Page 126 of All Our Ghosts

“I’m not going anywhere, Holden. I’m in this with you, even more so now than ever.” My fingers find his own as I slide his hand over my stomach. A silent reassurance that my world is now his, that we belong together and that it was us against it. “Do you love me?”

“More than you know,” he says, dipping his head to kiss me again, his fingers digging into the softness of my belly.

I smile against his mouth. “I love you too.”

Wyatt looked terrified when we climbed into the tow truck. His hands were glued to the steering wheel and he hadn't once taken his eyes off of the road as we drove to the town's general market. Even while we were in the store he seemed distracted. Stuck to my side and carrying the basket for me, but distracted.

The ride back is no different. It's driving me mad that the normally chipper and light-hearted West seems on edge.

"Okay, spill." I finally break the tension filling the cab and switch off the radio. "What the hell did Holden say to you?"

Wyatt's brown eyes flicker over to mine briefly before looking back at the road. I watch his hands curl over the steering wheel again. The leather whining under his white knuckles. "He didn't say anything."

"Bullshit." I laugh. "Wyatt, you're acting like someone put the fear of God into you."

He groans in that boyish way that makes me remember just how young he still is. One of the youngest prospects the Hounds have and still more of a member than most. "It wasn't Holden, okay?"

That shocks me. I raise a brow and turn towards him in the seat waiting for him to finish.

"It was Blake," he grumbles.

My brows shoot to my hairline as I try to stifle a laugh. “Blake?” I fail instantly to hold back my laughter.

Wyatt frowns and glances over at me. “She told me that if I didn’t bring you back safely and stay stuck to you like glue then she’d burn my entire comic book collection.” His eyes have turned back to the road, but the disdain in his voice is evident.

I chuckle and shake my head. My heart is full and warm at Blake’s use of Holden’s words.

“Sounds like an expensive collection,” I say gently with a grin glancing over at him. The smile beams across his cheeks as he nods.

“It really is, I’ve been collecting them for years.” Wyatt rambles on for the next few minutes as we make our way through a stretch of road that sits between the main part of town and the clubhouse. I smile to myself as he talks about something he loves so much. There isn’t a weight on either of our shoulders as he explains the differences between Marvel and DC to me.

We're just about to the clubhouse when a siren sounds from behind us. Everything in my stomach drops when I look back and see a squad car trailing behind the truck.

"Fuck," Wyatt curses under his breath, shifting in his seat like he's debating on pulling over or racing back to the compound where we have defense in numbers.

I know how this works though. If he stops we have a chance of getting by on our own, but if he keeps going all hell will break loose and the fight the club has been preparing for would show up on their doorstep unannounced. I'm not ready for that. Not with so much more on the line now.

My hand slides over my belly, holding my sweatshirt there in my fingers as I look back to Wyatt. "Pull over."

His head shoots to the side looking at me with wide eyes. "Kadence, I can't."

"Yes you can, Wyatt. It'll be worse if you don't." My voice is soft and pleading as he stares at me for another moment before shaking his head.

"This is a bad idea," He mutters, pulling the wheel to the right and stopping on the shoulder.

"I know," I whisper as the sirens shut off. We both sit in silence for what feels like hours until a tap rings against Wyatt's window. I look only to meet the beady blue eyes of Watson. A wicked grin is spread across his face.

Wyatt rolls the window down, shifting nervously again as he glares up at the man who destroyed their clubhouse a week ago. "What's the problem?"

"Get out of the truck, West," Watson says firmly, tugging on the door and pulling it open.

Wyatt glances back at me and, like a freight train, I realize we made the wrong decision. He climbs from the truck only for Watson to slam the door closed behind him causing me to jump. Within seconds Wyatt is thrown into the side of the cab, still standing upright but with Watson's hands around his neck. I see Watson lean in, whispering something harshly to Wyatt but I can't make out any words.

My heart hammers in my chest as I watch the two of them exchange words. Wyatt's brows knit together as he glances back at the truck, our eyes meeting through the back window. Hemouths something to me that looks an awfully lot likeI'm sorry, just before Watson lands a punch straight into Wyatt's gut. The kid keels over, coughing and tries to catch his breath and before I even know what I'm doing, I'm opening the door.

"Wyatt!" I yell, my heart aching with how hard it's thundering and my knees shaking. How the fuck am I going to stop this? My feet hit the gravel and as I look up my heart stops. Dark, dangerous brown eyes stare back at me. He looks older, worn down, and almost manic.

I back into the open door of the tow truck, cornering myself as his boots crunch in the gravel beneath him. Menacingly, taunting.

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