Emma
Nobody spoke.
The request originated inside Steele Custom Bikes.
I watched the warmth disappear from Jake’s face.
Across the table, Nash slowly stood.
“Lock the compound.”
Jake didn’t move.
“Jake?” Nash pressed.
“I heard you.”
His voice was frighteningly quiet.
Around us, the easy breakfast atmosphere vanished. Mack pulled off his ridiculous apron. Raven set down her coffee. Dutch reached for the radio clipped to his belt.
“No one leaves,” Jake ordered. “No phones outside this room. Shut down the shop network.”
“On it,” Sophia said, already opening her laptop.
I reached for Jake’s hand.
He pulled away.
Not harshly.
Almost automatically.
Then he stood and walked toward the garage.
“Jake.”
He kept going.
I followed.
The garage was cold compared with the clubhouse. M
