Page 23 of Haunted By the Storm
"It's me," Camryn's voice answers, equally soft. "Camryn."
I set the gun aside and open the door, finding her standing in the hallway in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks younger this way, more vulnerable.
"Everything okay?" I ask, suddenly very aware that I'm only wearing boxers.
She wraps her arms around herself, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just... I can't sleep, and I thought maybe..."
She trails off, and I wait, giving her space to find her words.
"I thought maybe you could tell me more about the security measures," she finally says, though I suspect that's not what she was going to ask originally. "Just so I know what to expect. For Emily's sake."
I nod, stepping back to let her in. "Give me a sec."
I grab a t-shirt from my dresser and pull it on, offering her the room's only chair while I sit on the edge of the bed.
"The compound has cameras covering every angle," I explain. "There are motion sensors along the perimeter and guards at all entrances twenty-four-seven. No one gets in without us knowing about it."
She nods, but I can tell she's only half-listening; her eyes darting around the room like she's looking for something.
"That's not really why you're here, is it?" I ask gently.
She meets my gaze then looks away quickly. "No," she admits. "I just... I didn't want to be alone. The storm's gone, but I still feel on edge. And I didn't want to wake Emily."
Something in my chest tightens at her honesty. "You can stay here for a bit, if you want," I offer. "We can talk, or just... be."
She offers a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
We sit in silence for a moment, but it's not uncomfortable. There's a strange ease between us that I can't explain, like we've known each other much longer than a day.
"Can I ask you something?" she finally says.
"Sure."
"When did you know you wanted to be part of the MC?"
It's not a question I was expecting. "I was eighteen," I tell her. "Felt like I was losing my way. I had a woman, but we were both too fucking young for how serious we were. I loved her, I did, but it wasn’t enough. The shit I’d witnessed even at that young of an age did damage. I pushed her away, hurt her in doing so. She didn’t have it in her to stay and I didn’t have it in me to fight. I needed something, something that would help me find a path. It didn’t take long ‘til I met Cruz. He was a patched member and he told me about the club. I came and hung around the clubhouse, did odd jobs. Felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life."
"Because of the brotherhood?"
"Partly," I say, considering my words carefully. "But also because they didn't try to change me. They didn't tell me I needed to be less angry or become someone I wasn’t. They saw my anger as an asset, not a problem."
She nods thoughtfully. "And is it? An asset?"
"In my line of work? Yeah. Controlled anger can be useful."
"And what about uncontrolled?" she asks, her eyes shrewd. "Is that why they call you Storm?"
I shift, uncomfortable with how perceptive she is. "Something like that."
She doesn't press, which I appreciate. Instead, she glances around my room again, taking in the sparse furnishings. Unlikesome of the brothers, I don't keep much personal stuff around. No photos, no mementos. Just the essentials.
"It's late," I say eventually. "You should try to sleep."
She sighs. "I know. I just... every time I close my eyes, I see him. Eric. Standing in that grocery store, telling me he's been watching us."
My jaw tightens. "He won't get near you or Emily again. I promise."
"You can't possibly promise that," she says, but there's no accusation in her tone, just weariness.
