Let every man in this clubhouse understand that a woman’s fear isn’t only evidence. It’s also injury.
Legend’s face tightens. “He bruised her.”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough. Not bad enough for her to stop explaining.”
Whiskey’s expression darkens.
Wildcat mutters, “Bastard.”
Legend turns his head toward the door.
I know that look.
That’s the look he gets when violence ain’t an emotion anymore. It’s a weapon he’s already picked up.
“Not tonight,” I say.
His gaze returns to me.
“Don’t go hunting this Jeremy Vale out of anger before Amelia knows where she stands. She’s had enough men make decisions and call them protection.”
Legend’s mouth tightens. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you know it in your head. Your hands may need reminding. Plus, it will be twice as hard for you if she chooses to go back to her husband.”
Whiskey suddenly becomes very interested in his notebook.
Wildcat looks down.
Royal smiles faintly because he enjoys any moment where someone survives telling Legend the truth.
Legend steps closer to me.
I don’t move back.
The men may mistake this for a confrontation. It’s not. This is what loving Legend means in our world. The man I’m supposed to marry carries a kingdom made of iron, blood, and old debts. I carry the parts of him that kingdom don’t know what to do with.
His voice lowers. “He put hands on a woman who may be my sister.”
“Yes.”
“And a child is upstairs asking if doors lock.”
“Yes.”
“You want me calm?”
“No,” I say. “I want you clear.”
His eyes stay on mine.
Then he exhales slowly through his nose.
The edge doesn’t leave him.