“I will come back to you,” he murmurs, his voice so low I can barely hear it. “I swear it.”
Maddie nods, burying her face against his chest. “You’d better,” she whispers back. “Or I’ll follow you to whatever afterlife exists just to kick your ass.”
A smile transforms Dragon’s face, making him look younger, almost boyish. He leans down and kisses her with such tenderness that I have to look away, feeling like I’m intruding on something sacred.
I slip past the door as quietly as possible, moving quickly down the hall before either of them can notice me.
By the time I reach the common room, I’ve composed myself. The space is filled with men checking weapons, strapping on extra clips, adjusting their cuts. The air crackles with tension, a palpable energy that feels like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
Roman stands near the center of the room with Gray, going over something on a tablet. He looks up when I enter, our eyes meeting briefly before he returns to the conversation. I find a spot against the wall, out of the way but where I can see everything.
Demon lounges nearby, looking for all the world like he’s preparing for a casual night out rather than a potential gunfight. He catches my eye and winks, the gesture so at odds with the gravity of the situation that I almost laugh.
The relative quiet is shattered when Wrath, and today he is all Wrath, storms in.
“I’m coming with you,” he announces to the room at large, though it’s clear he’s addressing Demon.
Demon doesn’t even look up from the gun he’s examining. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. You patched me into your club. I have a right to be there.”
“You’re staying here,” Demon says, finally looking up. There’s an unusual thread of steel in his voice.
“Why?” Wrath demands. “Because you think I can’t handle it?”
“Because I said so,” Demon replies. “That‘s reason enough.”
Wrath’s face darkens with anger, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
Several of the men nearby shift uncomfortably, sensing the brewing storm. Dragon enters the room then, his expressionunreadable, all traces of the tender man I saw in the kitchen completely gone. His eyes quickly assess the standoff.
“What’s the problem here?” he asks, his tone making it clear that there better not be one.
“I’m going with you,” Wrath says, turning to Dragon with a desperate sort of defiance.
Dragon looks at Demon, who gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
“We need men we can count on here too,” Dragon says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “To protect the clubhouse. To protect the women.”
Wrath’s jaw works as he stares first at Dragon, then at Demon. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says finally. “You two just don‘t trust me to have your back.”
Something flickers across Demon’s face. “That’s not true.”
“Prove it, then,” Wrath challenges. “Let me come.”
The room falls silent, everyone waiting to see how this will play out. I notice Roman watching the exchange with a frown, clearly not happy with the delay.
Demon stands, crossing to Wrath in three long strides. He stops just in front of the younger man, studying him with those eerie green-gold eyes that can make even the toughest men squirm. Wrath stares back at him with the same eyes.
“If you come,” Demon says finally, his voice low and serious, “you follow orders. Every single one. No questions, no hesitation. You stay where I put you, do what I tell you to do. Understood?”
Wrath’s face brightens with triumph. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“And,” Demon continues, “if you get yourself killed, I‘ll dig up your corpse and kill you again myself.”
A grin breaks across Wrath’s face. “That’s the most you’ve ever cared about me. I’m touched.”