“That doesn’t make fucking sense,” Day mutters, raking his hair back with the hand not holding the cigarette. “You don’t get assassinated for no fucking reason. He’s got to have dirt.”

“Unless…” Titch starts and cuts himself off.

“Unless what?” Rav demands.

Titch’s eyes meet mine and his mouth pulls down at the corners. “Unless he wasn’t the target.”

“This shit again? You honestly think Lucy is caught up in something?” I demand, the tingles of anger starting to fizzle in my belly. “Seriously?”

Titch’s gaze shifts to Rav before coming back to me. “I think he’s clean and we don’t really know fucking anything about this bitch.”

My chair flies back as I push to my feet and snag a handful of his kutte. Dragging him out of his seat, I pull him close until our noses are nearly touching.

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

Arms wrap around me tugging me back. Daimon. I let him pull me back, even though I want to throttle Titch. Instead, I release the fucker with a shove.

He smooths down his kutte as he takes his seat, eyeballing me. I can see the rage burning in his eyes as he takes me in. Titch might live up to his name as the smallest member of our club, but he still has a big fire that burns in his gut and he’s a scrappy fighter.

“It’s something we have to fucking consider. I know you don’t want to hear it, but if it ain’t him, it’s got to be her. If she’s the target, then shit changes drastically.”

He’s not wrong, but Lucy being involved in something dodgy like this doesn’t make a lick of sense.

“You really think Lucy is caught up in something that would get her taken out by a bunch of thugs with guns? You think for the last three years she’s been sneaking out of hers and Sasha’s flat, living this alternative life?”

“I don’t know what the fuck to think,” Titch mutters. “Hank’s not coming up with squat. It seems like a fucking big coincidence to me that he gets whacked and two of Isaac Blackwood’s guys suddenly are hanging around for no good reason. All I’m saying is we need to consider something more might be going on here.”

His words hit the back of my brain like a wrecking ball. Is he seriously saying he thinks there’s a link between what happened to Lucy and Blackwood’s men? Blackwood’s a fucking mobster. Why in the hell would he take squeaky clean Hank out? Or Lucy, for that matter?

“We don’t need to consider shit, because she ain’t caught up in anything, you hear me? And you call her a bitch again and I’ll ram your fucking teeth down your throat.”

Titch gives me a lazy lift of his brow. “What the fuck do you care what I call her?”

“Because she’s fucking mine!” I growl at him like a captured animal. I feel pretty fucking wild right now.

“Yours?” Rav’s voice doesn’t sound surprised as he asks this, as if he knew where my head was at before I did. “You claiming her?”

Claiming a woman is a big fucking deal in our world. It means Lucy would have club protection, but it also makes me responsible for any shit she pulls. The sensible part of my brain wonders if there is any truth to Titch’s words, believes there could be, knows it’s likely considering the evidence. The arsehole part that wants her doesn’t want to listen and refuses to.

“Said she was mine, didn’t I?” I say without missing a beat.

My chest should feel heavy. Claiming a woman isn’t a small thing, but instead I feel like a weight has been taken off my shoulders. This feels righteous. This feels like where I’m supposed to be in my life. I don’t understand it. Really, I hardly know Lucy, but there’s no denying the connection between us. There’s no denying we have a special chemistry I’ve never experienced before with any other woman.

Rav stares at me a beat.

“I get why you’d make her yours, saw it coming. I like the girl. She took care of Sasha and Lily-May for years, but until we get to the bottom of this, I don’t want to bring her into the club.”

“Me neither,” Titch agrees.

“I don’t want to take sides,” Day says, “but I want to know more before we vote on this shit.”

My jaw clenches as betrayal turns my saliva to ash. “What the fuck?”

“He’s right,” Fury says, speaking for the first time. “Need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“We’re dealing with a woman who went over and above to keep your old lady safe,” I point a finger at Rav. “I’m claiming her. Don’t give a shit if the club likes it or not. She’s mine.”

“If she was the target of this attack—”

“She’s not, and if you can’t take her word, take mine—your fucking brother,” I snap. Everyone looks away, making the anger turn to lava as it pumps around my veins. “Club doesn’t want to help, fine. I’ll fix this my fucking self.”

I kick my upturned chair and storm from the room, rage billowing through me. I stop briefly to grab my phone, keys and wallet, my anger boiling over. My brothers have never not had my back before, so this feels foreign. I don’t like it.

Lucy isn’t the enemy here. She’s a fucking victim, and she’s getting my protection, whether my brothers want me to or not.

17

Lucy

My mind is a jumble as I try to work out what else I’m going to need to make my escape. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Nox or Sasha, but I have to. The time has come. I can’t delay any longer.

Fear makes me edgy, my heart racing in my chest as I stuff my packed holdall under the bed. As soon as the clubhouse quietens down for the night and the prospect comes off the gate to man the bar, I’ll leave. I just have to keep my head down until then. My gut fills with bile. Doing this will hurt the people I love, but what choice do I have?

I call Sasha for the last time. We talk for an hour, my jaw aching as we laugh about random shit no one else would probably find funny. Leaving her is going to hurt, knowing I’m betraying her hurts more. It’s on the tip of my tongue several times in the conversation to tell her my secrets, to come clean, but fear of what might happen to her, to me, if the truth is out keeps my mouth firmly shut. She would have to tell Ravage, and fuck knows what would happen then. I can’t see the club letting me walk out of here in one piece.

When I’m finished talking to Sasha, I let my tears flow, let go of the emotions I’m holding behind the dam wall. This is too hard, but it has to be done. What choice is there? As I sit there, I let my anger, my rage for Isaac grow. I hate him for putting me in this position, for not letting me go when I want to. I hate him for keeping me trapped like a caged animal.

My hate is pointless, though. A waste of energy. It won’t change what has to happen.

A fist pounds on the door, and I jolt back. My first thought is do they know, but if they did, would they bother knocking? These men don’t strike me as people who knock on their enemies’ doors.

Slowly, I get to my feet and move to the door, wipe moist palms on my jeans. When I reach for the handle, I try not to freak out, but my hands are trembling. I twist the knob and pull it open, revealing Nox. His shoulders are sagged, his demeanour on edge.