They go straight to Angel.
The room shifts around them like water parting.
I feel Meg beside me straighten slightly, as Marisol stops mid-sentence and even Dani’s fingers pause on the neck of her beer bottle.
That’s not normal. When brothers come back from club business or a run the first thing they do is check their women. A kiss, a hand on a shoulder, a quiet word.
Not tonight.
Tonight they move like soldiers returning to a command post, straight to their commander. Low voices start immediately, too quiet to hear, but the tension is loud. I watch Torch gesture toward the hallway.
“This is business for Church,” someone mutters.
Angel shakes his head slowly. “Not yet.”
Clutch hasn’t looked at me, not once.
My stomach twists.
This goes on for minutes that really feel like hours. Everyone is holding their breath, waiting for what comes next. The circle around Angel shifts slightly and opens. Now I can see them clearly. Angel is standing in the centre of the group, Clutch at his left shoulder, half a step behind him. Arms folded, jaw locked. Razor on Angel’s right, but he isn’t looking at Angel. He’s looking atme.
Behind them Cypher is hunched over his laptop at the bar, typing so fast it sounds like rain hitting metal. The entire clubhouse feels like someone pulled the air out of it.
Then Clutch finally looks up and our eyes meet. For half a second something flashes across his face. Something sharp, raw. Then just as fast it disappears.
He raises his hand, crooks two fingers at me.
Come here.
No smile or warmth. Just a summons.
The whispering starts immediately. The club girls who had been draped over Razor’s group suddenly drift closer to him, like they know something is about to happen and they want the best view.
Scavengers.
I inhale slowly. He’s not even coming to me. He isn’t going to speak to me first, ask how I am.. Explain any of this.
What the hell is this?
My chair scrapes loudly when I stand, the sound echoes in the silence. The murmurs stop and everyone is watching what I do next. Marisol rises too and Meg follows. Dani doesn’t stand but her eyes track me carefully. Some of the other women peel away toward their men, others stay where they are, watching.
The room feels smaller with every step I take.
I walk toward the bar, toward Angel and the men surrounding him. I hold my head high, keep my shoulders straight. The leather cut presses against my back.
PROPERTY OF CLUTCH.
Usually it feels grounding. I had gone so long in my life living alone. Drifting from one place to another. Never settling in with a crowd or a person. Belonging to Clutch, to this group, had its appeal… even if part of me never quite trusted it to last.
Tonight it feels like armour that suddenly doesn’t fit right.
I stop a few feet in front of Angel, because even though he is not the one who called me over, I know who actually summoned me. Clutch is right there, close enough that I can smell the leather and sweat and engine oil clinging to him. He doesn’t say my name or step forward. Doesn't even look at me.
Angel clears his throat softly, pulling my focus back to him. “You know I like you, Bex… right?”
The question throws me, I tilt my head slightly taking him in. At first glance you would think Angel is having a casual conversation, that he is relaxed. But there is an undercurrent of tension in his body posture that is hard to ignore.
“Actually?” I say, my voice steady. “No.”