BOUND TO THE OUTLAW ALPHAS

The Name She Feared

Tessa Calloway had just told me not to trust Jude, and somehow that was the part of her warning I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Not the missing ledger. Not the threat against my garage. Not even her claim that she knew what happened on Blackridge Road.

Jude.

I stared at the call log, then at the name written in my father’s notebook. Tessa had sounded frightened, but fear didn’t make a person honest. It only made them desperate.

I called the number back, but it went straight to voicemail. I saved it as TESSA—CALL BACK and photographed Dad’s notebook page again.

Then I called Nia.

She answered on the fourth ring. “Tell me you haven’t confronted anybody.”

“I haven’t.”

“That pause makes me nervous.”

“I received a call from a woman who says she knows what happened on Blackridge Road.”

Nia’s tone changed. “Who is she?”

“Tessa Calloway.”

“Do you know her?”

“No. Her name was written in my father’s notebook, beside a phone number.”

“Did she say why she was calling?”

“She wanted to know if I was still alive. Then she told me not to go to the police station or the clubhouse, and not to tell Jude.”

Nia was silent for a moment.

“Did she explain why?”

“No. The call ended.”

“Did you record it?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“That’s all right. Write down exactly what you remember while it’s fresh. Don’t embellish it, and don’t decide what it means yet. Keep the original notebook somewhere secure. Send me photographs of the page, but don’t hand the book to anyone.”

“I already photographed it.”

“Good. And Mara? Don’t go looking for this woman alone.”

“I haven’t decided what I’m doing.”

“You sound like you’ve decided.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I want answers. That’s all.”

“Then get them without making yourself easier to threaten.”

After we ended the call, I wrote down what I remembered: the number, the warning, and the way Tessa’s voice had broken when she asked whether I was alive.

I was still writing when someone knocked on the garage’s front door.

Three sharp taps.

I froze.

The person outside knocked again.

I moved away from the window and checked the security monitor. Jude stood on the step, hands visible, his expression unusually serious.

Of course.

I considered ignoring him. But if Tessa was right to fear him, I needed to understand why.

I unlocked the door but kept the chain in place.

Jude looked at it, then at me. “That’s welcoming.”

“It’s a new feature. Helps keep out people who arrive without warning.”

“You gave me the address.”

“That isn’t the same as an invitation to walk in whenever you like.”

His expression shifted. The joke left his face.

“You’re right. I should’ve called first.”

“What do you need?”

“Knox asked me to check whether the garage was secure. I told him I could ask you instead of sending somebody to peer through your windows.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I have my moments.”

I watched him through the gap. “Did you tell Knox about Tessa?”

His brow furrowed. “Who?”

It looked like a genuine reaction. Looked like it. I was beginning to hate how often I had to question what my eyes told me.

“Tessa Calloway.”

“Should I know that name?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out.”

I closed the door, removed the chain, and opened it wider. I didn’t step aside until Jude waited for me to invite him in.

He noticed. He didn’t comment.

Inside, his gaze moved over the workbench, the notebook, and the photographs spread across the counter.

“Another break-in?”

“No. Just me trying to understand what my father left behind.”

He stopped near the counter without touching anything. “Can I ask what you’ve found?”

“You can ask.”

“And you’ll tell me?”

“That depends on the question.”

He gave me a tired half-smile. “Fair.”

I picked up the notebook and turned it so he could see the initials beside the phone number. I covered the number with my thumb.

“Do you know a Tessa Calloway?”

Jude stared at the name.

For a second, he looked as if I’d struck him.

Then he reached for the edge of the counter, steadying himself.

“Where did you get that?”

“My father’s notebook.”

“How long has it been there?”

“I don’t know. The entry is old.”

He looked at me. “Did she contact you?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes narrowed, not with anger but with worry. “Mara, if she called you, I need to know she’s safe.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my sister.”

The room seemed to lose its air.

I lowered my hand from the page.

“Your sister?”

“Yes.”

“You told me nothing about having a sister.”

“You never asked.”

“That’s your defence?”

“No.” He swallowed. “It’s the truth. We don’t talk much anymore.”

“Why would she tell me not to tell you she called?”

Pain crossed his expression before he could hide it.

“Because she doesn’t trust me.”

“Should she?”

He looked down.

“I don’t know.”

That answer unsettled me more than a denial would have.

“What happened between you?”

“She got into trouble with people who offered her money when she needed it. The debt grew. The people collecting it started making threats. I tried to help, but I handled it badly.”

“How?”

“I thought I could fix it without telling her what I was doing. I spoke to people I shouldn’t have trusted. She found out and believed I’d made things worse.”

“Did you?”

His silence stretched.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I did.”

“What does her debt have to do with Blackridge Road?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard her mention that name.”

“But she knew to call me.”

“Then someone must have told her about you. Or she found your number herself.”

“You’re guessing.”

“I know.”

He didn’t move closer. He didn’t ask to see the notebook. For once, Jude’s usual charm had nowhere to hide.

I could understand why Tessa might not trust him. Good intentions didn’t erase the damage caused by bad decisions.

“Did you ever hear her mention my father?” I asked.

“No.”

“Mercer Hale?”

Jude’s eyes lifted sharply. “Why would she know Hale?”

“So you do know something.”

“I know Hale had influence over people who owed the club money. I don’t know whether he was involved in Tessa’s debt.”

My stomach tightened.

“That would’ve been useful information earlier.”

“I didn’t know your father was connected to her. I didn’t know you’d find her name.”

“Did you know Hale was connected to Blackridge?”

“I knew people stopped asking questions after the incident. That’s all I can honestly tell you.”

I closed the notebook.

“I won’t show you the number. I won’t tell you what she said on the phone. Not until I know why she was afraid of you.”

Jude nodded slowly. It seemed to cost him something.

“That’s fair.”

“You won’t follow me if I look for her.”

“I won’t follow you.”

“And you won’t tell Knox where I’m going.”

His jaw tightened. “If I think you’re walking into danger, I may have to tell him you’re at risk.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know.” He looked straight at me. “I won’t share your plans behind your back. But I won’t promise to pretend I don’t care if someone is about to hurt you.”

I wanted to be angry with him. It would’ve been simpler. But a mistake and its consequences didn’t make him trustworthy—or make him a monster.

“Then start by telling me everything you remember about the people who threatened your sister,” I said.

Jude drew a slow breath.

“One of them used to wear a silver ring with a split vulture stamped into it.”

My skin prickled.

The Iron Vultures used a vulture-and-broken-chain emblem. I’d seen it on Knox’s jacket and on the patches worn by the men who came to my garage.

“Was he a club member?”

“I don’t know. He was around the clubhouse, but I never saw him ride with us.”

“What was his name?”

“Harlan Pike.”

I stared at Jude.

Harlan. The club officer who had disappeared.

Jude looked sick. “I didn’t know he was connected to Blackridge.”

“Or to Tessa?”

“No. I swear it.”

I believed that he was frightened. I didn’t yet know whether I believed anything else.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

A message from an unknown number.

TESSA ISN’T THE ONLY CALLOWAY WHO KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED. ASK JUDE WHY HE KEPT THE RING.

I slowly turned the screen toward him.

Jude read it.

All the colour drained from his face.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small cloth pouch.

“I was going to tell her,” he whispered.

He opened it.

Inside lay a silver ring stamped with a split vulture.

And on its inner surface, scratched into the metal, were two words:

BLACKRIDGE WITNESS.