Cruz:
She didn’t say a word as we rode down from the overlook, arms tight around my waist, her body pressed to my back like she was tethering herself to something solid.
Like I was the ground beneath her feet.
I’d take that—hell, I’d carry it proudly—but every mile closer to home twisted something inside me tighter. Because as much as I wanted her with me, now that she was really in this, I couldn’t lie to myself about what that meant.
She belonged to me.
And now?
She belonged to the club, too.
Not as some stray I’d brought around. Not a passing thing. But as a piece of my world. A piece of me. And that came with consequences no patch or promise could protect her from.
It was different when I kept her in the periphery. Behind locked doors. On the outskirts of the fire. I could shie
