Page 28 of Siren's Salvation

I can always tell if she’s bullshitting me straight to my face.

It’s kind of hard to do that through text, though.

I throw on my jeans and a fresh T-shirt, then shrug into my cut.

The familiar weight of the leather settles on my shoulders, a second skin that carries the loyalty I have to the club.

As I make my way downstairs, I can't help but continue to admire the craftsmanship of this place.

The wood paneling, the sturdy banisters, the attention to detail in every corner— it's a far cry from the cookie-cutter modulars back in Vegas.

I remember seeing a few houses like this last night on our ride in.

"Took you long enough, princess," Cobra's gruff voice greets me as I hit the bottom step.

He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

I flip him off casually. "Some of us like to smell nice in the morning, asshole."

Kade chuckles from his spot by the door. "So, what's for breakfast? I'm starving enough to eat a horse."

"Well, lucky for you," I drawl, "I don't think horse is on the menu. Though with Cobra's cooking, you never know."

Cobra aims a mock punch at my arm. "Watch it, smartass. I'll have you know my horse tartare is legendary."

Kade rolls his eyes, but there's a grin on his face. "Octavia and a couple of the ladies made a spread over at the clubhouse. Buffet style."

My stomach growls at the thought. "Now you're talkin’. Lead the way."

As we head out, I can't help but think how different this is from our usual mornings back in Vegas.

There's a sense of... I don't know, permanence here.

Like these people have put down roots deeper than we have.

I wonder if we'll ever have that back home.

Granted, the Montana charter has been around for a lot longer than Vegas and Mexico.

I’m sure in time things will change there too.

Right now, all I want is a plate piled high with whatever Octavia's cooked up.

And maybe to see if I can steal some of Cobra's bacon when he's not looking.

I love messing around with that fucker.

As we push through the clubhouse doors, I'm hit with a wall of noise and energy.

Kids are everywhere, their shrieks and laughter echoing off the walls.

It's like walking into a damn circus.

I wonder how many migraines are in this room right now, because I’ll guarantee I’m going to have one within the hour.

I arch an eyebrow at Kade. "Shouldn't these little hellions be in school?"

Kade shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face. "These ones are too young for school. The older kids are there, but with the amount of snow that's still comin'," He trails off, glancing out the window. "I doubt they'll be in class tomorrow. They're saying two to three feet."

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