The metal wallsof the cargo container house feel smaller than they did earlier. Knowing it’s his actual home, not some crash pad or rental somehow makes this feel … more intimate. The hum of the air conditioner, muffled by the thick steel structure mutes the world outside, but inside, it's just me and Damian.
He’s got this quiet intensity about him, like a caged animal that isn’t pacing just yet—but could, at any moment. He’s sitting in a chair, leaned back like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but I see the way his fingers tap against his thigh, the way his eyes flick to me every few seconds. This is a man with a lot on his mind.
I should be terrified. I should be trying to find a way out of here, but my gut tells me he’s not the one I need to run from. Maybe it’s the way he’s kept his distance, giving me space. Or maybe it’s the way he’s watching me now, like he’s trying to figure out what to do with me.
“So, you live in a box,” I say finally, breaking the silence.
“Home is where the heart is or some shit, right?” Damian’s lips twitch. “It’s got a bed, a shower, and a fridge full of beer. That’s more than most.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the small counter. “No TV? No Xbox?”
He smirks. “I get my entertainment elsewhere.”
I roll my eyes, but before I can ask whatelsewheremeans, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Damian is up before I can blink, moving with that smooth, almost lazy confidence, but I can tell he’s alert. His hand rests at his waist as he unlatches the door opening it wide.
Riot steps inside like he owns the place, humid air and cigarette smoke clinging to him. His eyes flick to me before he looks at Damian. “Konstantin wants proof of life.”
My stomach knots at the name. My grandfather. The man who apparently has more secrets than I can imagine. Why didn’t I ask questions before? Why have I never paid attention to his associates? In Florida, he owned a diner. When my grandmother got sick, we came here. I didn’t ask questions when his schedule changed. It wasn’t until I was out on my own that I realized exactly what The Velvet Hall is and what it’s not is a diner.
“What’s proof of life to my grandfather?” I whisper not understanding how they seem to have this direct line to him. I know the Kings of Anarchy have a hand in everything in town, my grandfather has always said that, but this somehow feels like they have a more complex relationship.
Damian doesn’t react much, just tilts his head. “So send him a picture.”
Riot shakes his head. “He wants a meet with you. Soon.” His gaze moves back to me, assessing. “Not sure if he’s expecting a picture or an in person visit. She looks better than I expected. Thought you’d have roughed her up by now.”
My spine stiffens, but I don’t get a chance to snap at him before Damian speaks.
“Why would I do that?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.
Riot just shrugs. “Rough sex, brother, calm the fuck down. I can see she’s different. You’re no threat to her.”
“Riot,” he warns. “Ain’t like that and you fuckin’ know it.”
“Yet,” Riot replies with a smirk.
“Ledger, cut the shit,” Damian warns and I wonder why he called Riot Ledger. I store this away for another chat time to ask Damian about it.
“Whatever.” Riot comes back but doesn’t press Damian. “Gonna give him the meet or what?”
“Make the fuckin’ call. In an hour, Velvet Hall. He has some things he needs to share with his granddaughter any way.”
Riot pulls out his phone before glancing over to me. “We’ll need her looking presentable.” The two men who share similar facial features exchange a look. I guess he really is Damian’s actual brother like he said. It’s like they share some unspoken language between each other, only they understand.
Damian nods, and Riot makes a call. I don’t know who he’s talking to, but a few words later, he hangs up. “Clothes are on the way. I’ll set the meet.”
I shift uncomfortably, wrapping my arms around myself. I hadn’t thought about how I must look. My jeans are dirty, my tank top stretched and rumpled from hours of pacing when I was in here alone, and now being held in a metal box by a biker who hasn’t decided what to do with me yet.
Riot leaves without another word, and Damian turns to me, studying me.
“What do you mean clothes are on the way?”
“Just what he said, we called got some clothes coming for you.”
Everything is this easy taken care of, handled, way with them. “You called him Ledger? Earlier, you said he’s your actual brother. I’m a little confused.”
Damian smiles his teeth so straight and white. “Every man whose earned the Kings patch is a brother. Riot is Ledger Legion Masters, my only biological sibling. When he gets testy, I need to remind him what we share goes beyond a patch.”
“I’m an only child. But I have a feeling you already know this.”