Page 85 of Lamb

“Simple as that.” Lamb puffed out his chest. The pride and certainty on his face had the laughter rippling harder as I struggled to climb the stairs into the clubroom. This man had just investigated a dark abyss and decided to get a shovel and fill it up, one scoop at a time.

“You really are an idiot,” I laughed, feeling my strength wasting through humour and disbelief.

A small smile pulled at Lamb’s lips, but that same keen curiosity was sharp in his eyes, waiting patiently until I calmed. Certain that I had not lost my mind—not fully, anyway—he pushed open the door, and the noise of the clubroom rebounded down the hallway.

It was loud, as it had always been, full of life, and noise, and energy. Even down the long hall, the vibrancy slammed into me. I had not paid it much attention as we had been shuffled in. The room had been nearly vacant, but now I knew the people I had once cast aside, cold and cruel, were right here. It was suffocating. I had felt outcasted when I had been in the club, but I knew it had been my choice. This time, however, it was different.

We walked in silence back towards the clubroom, and the closer I got to the main hall, the wooden boards beneath my feet turned into a plank, and the resounding noise became the waves of the ocean. I had not noticed I had slowed until I felt the small tug of my hand as Lamb’s fingers pulled on mine.

He paused, staring at me, and even though I was aware my feet were dragging, I could not get them to move any further.

“I would like to say you don’t have to but—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “I must do this. Like ripping off a plaster, right?”

Lamb looked over to the room, to the huge pride of lions ready to eat me alive, and when he looked back at me, his face was a mask of innocence.

Liar.

With a deep breath, I crossed the threshold.

Silence descended like a snuffed-out candle. The noise and life lost in a whisper of smoke. Cold faces and icy glares turned towards me, and the blizzard bit into my bones.

I had not expected an excited welcome, but an Artic storm was beyond my prediction.

“Well, glad to see everyone is happy to see me,” I grumbled beneath my breath. Even Lamb was giving our audience an uncertain stare.

“I—”

“Church!” Wolf bellowed from across the room. “All members. Now.”

I had been so startled by the frozen wasteland of the club that I had not even spotted the nearly seven-foot Russian hanging out by the other end of the room. He bracketed himself in the other doorway, the one that led to the office and, more importantly, the clubroom.

He gazed across the room, barely landing on Lamb and me, before disappearing into the dark hallway.

An obedient army, one by one, the brothers got up and headed to their clubroom. Some were more obvious about their looks of distrust, disgust, and disapproval my way; some going as far as adding pointed gestures and glares as they went on their merry way.

Lamb’s face said little as he looked at me, but the context and situation said enough.

“Go,” I sighed. “I’ll be fine. I just need to find a stiff drink.”

Brown eyes hardened, and even if his face was unchanging, a burning rush rippled beneath my skin.

“I am kidding,” I huffed, giving him a light shove of his arm. The small use of strength exerted me more than I would like to admit, and having his hawking eyes hanging over me the entire time was not helping. I was weak, but I was not fragile. “Go. Before we get in any more trouble.”

Lamb’s lingering gaze slid across my body, cataloguing all the information he could attain before he allowed his fingers to slip from mine. The cold raced over my skin as I tucked the limp limb towards my chest.

“Hurry back,” I said quietly so he would not hear, but as his back turned to me and he walked away, a part of me wished I had said it louder.

Lamb vanished from my sight, the glimpse of his blond hair disappearing down the hallway, and all too soon, I was alone.

Cold flooded in, prickling and poking at my skin. For a long moment, I stared at the empty doorway, trying not to let it reach too deeply. But I could not stand there all day, and the longer I waited, the worse it would get.

Not waiting for the unlikely event that someone would approach me first, I lifted my chin, pulled back my shoulders, and strode across to the bar.

I was okay.

I repeated the mantra in my head as I lifted myself up onto one of the bar stools, the soft, worn cushioned seat welcoming me. Out of everywhere in this clubhouse, this had been the one spot where I had discovered comfort and solidarity. What I had not been able to accept from others, I found at the bottom of my whiskey glass, one after another.

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