Page 20 of Bolt's Flame

I caught up to Fiona just as she reached the side of the clubhouse. Her steps hurried, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to ward off some imaginary chill in the air—or maybe the chill from everything she’d just seen.

“Fiona!” I called out, my voice sounding rougher than I intended. She stopped but didn’t turn around. I could see her shoulders tense, her back straightening like she was bracing herself.

I walked up beside her, keeping my distance for a second before stepping closer. “You alright?”

She finally looked at me, her eyes wide and full of a mix of emotions. Disgust. Fear. Confusion. Hurt. It was all there, shining through those ever changing orbs.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, her voice shaking just enough that I knew she wasn’t as calm as she was trying to seem. “Is that what this place is? Is that what you men do?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. She’d seen the rougher side of things tonight, the side of the club that wasn’t all brotherhood and loyalty. She’d seen the part that was wild and untamed, the part that didn’t make sense to someone outside its circle.

“It’s... not always like that,” I said, though I knew that was only half-true. The outside club parties could get crazy dirty. But it wasn’t all bad. Not to me, anyway. I never got rough and just enjoyed sitting around the fire, talking, and getting drunk. Plus, Devil had a no sex policy in the common room, keeping the wilder stuff outside, so if it wasn’t your thing, then you didn’t have to see it.

Fiona let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Notalwayslike that? You looked pretty comfortable sitting there while it was happening. Those women all over you, just another night, huh?”

Her words stung more than they should have. I’d seen this scene a hundred times, but this was the first time it bothered me. Maybe because it bothered her, and she thought I was fucking those bitches. For reasons I continued to shove down, I didn’t want her thinking that.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Look, I get it. This isn’t your world. Your old man sheltered you from this side of the club. But you’ve got no right judging me.”

She shook her head again, her expression softening just a little. “You’re right, I don’t. I just thought that... that maybe... you were...” She fought for words, and I waited patiently, curious. “I just thought the men here were safe, you know... but it looked rough and... and it’s disappointing. You men using the women in such a rough way.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, at least something that would make sense to her. The club was my life. The roughness, the wildness—it was all I’d ever known. But she hadn’t been exposed to it, and I could see now that she didn’t understand.

But I couldn’t stand the thought of her walking away, thinking I would ever get rough with a woman. Thinking I didn’t care about how she felt.Thinking badly of me.

“It’s not like that, Fiona,” I said, my voice measured since I was starting to get a little angry. “I would never hurt a woman.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to figure out if she could believe me, and decided she couldn’t. “Not intentionally, maybe,” she whispered, almost to herself, but I caught those words, and it made me furious.

“Just because youchoseto marry an abusive asshole and stay with him forfive fucking yearsbefore leaving doesn’t mean we’re all alike,” I shot back, pissed off for more reasons than I cared to admit. “You were aweakwoman who had opportunities to leave, butyouchose to stay and get the shit beat out of you. Now every man’s at fault for your mistakes? Give me a fucking break!”

Her eyes widened in hurt, and I saw the tears appear in the moonlight, falling down her cheek. Finally, she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re right, Bolt. James always said everything was my fault, that I couldn’t do anything right, and I suppose that goes for leaving him, too.”

“Fiona...” I tried, but she had already walked away, the door slamming behind her.

After she left, I just stood there in the darkness, the sounds of the party fading behind me. I wanted to reach out to her, to say something that would fix whatever I had just broken between us, but I wasn’t sure how I would ever do that now.

Why the fuck did I say something so heartless?

Shit, you could still see the fading bruises on her face, making what I said ten times worse. But dammit,whydidn’t she leave? A part of me wanted that answer and was hoping she would give it to me. It was a question that had burned inside me since I was a kid.

CHAPTER TEN

THE SMELL OFfresh bread filled the kitchenas I worked the dough, kneading it with more force than necessary. My hands moved automatically, the familiar motions grounding me, but my mind wasn’t on baking.

It was on Bolt.

His words still played over and over in my head, sharp and stinging, even though I’d tried to shake them off.

The words cut deep, because I knew they were true,to a point, and Ihatedhim for acting like it was simple. Like it was something I could’ve just... fixed. As if leaving James was a choice I hadn’t thought about a million times and hadn’t tried to do those terrifying few times.

Ihatedthat I saw him with those two women; the jealousy had been instant, causing more of my anger than I cared to admit, but I couldn’t tell him that,no, I had been a fool and obviously wrong about our connection. Seeing and feeling things that didn’t exist because my mind needed escape that was the only answer.

I glanced up at Josie, who was working at the stove, his back to me as he tended something in a pan. The kitchen had become my safe space in the clubhouse, the place where I could escape from the loud, always crowded common room—and now Bolt. Josie had a calming presence, a way of making everything feel... normal, like the rest of the world didn’t matter. A kindred soul who escaped into the world of cooking.

But today, even the comfort of the kitchen couldn’t mute the hurt Bolt’s words had left behind. Last night I had run to my room and just cried, so hurt from his attack, an attack that seemed so personal.

“Your quiet today,” Josie said, glancing over his shoulder with a curious smile. “Everything okay?”

---