“Half of you don’t smile and walk around like miserable assholes all day,” I reply flatly. “But because you have dicks, apparently it’s fine.”
Ledger’s mouth twitches, as the brother mutters something under his breath and keeps walking.
I step out into the hallway, head held high.
The music downstairs is louder now.
I pull the door closed behind me. For a second I hesitate, tension sinking into me as I leave the safety of our room. But I shake it off and follow Ledger toward the stairs.
The bass hits first, a deep thud rolling up through the floorboards before the rest of the noise reaches us.
By the time we reach the bottom of the stairs, the party is already in full swing. The main room of the clubhouse is packed. Brothers leaning against the bar, girls perched on stools, bodies moving to music that’s a little too loud and a little too aggressive for the hour.
But the moment I step off the last stair, something shifts. Heads turn, not all at once, but just enough. Enough that I feel it.
Eyes on me.
I straighten my shoulders and keep walking. Angel stands at thebar with a few of the senior brothers. His beer is halfway to his mouth when he notices me. His gaze lingers for a second before he tips the bottle slightly in my direction.
He doesn’t offer a smile or approval, just acknowledgement.
I nod once, as Ledger heads straight for him.
Across the room Razor is leaning back against a high table with a handful of the men he runs closest with. Kori is draped across one of the stools beside him, her arm looped around his shoulder like she belongs there. Likesheis his woman.
He looks real torn up about Mara being missing.
Two other club girls hover nearby. Razor’s eyes meet mine for half a second and then he smiles. I look away, pushing down the need to flip him off in the middle of the club party.
The ol’ ladies’ table sits toward the far wall, away from the worst of the noise. A bucket of beer sits in the middle beside a sweating pitcher of margaritas. I head straight for it.
The women are already gathered when I approach. Marisol is there, Axel’s ol’ lady. Dark curls spilling over her shoulders, one leg tucked under her as she laughs at something Meg says.
Meg looks exactly like she always does, in a soft sweater, flour-dusted jeans even when she’s nowhere near her bakery. She’s Cyphers ol’ lady and the first to come close to befriending me.
She glances up when I stop beside the empty chair, then Dani’s eyes lift.
Daniela Velez has always carried herself differently from the rest of us. She has this steady, quiet energy that feels like she is always calm. Even though I know she is anything but right now. She studies me for a long second before nodding once toward the empty seat. This is the VP’s ol’ lady giving me permission. I sit and a moment of awkwardness settles on the table.
“Drink?” Meg asks.
“Sure.” I say, release my held breath.
She pours and slides the glass across the table. I take a small sip. It’s too sweet, too strong. But the burn helps settle the nerves buzzing under my skin.
I look at Dani, her warm brown eyes fixed on me.
“How are you holding up?” I ask.
Her fingers tighten slightly around the bottle of beer in front of her.
“I’ve been better.”
The honesty in her eyes makes my chest ache.
“I’ve heard what people are saying,” I say quietly. “About Four. About the informant.”
Her eyes widened like she didn’t expect me to face this head on.