Silas’s POV
It was just another long night.
Club business bled into the early hours—route talk, tension in the air so thick it clung to his skin. Jack was pacing, Brick was grinding his teeth, and Mason kept checking his watch.
Silas leaned back in his chair, thinking of Sage. Her legs, those eyes, and that smart-ass smirk when she caught him staring earlier while she mopped behind the bar.
She’d been different tonight. Dressed to kill—literally—and Silas could feel the edge in her. Like she was expecting trouble and daring it to come closer. That short skirt that hugged her hips just right… paired with a thigh holster?
He'd been distracted all damn night.
“One hour,” she told him with that knowing look. “Don’t make me come find you.”
He smirked at the memory and looked down at his
