Chapter Seven - Eve
1136 Words
I couldn't stop staring at the envelope.
It sat on the table in front of me, worn and faded, the edges curling from years of
being hidden away. My father had protected it for almost twenty years.
People had just fired bullets at a motorcycle club because of it.
And according to Silas Mercer, someone had been hurting me since the day I was
born.
It didn't make sense.
None of it.
I wrapped my hands around the mug of coffee Dani had placed in front of me, trying
to stop them from shaking. The clubhouse had settled into an uneasy silence after
Cal's announcement. Men who had probably laughed in the face of danger a
hundred times were now checking windows, locking doors, and patrolling the
property.
Nobody trusted anyone.
Not anymore.
Because if Cal was right, one of them had opened the back gate.
One of them had invited those strangers in.
"You should drink that before it gets cold."
I looked up.
Dani slid into the chair across from me, tucking one leg underneath her. She looked
exhausted. The tough, confident woman who had greeted me outside was gone,
replaced by someone who was just as confused as I was.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For my brother."
I looked down at the coffee.
"He was trying to protect his family."
She let out a soft laugh.
"That's his problem. He thinks the whole world is his responsibility."
I wasn't sure what to say.
The truth was, I didn't hate Grim.
I probably should have.
He had looked at me like I was a liar before I had even spoken five words. He had
refused to let me see his father. He had almost kept me from delivering the letter
Dad had trusted me to protect.
But when the shooting started...
He had stepped in front of me.
He hadn't hesitated.
He hadn't even looked back.
I hated that my mind kept replaying that moment.
Dani watched me carefully.
"He's not a bad person."
I gave her a small, sad smile.
"I didn't say he was."
"No, but you're thinking it."
I looked towards the front windows where a couple of club members were replacing
the broken glass with plywood. Beyond them, rain still poured over the yard.
"I don't know what to think."
And that was the truth.
Three days ago, I thought I knew exactly who I was.
Thomas Cross's daughter.
A mechanic's kid from a tiny town.
A girl with a simple life.
Now I was sitting inside an outlaw motorcycle club while strangers waited in the
woods for me.
I didn't even know if my own name belonged to me anymore.
Dani reached across the table and gently touched the silver pendant around my
neck.
"It's beautiful."
I looked down at it.
"It was my mother's."
"You don't remember her?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Your father never told you anything?"
"Just that she loved me."
The words caught in my throat.
"He said she couldn't come home."
Dani looked away.
I had the strange feeling she knew exactly what that meant.
Before I could ask, the clubhouse door opened.
Every conversation stopped.
Grim walked in from outside, rain dripping from his leather coat. His dark hair was
soaked, and there was a fresh scrape across one side of his jaw.
He looked around the room before his eyes landed on me.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he walked over.
Dani stood up.
"If you're here to interrogate her again—"
"I'm not."
She crossed her arms.
"Could've fooled me."
Grim ignored her.
He looked at me instead.
"Are you okay?"
The question caught me completely off guard.
I blinked.
"What?"
"You almost got caught in the middle of a shootout."
His voice was rough, quieter than before.
"I asked if you're okay."
I didn't know how to answer.
Was I okay?
My father was dead.
A stranger had looked at me like he'd known me his entire life.
Someone was hurting me.
And apparently, I had walked into the middle of a war I didn't even understand.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because if I didn't laugh, I thought I might cry.
Grim's expression softened.
"I shouldn't have treated you the way I did."
Dani looked at him in surprise.
Honestly, so did I.
"You don't know me," I said quietly.
"No."
He glanced at the envelope.
"But I think my father does."
For the first time since I had arrived at Iron Crown, he didn't look at me with
suspicion.
He looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Like he wanted to understand.
It should have made me feel better.
Instead, it made my chest ache.
Because if things had been different...
If Dad hadn't died.
If I had come here a week earlier.
If Grim had looked at me this way the first time we met...
Maybe none of this would have happened.
A loud voice called from the hallway.
"Grim."
One of the older club members stood near the office door, waving him over.
Grim looked at me one last time.
"We're going to figure this out."
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But Dad had spent his final moments warning me not to trust anyone.
Don't trust the patch.
The memory made my stomach tighten.
Grim followed the older biker into a small office off the main room. The door didn't
close all the way, leaving it open just enough for their voices to drift into the hallway.
I didn't mean to listen.
I swear I didn't.
I stood to throw away my untouched coffee and took one step towards the kitchen.
Then I heard my name.
"...she can't stay here," the older biker whispered.
Grim answered too quietly for me to hear.
The other man spoke again.
"You know what happens if the brothers find out who she is."
My heart started pounding.
Grim said something.
I took another step closer.
The floorboards creaked beneath my boots.
I froze.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
The older biker lowered his voice.
"Silas should've told the truth years ago."
"And if he had?" Grim asked.
A long silence followed.
Then came the words that stole the air from my lungs.
"Then every member of Iron Crown would've known that the girl standing in our
clubhouse..." the man whispered, "...is the rightful heir to everything."
I stopped breathing.
The mug slipped from my fingers.
It shattered against the floor.
The voices inside the office stopped instantly.
The door swung open.
Grim stepped into the hallway.
His eyes met mine.
And from the look on his face...
He knew I'd heard every word.
- Writer
