard sector. Fury checking sight lines. Crimson silent now, smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
Savage stands at the head. “Reaper wants to force a split. He thinks Steel will choose Harper over the club, or the club over Harper.” He looks around the room. “Either way, he thinks we fracture.”
No one speaks. Savage’s gaze lands on me. “So we don’t.”
My hands rest on the table. Harper’s touch still burns on my wrist. “We make the choice irrelevant,” I say.
Saint nods slowly. “Hit him before he sets the stage.”
“Draw him out?” Fury asks.
“No,” I say. “Cut off his exits. Make him run where we want.”
Savage studies me. So does the room. The hammer is thinking, and it seems some people are freaked out by it. Good. Let them adjust.
I point to the rail yard map. “He’s using her to bait me, which means he expects my eyes on the obvious threat. So we give him that. He sees me coming. He thinks it worked.”
Saint’s mouth curves. “Meanwhile?”
“Meanwhile, Savage hits his supply line. Fury takes the west exit. Crimson holds the south road.” I look at Crimson. “If you can manage that without commentary.”
His jaw flexes. “I can hold a road.”
“Good.”
Savage nods once. “And Harper?”
My chest tightens. I hate the answer before I give it.
“She stays here with Mama M, Raven, and six men. Locked down.”
Saint’s brows lift. “She’ll hate that.”
“Yes.”
“She’ll argue.”
“Yes.”
“She might stab someone with trauma shears.”
I almost smile. “Tell the men to stay out of striking distance.”
Savage looks satisfied. The club moves around me, not fractured, not uncertain, but aligned ... for now. But beneath every word, Reaper’s threat keeps breathing. Medic or brothers.