Page 61 of Dagger

The words send a thrill through me, and I meet his thrusts, my body moving in perfect sync with his. The tension builds higher and higher.

“Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

His words are a command, raw and possessive, and they send a bolt of electricity through me. The tension coiled tightly in my belly spirals higher as I meet his thrusts, my body moving instinctively with his.

“I’m yours,” I murmur, my voice trembling with pleasure. “I’ve always been yours.”

The instant the words leave my lips, the coil inside me snaps, and I fall over the edge. My body trembles beneath him as waves of pleasure crash over me, leaving me gasping.

He thrusts into me a few more times, his movements growing erratic, before he stills, groaning deeply as he finds his release. His body shudders above mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that makes me feel complete.

He collapses beside me, pulling me close as we catch our breath. His hand rests on my belly, his thumb brushing gently over the curve there. The intimacy of the moment makes my chest tighten, and I place my hand over his, threading our fingers together.

Suddenly, his hand jolts slightly, and he freezes. “Was that… the baby?” he asks, his voice filled with wonder.

I smile softly, pressing his hand back to my belly. “Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s our baby.”

He looks at me, his expression a mix of awe and emotion, and leans down to kiss me again, this time slow and tender. In this moment, everything feels right.

TWENTY-TWO

DAGGER

The clubhouse is buzzingwith tension, the kind that makes your skin prickle. The kind that tells you something big is about to go down. I sit at the corner of the bar, my fingers drumming against the scarred wood, listening as Mason, Sledge, and Hawk pour over a map spread across the counter. Their voices are low but urgent, every word dripping with intent.

“We’ve got a tip,” Mason growls, stabbing a finger at a point on the map. “The Russians are moving tonight. They’re hitting the docks again, and this time, they’re bringing backup. They’re not just looking to steal; they’re looking to take us out of the game completely.”

Hawk leans in, his sharp eyes scanning the layout. “How reliable is the tip?”

“It came from one of Benny’s guys,” Mason replies, referring to our usual informant in the port. “He’s never steered us wrong before.”

“And he’s sure it’s happening tonight?” I ask, my voice cutting through the chatter.

Mason looks up, meeting my eyes. “Dead sure. We’ve got one shot to stop this, Dagger. If we don’t, they’ll cripple us.”

I nod, my jaw tightening. The Russians have been testing our patience for weeks, pushing boundaries, making moves they shouldn’t be making. This attack isn’t just another petty power play—it’s a declaration of war. And I’ll be damned if I let them take what’s ours without a fight.

Mason straightens, his eyes scanning the room. “We’ve got to send a message tonight. One they won’t forget. We hit them hard, and we hit them fast. Sledge, Hawk, you’ll take the north side of the docks. Dagger, you’re with me. We’ll cover the south.”

Sledge grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Finally, some action.”

Hawk gives a curt nod, already pulling on his jacket. “What’s the play?”

“We set a trap,” Mason says, his voice hard. “Benny’s guy says they’re moving the stolen goods through the storage units near Pier eleven. We’ll corner them there and take back what’s ours.”

I glance toward the kitchen, where Chloe, Jenny, and Sophie are sitting with Beast. Chloe’s laughing softly, holding the pup as he gnaws on a toy. She doesn’t know what’s about to go down, and I intend to keep it that way. She’s got enough to worry about without this hanging over her.

“What about the clubhouse?” Jax asks from the corner. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. “If this goes south, they might try to hit us here.”

Mason nods. “Piston and Tank, you’re staying behind. Lock the place down. No one gets in or out unless it’s us.”

Piston grunts his agreement, already checking the clip on his pistol. “No one’s touching this place on my watch.”

“Alright, boys,” Mason says, his voice rising. “Gear up. We roll out in twenty.”

The room erupts into motion, everyone moving with purpose. I head to the back, grabbing my cut and slipping it on. The weight of the leather feels like a second skin, familiar and steady. My pistol goes into the holster on my hip, and I check my blade, making sure it’s secure.

Chloe appears in the doorway, her arms crossed, her eyes sharp and questioning. “What’s going on?”

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