Chapter Three
Jade stilled her hand mid-wipe, the cloth hovering near Jane’s chin when the knock came. For a second, she didn’t move at all. Another knock followed. It was louder this time, more insistent.
Jade’s stomach tightened. It wasn’t unusual, she told herself.
People knocked. Mrs. Rochford sometimes needed things like sugar, tea, or even a hand with a stubborn jar lid.
It could be just that. Still, something about the knock didn’t feel like Mrs. Rochford.
Jane made a soft noise, tugging at Jade’s sleeve, oblivious.
“Hey,” Jade murmured, forcing her voice steady. She wiped the last bit of food from Jane’s chin. “It’s okay.”
Another knock came—it almost felt impatient. Jade’s pulse ticked up.
“I’m coming,” she called, a little louder than necessary.
She set the cloth down and moved toward the door, each step slower than the last despite the way her body wanted to rush. Jade curled her fingers briefly at her sides, then flexed them open again.
It was nothing, only a knock. Her hand hovered over the knob for a fraction of a second. Then she turned it, and the door finally opened. Jade froze, because the man standing on the other side didn’t belong here.
He was too still and composed, that was the first thing Jade noticed.
He was tall, but not overly bulky. His shoulders were broad under a black leather jacket, the material worn but well-kept, like it had been taken care of as much as it had been used.
He had dark hair, neatly kept. There wasn’t a strand out of place.
There was also lean muscle in the way he held himself, and then there was the patch. Jade’s gaze snagged on it before she could stop herself. A skull crowned in something darker. Devil’s Crown MC. The air seemed too thin. A chill slid down her spine, cold and immediate.
Everyone knew them. You couldn’t live in this town and not know. The stories, the whispers, the way people lowered their voices when they said the name like it might hear them. The way cops looked the other way. The way businesses stayed open or closed depending on whether the club wanted them to.
Jade swallowed. For one wild second, instinct screamed at her to slam the door shut. Jade could lock it, pull Jane close and wait it out like a storm. However, something in the way the biker stood there, unmoving and unbothered told her that would be a mistake.
Men like him would take that action as an insult, and he probably wouldn’t forget it. Her grip tightened slightly on the edge of the door, but she didn’t move to close it. He smiled, and it wasn’t friendly. Not really.
There was something measured about it, controlled. Unease settled in her bones. It made something in her chest tighten. For some reason, the curve of his lips reminded her of a predatory wolf.
“I’m Wolf,” he said, tone polite.
The disconnect between the name, the presence, and the tone made Jade’s skin prickle.
“And I’m looking for Derek Callahan,” Wolf added.
For a second, the words didn’t land. They hovered somewhere just out of reach. Her tired mind was too slow to catch up. Derek. Jade blinked once, then twice. She tightened her grip on the door until her knuckles went pale. This man, this Devil’s Crown biker, was here for Derek.
A cold, creeping dread unfurled in her stomach. Was that why he’d left without an explanation? Derek sometimes traveled out of town, but something about this time had felt more final. What had he done?
Jade’s heart started to pound, hard enough she could feel it in her throat. Money, it had to be money.
Derek was always chasing something. Whether it was easy cash, quick wins, or shortcuts that never quite worked out the way he thought they would. He’d talked before, careless and loose, about knowing people, about opportunities.
Jade had never asked too many questions, but now she wished she had. Her mind raced, pieces sliding into place in a way that made her stomach turn.
If Devil’s Crown MC was involved, and they sent this frightening man here, then this issue wasn’t small. Jane let out a soft sound behind her, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. Jade’s spine straightened.
No. Whatever this was, whatever Derek had done, she wasn’t letting it show. Fear sat heavy in her chest, thick and suffocating, but she forced it down, buried it under something harder. Defiance.
Slowly, deliberately, Jade lifted her chin. She met his gaze and noticed he had green eyes so dark Jade thought they were black. They were clear and focused, and he watched her in a way that made it feel like he was taking inventory of her, of the room behind her, of everything.
Jade squared her shoulders.
“No,” she said. Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “He’s not here.”
