Page 12 of Hatter

“Life with the Underland MC?” He tilted his head, considering. “It’s like riding a bike. You get thrown, you get back on. And we’re all about loyalty here. You’ll see.”

“Or I’ll get thrown again,” I said, my fingers tracing the edge of the blanket, grounding myself in its rough texture.

“Only one way to find out.” Cheshire’s smile widened just a fraction, a dare hidden in the curve of his lips. “Stick around. Let us prove it to you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Prove it. Two simple words, heavy with promise or threat -- I couldn’t tell which. But as March’s silhouette receded from the doorway, leaving me alone with Cheshire and his cryptic assurances, I realized that despite my reservations, part of me wanted to take that leap. Wanted to believe in something again.

“Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Everyone has a choice, Jo.” Cheshire leaned back against the wall, the mischief in his eyes replaced by something harder, more resolute. “Question is, what are you willing to risk for it?”

Risk. As I met his gaze, something like understanding -- or maybe recognition -- passed through those sharp depths. Maybe, just maybe, we weren’t so different after all.

I heard a floorboard creak and watched the doorway. Absolem. I remembered seeing him last night. His gaze swept over me, sharp yet somehow soothing. He crossed the room with purpose, each step measured and deliberate.

“Let’s have a look at those bandages,” he said, voice and hands steady as he reached for me. There was no hesitation in his touch, only the precision of someone who knew exactly what needed to be done. I flinched, not out of fear, but from the dull throb that radiated from my injuries. Absolem noticed, pausing for a fraction of a second before continuing his examination.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though his gaze never left the task at hand. He unwrapped, inspected, then rewrapped. His motions were methodical, calming the chaos that had taken root inside me since this nightmare began. He produced a small bottle of pills from his pocket, shook out two, and he offered them to me along with a glass of water. “For the pain.”

“Thanks,” I managed, my throat dry. I hadn’t taken note of the label on the bottle. The pills looked harmless enough -- tiny white promises of relief -- but everything came with a price.

In the background, Rabbit paced like a caged animal. His fingers danced over the surface of a pen, clicking it incessantly. Notebook clutched in his other hand, he scribbled something down every few seconds, then scratched it out, and started over. Restlessness poured off him in waves, and I could feel his eyes flick to me, then away, too fast to read the emotion behind them.

I wasn’t sure why everyone felt the need to come see me. It wasn’t like I was someone special. Just a stray they’d picked up off the street. I didn’t understand why they seemed to want me to get to know all of them. Sure, Hatter had said I was family now, but in my experience, family wasn’t exactly forever. Did they plan on me being here for a while?

“Easy, Rabbit,” Absolem said without turning, his voice low but carrying. “She’s in good hands.”

Rabbit nodded, seemingly more to himself than anyone else, and resumed his fidgeting. The pen click, click, clicked -- almost like a Morse code of nerves. I wondered what would happen if he ever snapped. He seemed completely at odds with the other men here. I wasn’t sure how he fit with this group.

“Can’t sit still,” Rabbit mumbled, almost to himself. “Too much to do, too much at stake.”

“Focus on now,” Absolem replied, finishing up with my bandages. “She needs calm.”

“Right. Calm,” Rabbit echoed, but his body told another story.

I swallowed the pills, the water chasing away the dryness but not the unease. Underland MC -- a family, they claimed. But families could be twisted, bound by blood spilled rather than shared. And I was stuck in their world.

“Rest,” Absolem instructed, standing back to assess his work. “You’ll need your strength.”

“Strength for what?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze met mine, and I found an echo of the same wariness that I felt.

“Whatever comes next,” he finally said.

They both left, and once I was alone, fatigue pulled at me. It wasn’t long before I’d dozed off again.

* * *

The room’s dim light seeped through my closed lids, and the ache in my body made me groan.

“Need anything?” Absolem’s voice cut through the haze. He stood by the bed, arms crossed, his eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows.

“Water,” I croaked, my throat barren. “Thanks… for all this.”

“Hydration’s important.” He handed me a glass, the cold liquid a small mercy on my lips. “Anything else?”

I wanted to say answers but bit back the response. Trust didn’t flow easily. It had to be earned, and I was in no position to demand anything.

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