Page 93 of Dublin Beast

“Hello, boys. I take it you’ve been keeping the streets safe in my absence?”

Drake laughs. “We did our damnedest.”

It’s nice of them to show their support. The Dublin Devils MC is loyalty carved in stone.

For a second, I let the warmth of it settle into my chest. Home. Blood. Brotherhood.

Then I glance back at Harper.

She stands on the edge of the ramp, observing with that journalistic intrigue of hers. She’s still pissed at me. Shoulders tense. Chin high. Eyes sharp.

She doesn’t want to be here and made that clear.

She also doesn’t have anywhere safer to go.

I walk back to her, fighting the urge to brush the windblown hair from her face. My touch is no longer welcome. She made that clear the moment we were free from Eddie Mason and safe.

Still, she’s here—that counts for something.

“Everyone, this is Harper.” I gesture to her and watch as everyone passes assessing gazes over her. My brothers looking doesn’t bother me, but the way Drake and the Devils eye her up and down has my beast pacing to the foreground. “She’s the one who found Siobhan.”

Harper stiffens. It’s a touchy subject, I know, but there’s no sense sweeping it under the rug. It’s the elephant in the room. She found Siobhan. And now Siobhan is dead. The only question now is how we move forward.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t pretend. Just stands her ground while a group of very dangerous men take her measure.

Tag is the one who steps forward first, offering his hand. “You helped Bryan. That means something to us.”

Harper shakes it, barely.

The rest follow with brief greetings, but no one presses. They sense it—her grief, her tension, the unsaid weight she’s carrying because of her part in Siobhan’s death.

We call it justice. But Harper? She calls it murder.

She doesn’t want their thanks or need their appreciation—she just wants to be gone.

Can’t say I blame her.

We wrap up quick. Tag peels off to hand the captain a fat envelope and pegs him with a look that saysdon’t ever speak of this again.

The man sails off without a backward glance.

The rest of us head toward the waiting vehicles. The Devils mount up and roar out first, bikes thundering into the darkness.

Kieran drops Harper’s duffel into the backseat of my Hilux, then claps me on the shoulder. “You driving her to the house?”

“Aye.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t saybe careful, but it’s there in the look.

I open the passenger door and wait.

Harper eyes me for a second too long, like she’s still deciding if getting in this truck with me is the lesser of all evils. Then she climbs in, wordless, and pulls the door shut.

I circle to the driver’s side, slide in, and start the engine. She keeps her eyes on the road ahead, not me.

“I told you I’ll keep you safe,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And I will. You’ll have the place to yourself. Stocked. Secure. You can come and go as you please.”

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