Wolf didn’t move—heck, he didn’t even react. He simply watched her and that worsened her growing unease. The silence stretched, thin and taut, like a wire pulled too tight. Jade held his gaze anyway. She told herself not to look away or fidget. Jade wouldn’t give him anything he could use.
“I don’t know where he is,” she added, each word placed carefully, deliberately. “He left.”
Another beat. The hallway felt smaller now, the air heavier, like it was pressing in on her from all sides.
Wolf flicked his gaze, just briefly, past her shoulder, and into the apartment. He seemed to take in the space, the dim light, the smallness of it. Jade shifted, just enough to block the view. It was motherly instinct.
Something flickered in his face at that. Surprise, then perhaps interest. Her pulse jumped. Jane made another noise behind her, louder this time, a soft whine that edged toward a cry.
Jade’s chest tightened. Not now. Please, not now. Wolf’s attention shifted again, subtle but unmistakable. He’d heard it, of course he had. Jade swallowed, forcing her focus back to him, back to the moment.
“I told you,” she said, a little sharper now. “Derek’s not here.”
She didn’t add anything else, make explanations or apologize on that asshole’s behalf. Whatever Derek had done, it wasn’t hers to answer for, even though this biker might not see it that way.
Wolf’s gaze returned to her face, steady, unreadable.
For a second, Jade wondered if he’d push past her anyway. If he’d decide her answer wasn’t enough, that he’d take what he wanted regardless. Jade curled her fingers against the doorframe, nails biting into the wood.
Let him try. The thought came sharp and fierce, cutting through the fear. She wouldn’t make it easy, even though her heart was racing, and dread coiled tighter with every passing second. Jade held her ground. She kept her chin up, her shoulders back, not breaking away from his stare.
“I don’t know where he is,” she repeated, quieter now, but no less firm.
Behind her, Jane started to cry in earnest. The sound cut through the tension like a blade. Jade didn’t look back, although all she wanted to do was run back to Jane and console her.
****
Wolf had wrongly assumed retrieving Callahan would be easy.
The last thing Wolf expected was to bump into Jade.
He stood in the narrow hallway, one hand braced lightly against the doorframe, gaze fixed on her while a baby cried somewhere behind her, the sound sharp and insistent, cutting through the space in uneven bursts.
Before coming here, he had one of the club’s tech guys pull what little there was on Derek Callahan.
Callahan was the kind of man who thought he was smarter than he was.
There’d been a note about a kid, a daughter, and a girlfriend listed as Jade.
Wolf had filed it away as irrelevant, background noise.
Then he came here and met Jade face-to-face. She wasn’t what he’d pictured. Wolf had met all sorts of women in his line of work. Most of them were weak. They pleaded, broke down when he questioned them about their scummy boyfriends. Jade wasn’t like that.
She was tired. He could see that immediately. It clung to her, settled into the lines of her face, the way her shoulders held tension, but underneath that was steel.
She lifted her chin slightly, her spine straight despite the exhaustion dragging at her. Her sharp blue eyes held his without flinching. Defiance flickered in her like a live wire.
For reasons Wolf didn’t bother examining too closely, it caught his attention in a way very few things did. Women like her always had. The baby cried again, louder this time, and Jade didn’t look back. She didn’t break eye contact, although he could tell she wanted to.
Wolf looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of movement. A small shape in a highchair, tiny hands slapping against plastic, face red with frustration. A baby girl. She was maybe a year old, too young to understand anything except that she needed something and wasn’t getting it fast enough.
Something tightened in his chest, an unwelcome and unnecessary emotion. He ignored it, because he had to focus on the job first. It always came first.
“May I come in?” Wolf asked, keeping his tone polite.
Jade didn’t answer immediately. Once again, she stared at the patch on his jacket. When she looked back up, something had shifted. Not fear, he’d already seen that. This was calculation. She was weighing options she didn’t have.
“No,” she said finally. “We can talk right here.”
Wolf studied her. Most people would’ve stepped aside, simply let him in. They would try to placate him, and make themselves smaller, in the hope it would make him easier to deal with.
