Page 80 of Property of Legend

“Yeah?”I shove my way past him anyway.“She can tell me to my face.”

“She’s with our father.”James follows me up the stairs.“You remember him?The man who built all this while you were out running drugs for the Dixie mafia.”

I stop at the top, turn slow.“Dixie mafia?You tellin tall tales.”

“You’re into illegal shit.I’ve seen the evidence.”

“You gonna call the cops on me again, James?Like you did ten years ago?”

“I’m glad they locked you up.You would’ve ruined Sophies life.”

“You done spittin’ your judgment?Or you wanna throw a Bible verse at me too?”

He glares.“She said you left bruises on her.”

I freeze.“What?”

“Her wrists.Rope burns.You think you can play rough with a girl like Sophie and still get to be her hero?When dad dies, she’ll become one of the richest women in the state.She’s not some club whore, Legend.”

My mouth sets in a grim line.I think of the way I bound her hands.Not to hurt.To claim.The way she begged me to.But the image’s twisted now.Tarnished by his accusations.

“Don’t show your face around here again,” James says.

I shove the door open anyway.

And there she is.

Sophie.Sitting by the hospital bed, hand in her daddy’s.His eyes are open, alive, and full of a world I was never meant to belong to.

She looks up.And I know.Before she even says it.

“We can’t do this,” she says softly.“It won’t work.”

I step inside.“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”Her voice wavers.“I have to run the farm.Carry his name.Secure the future he sacrificed everything for.I can’t tie myself to a club that’s knee-deep in illegal deals.”

“Sophie…”

“What I found in your room…”

“I told you that was planted,” I say, not spilling our business in front of her father.

“You humiliated me,” she whispers, hard, fighting tears.“Tying me up.Claiming me in front of them like I was a prize in a damn bar fight.”

I flinch.That was supposed to be power.Not shame.

“Keep your bikers away from my property,” she says, voice shaking.“Please.”

I nod once.There ain’t no fight left in me.Not when she looks at me like that.Like she’s hurt.And I’m the one that hurt her.

I turn to go.

As I step outside, Sam Worthington’s on the porch, bouquet of flowers in his hand, fake charm in his smirk."For the old man," he says.

I don’t say a word.

I just walk back to my bike, fire her up, and ride away.

---