“Y-yes, sir.”
“You got a name?"
“I’m L-London." Her voice wavers but holds. "London Mitchell."
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.
"Why you lookin’ for him?” Chaos asks, his tone neutral but cold.
“He’s my…um…” She shifts the duffel higher on her shoulder. “I mean, I think he’s…my father?”
The way she says it makes it sound like a question.
"Who told you to come here?" Chaos continues.
“Well…no one told… I mean, my mother...” Her voice is no more than a whisper.The girl’s chin lifts a fraction. "She said he was a biker in this club."
"And what exactly do you want from him?"
"I just…” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat and tries again. “Um, I…maybe to…meet him? Maybe talk to him?”
Again, spoken like a question.
A few brothers exchange looks. The glance between Chaos and Demon carries weight—should we send her away? Should we tell her?
My eyes are glued to her. I can’t look away. The way she holds herself—shoulders back despite the fear—reminds me of…
She shifts her weight, and the security light catches her face at a new angle. There’s bruising under her eye, a fresh gash on her cheekbone that’s scabbed over, and dried blood at the corner of her jaw.
Someone hit her.
The rage I've been carrying for six months—the anger at Fiend, at myself, at the whole fucked-up situation—shifts direction. Refocuses.
"Look at me."
The girl’s gaze snaps to mine and it feels like an armor-piercing bullet.
I step forward, close enough to the fence that I can see every detail.
Those eyes—light green eyes with a dark green ring around the iris. They’re unusual. They’re unique, but I’ve seen them before.
My breath stops. The last time I saw eyes like those, I put a bullet right between them.
The realization hits like a freight train. This girl—this terrified, injured girl—isn’t lying. SheisFiend’s daughter. And she's standing here looking for a man who's six months in the ground.
Because of me.
Maybe that means I should tell her to get the fuck out of here. To get as far away from here as fast as she can.
But I can't let her leave. Can't turn her away. Can't send her back into whatever situation left that cut on her face.
"Let her in."
Chaos turns to me and cocks a brow. I’m out of line. I know it. His look says:you trying to give orders to the club Prez?
I hold his gaze. My look says:I’ll take responsibility for her.
Fury runs a hand down his face and, trying to save my ass from Chaos’s fist, stars, “Zeus?—"