She didn’t. Jade merely planted herself in the doorway like a barrier.
The baby cried again, a thin, desperate sound that scraped along the edges of the silence between them. Wolf could push. He could step forward, force the issue, make it clear that this wasn’t a request, but he didn’t.
There was something endearing in the way she stood there, looking ready to fight something she couldn’t possibly win, and with that child behind her. He shifted his weight slightly instead, settling into stillness.
“You mentioned Derek isn’t here,” he said. “Where is he?”
Jade tightened her jaw, still looking gloriously stubborn.
“I told you,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“He left. Yesterday,” Jade finally added.
Yesterday. Wolf filed that away instantly.
“Left,” he repeated.
“Yes.” Jade curled her fingers against the edge of the door, pressing her nails into the wood like she needed something solid to hold onto. “That stupid ex of mine didn’t explain why he was leaving or anything.”
The baby let out a sharper cry, louder now, verging on a wail. Jade’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second toward the sound, then snapped back to him.
“Ex?” he asked.
She blinked. “What?”
“You said ex,” Wolf pointed out.
“Yeah,” she muttered.
“Aren’t you together?” Wolf queried.
“No, not anymore.” Something in her expression shifted again, anger this time, before she shoved it down.
Wolf watched her, measuring. He searched her face for cracks, any hesitation, anything that didn’t line up.
“How convenient,” he said.
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not covering for him,” she shot back.
He didn’t respond immediately. Wolf merely let the silence stretch, let it press.
“You know who I am,” he said finally.
It wasn’t a question. Jade held his gaze. Nodded once.
“I know,” she said, biting on her lower lip.
“And who I work for,” Wolf added.
Another nod. “Yeah.”
Wolf tilted his head slightly, studying her face.
“Then you understand,” he said, “that withholding information from me isn’t a good idea.”
Her lips pressed together.
“And it’s not worth it,” he continued, “defending Derek Callahan.”
She laughed, and the sound was short, sharp, and entirely without humor.
“Defending him?” she echoed.
There was a bitterness in it that caught even Wolf slightly off guard.
“You think I’d defend him?” Jade demanded. Wolf waited for her explanation.
“That bastard left,” she said, the words coming faster now, sharper, like they’d been building for a while and finally found a way out. “He walked out knowing exactly who he’d pissed off. Knowing what would come knocking.”
Her voice wavered, just once, then steadied. “And he didn’t look back. I’m not covering for him,” she said again, quieter now but no less certain. “And I’m sure as hell not defending him.”
Wolf watched her a moment and decided he believed her.
It was the way she said the words. Her anger burned clean and direct. There was no hesitation when she cut Derek out of the equation like he’d already stopped mattering. He’d seen enough lies to know what they looked like, and Jade didn’t strike him as a liar.
Still, the situation hadn’t changed. Something in the back of his mind stirred anyway. An unwelcome memory of a small kitchen. Wolf saw a younger version of himself, pressed back against a wall, watching his mother stand her ground while his useless and sad excuse of a father raged.
Wolf saw his own mother in Jade. She was a woman desperately holding herself together when everything around her was falling apart. Still Jade was fighting. The thought sat wrong, but he shoved it aside.
“Good,” Wolf said.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“Then we’re clear,” he added.
Jade exhaled slowly, tension still coiled tight in her frame.
“If that’s all,” she said, already shifting, already starting to pull the door in, “I need to—”
Jade started to shut the door, but the baby’s cry spiked, urgent now. Jade’s focus broke just for a second, her head turning slightly toward the sound. Wolf’s hand came up, bracing against the door before it could close.
Jade’s gaze snapped back to him, sharp. “I told you—”
“Derek owes the club.”
The words cut through everything. Jade stilled, and the air between them seemed to go tight, stretched thin.
“He didn’t just leave you,” he continued, voice even. “He took something that doesn’t belong to him. He owes us.”
Jade’s throat worked as she swallowed.
The defiance was still there, he could see it, bright and stubborn, but something else slid in alongside it now. Wolf didn’t look away.
“Which means,” he said, “this isn’t over.”