Page 60 of Thunder's Reckoning
That got the room’s attention. Mystic’s jaw tightened, his eyes colder than steel. “She’s what four or five. Kids make shit up. You sure she wasn’t imaginin’?”
I shook my head. “She was terrified. That wasn’t imagination. Someone was out there. Someone who knew her name.”
The table went quiet, heavier than before.
Gearhead broke it. “Which means one of two things. Either Gabrial’s already got eyes this close, or somebody else is playin’ his game.”
“Either way,” Devil said, his eyes hard, “this just went from a favor to a warfront.”
Hunter tried again, voice crackin’. “I didn’t see anyone, I swear. If there was somebody out there—”
“Stop talkin’,” Devil snapped, just sharp enough to cut him down. Then he leaned back, fingers steepled. “If Gabrial knows where she is, he won’t stop at whispering in the woods. He’ll burn his way straight to our front door.”
That picture sat in the room like blood spilled across the table.
Mystic shifted, finally speakin’ again. “So what’s the move?”
Devil looked at me, eyes red in the low light. “You brought her into our world, Thunder. You stand by her now. But understand, if Lopez wants her back, he’s coming with everything he’s got. That makes this all of ours. That makes it personal.”
I felt the weight of it, heavy and final, but I didn’t flinch. “Then let him come.”
Chain leaned forward, grinnin’ like a wolf. “Shit. It hasn’t been that long since our last blood fight. But I’m sure as hell ready for another.”
Nobody laughed. Not this time.
Devil’s voice cut through, final as a gavel. “From here on, she doesn’t leave that clubhouse without one of us. No exceptions. Hunter, you breathe wrong around her again, you’ll wish Lopez got to you first. Are we clear?”
“Yes, prez,” Hunter muttered, his voice strangled.
Devil stood, chair scraping. “Church dismissed. But listen close, we’re sittin’ on a powder keg. Lopez wants his flame back? He’ll bleed for it. Question is, how much are we ready to bleed to keep her?”
The table stayed quiet. No one answered out loud. But I already knew mine.
As much as it took.
***
I FOUND HERstandin’ beneath one of the big oaks out back, leanin’ against the trunk like she was part of it, arms crossed, shoulders tight, her face tipped up to the night sky like she was hopin’ the stars might whisper some damn truth she could hold onto.
She didn’t hear me at first, and I didn’t say a word right away. Just stood there a moment, lettin’ the quiet stretch while I watched her. Barefoot in the grass, hair spillin’ down her back like silk, that guarded stillness wrapped ‘round her like a shield. She looked like she was waitin’ for somethin’ to hit her, and bracin’ herself to take it without flinchin’.
“I was wonderin’ where you’d gone off to,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice soft—not too gentle, but not hard either. She’d been sheltered too damn much in her life by folks who still managed to break her anyway. She didn’t need another soft lie. She needed somethin’ real.
Her voice was quiet when it came, steady but raw like it’d scraped its way up from someplace deep. “I needed to breathe.”
I stepped in a little closer, slow and careful not to crowd her, lettin’ her feel the space still belonged to her. “Yeah,” I murmured, noddin’. “I get that more’n you know.”
Truth was, I hadn’t come out here lookin’ to talk or drag her back inside. I just needed to see her. Needed to know she was still holdin’ herself together in that way she did—tight and quiet, like if she let go, everything might come crashin’ down around her.
“I didn’t mean to disappear,” she said after a long pause, her voice almost lost in the night.
“You didn’t,” I told her, meetin’ her eyes as she turned toward me. “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”
She faced me fully then, the porch light catchin’ her cheek just enough to throw shadows across her face, but not enough to hide the weariness there. She looked like a woman who’d finally stopped runnin’ but still didn’t know how to stand still without feelin’ like she was sinkin’.
“You think bringing us here was the right move?” she asked, hesitatin’ just a breath.
“I think it was a damn good one,” I said, no room for doubt in my tone. “Still do. And I’ll stand on that, no matter who’s askin’.”
