Page 17 of Blade

"That's the idea," Blade confirmed.

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

She frowned. "What am I supposed to do all day? Just sit here and... what? Twiddle my thumbs?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead, truthfully. "There are books. TV. Internet, though I'd prefer if you stayed off social media."

"I don't have any of my things," she pointed out. "My clothes, my—" She cut herself off, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Your what?" he prompted.

She looked away. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Rule three, baby girl," he reminded her. "Honesty."

The blush deepened at the nickname. "My... little things," she admitted finally, voice barely audible. "Coloring books. Stuffed animals. Things that help me... you know."

"Regress," he supplied, understanding dawning. "You need your little space."

She nodded, still not looking at him, clearly embarrassed.

"I can get you those things," he said simply.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. "You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's weird," she said. "Adult women playing with stuffed animals and coloring books. Most people think it's strange."

"I'm not most people," Blade pointed out. "And there's nothing weird about needing a safe space to let go. Especially after what you've been through."

She bit her lip. "Most guys find it off-putting. Too much responsibility. Too many needs."

Blade snorted. "Most guys are weak. They don't understand what it means to take care of something precious." This protective instinct she brought out in him went beyond his duties to the club, beyond the job he'd been assigned. It was personal. Primal.

Dangerous.

He needed to get his head on straight. Set some boundaries. Remember that she was vulnerable, traumatized, and in his care. Taking advantage of that would make him no better than the bastards who'd hurt her. He’d give her space and time to feel safe with him. No doubt, she was his. His little girl. But, he wouldn’t force himself on her.

"I have some more calls I need to make," he said, pulling away from her reluctantly.

She nodded, drawing the blanket back around herself. "Okay."

Blade stood, needing some space to clear his head. "You good here for a bit? Need anything before I make some calls?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just... let me know if you hear anything?"

"I will," he promised with a small smile of reassurance.

He moved to the kitchen, giving himself some distance while still keeping her in his line of sight. As he pulled out his phone to call Lucky and ask him to get together a care package from the storage closet at the Clubhouse, a text came through from a number he didn't recognize.

Unknown: Tell the little bitch we're coming for her. No one betrays the Rejects and lives.

Ice slid down Blade's spine. He kept his expression neutral, not wanting to alarm Lily, but internally, he was on high alert. How the fuck had they gotten his number? Only his inner circle had this number.

Which meant the mole was higher up than they'd thought, well connected or good with technology.

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