Page 11 of Siren's Salvation

As Noelle storms off, I'm left standing there, bottle in hand, caught between my role as a prospect and my empathy for these girls.

I can't help but wonder if I've done the right thing, or if I've just made enemies with the next generation of the club.

Davina clears her throat, her voice small and timid. "Am I in trouble?" she asks, eyes darting between Blackjack and me.

I can see the fear in her eyes, the way her hands tremble slightly at her sides.

Blackjack's stern expression softens a touch as he looks at the youngest girl. "I think you were just trying to be cool, sweetie," he says, his voice gentler than before. "Noelle and Aggie were the masterminds here, and I'm sure your Dad will think that too."

I watch as relief washes over Davina's face, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

It reminds me of my own teenage years, always trying to fit in, to be part of something.

I feel a pang of sympathy for her.

Aggie, on the other hand, lets out a grunt, crossing her arms defiantly.

She's clearly not as remorseful as her sister.

Blackjack turns his attention to her, his voice firm once again. "You should probably head back home too, young lady. I’ll be talkin’ to your folks shortly."

As Aggie skulks off, Davina looks around uncertainly. "Where should I go?" she asks, her voice small.

Blackjack smiles at her, nodding toward the clubhouse. "You can go back inside to the party. Keep bein’ good, kiddo."

I watch as Davina scurries away, leaving me alone with Blackjack.

The silence stretches between us for a moment, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.

I shift uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the half-smoked joint in my pocket.

God, I could use another hit right now.

Once Davina is out of earshot, Blackjack turns to me, his eyebrow raised.

"So, you were gonna keep their secret, huh?" Blackjack questions, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

His brown eyes bore into mine, just waiting for me to flap my jaws.

I meet his gaze evenly and shrug, struggling not to swallow hard and show him I’m nervous.

"They're just kids, Blackjack," I defend myself, trying to keep my voice steady. "Kids doing stupid things. You and I both know we've done worse."

He doesn't answer right away, instead choosing to study me for a moment.

His eyes flicker over my face, like he’s sizing me up.

It's as if he's weighing the validity of my words against what he knows about me—what he thinks he knows about me.

After a moment of silence that feels like an eternity, he finally speaks again. "That may be true," he concedes grudgingly.

He rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and cackles, “Guess we should start gettin’ used to these kids being rebels. Just didn’t think my girl would be one of ‘em.”

I can’t help but bark out in laughter at him.

He arches a brow, “Something funny, prospect?”

Licking my lips, I carefully choose my words. “She’s your kid, so she’s the VP’s kid. It’s just as bad as being a preacher’s daughter. They’re gonna rebel more than the rest because they know they can get away with more. Hell, any of the officer’s kids I’m sure are gonna be wild childs.”

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