Page 7 of Dagger

She’s sitting near the back, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring out at nothing in particular. She looks younger than the rest, but there’s a strength in her that’s hard to miss. It’s not the kind of strength you show off—it’s the kind you earn the hard way, through grit and sacrifice.

Sophie told me about her. How Chloe had put herself in harm’s way to make sure Sophie could escape. She knew the risks, knew Sophie might never make it back, but she did it anyway. That kind of selflessness, that kind of courage—it’s rare.

Most people wouldn’t have done what Chloe did. They’d have folded under the pressure, clung to the smallest shred of safety they could find. But not her. She made a choice, knowing full well what it might cost her.

That’s badass.

As I watch her, I can’t help but feel a surge of respect. She’s been through hell and back, but there’s a fire in her eyes that hasn’t been extinguished. A spark that says she’s still here, still fighting, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

I push off the van and head toward the driver’s seat, forcing myself to look away. We’ve got a long night ahead, and there’s a lot to do. But something tells me Chloe’s not just another rescue. There’s more to her story, and I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time she’ll surprise me.

A month later

Sophie and Chloe are inseparable now, practically glued at the hip. Since the night we took down the men who trafficked Sophieand the other women, there’s been a noticeable change in them. It’s subtle, but it’s there. They seem a little freer, a little lighter, like a weight they’ve carried for too long has finally been lifted.

The haunted look in their eyes is fading, replaced by something that resembles hope. They don’t flinch at every loud noise anymore or glance over their shoulders like they’re being hunted. They’ve started to smile—real smiles that reach their eyes. It’s a reminder of why we fought so hard to make sure those bastards could never hurt anyone again.

Most of the women we rescued have been reunited with their families. The moment those reunions happened—mothers clinging to daughters, fathers crying, siblings hugging—it was like a piece of their humanity snapped back into place. It was powerful to witness, and it made all the blood and sweat worth it.

But Sophie and Chloe don’t have families to return to, not really. Sophie burned that bridge a long time ago, running from a home that didn’t care about her. And Chloe—well, the less said about her so-called family, the better. Perdition is all they’ve got now, and honestly, it feels like they belong here.

Sophie’s grown stronger, more sure of herself. She carries herself differently now, shoulders back, head held high. She’s still got a bit of an edge—she always will—but she’s also one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. She looks out for Chloe like an older sister, protective and loyal, and Chloe clings to that bond like it’s the only solid thing in her life.

Chloe, on the other hand, is effervescent and full of life. She’s always laughing, her joy bubbling over and filling every room she enters. Despite her past, she refuses to let it define her, rarely showing the weight she’s carried. She’s spirited, endlessly curious, and carries a spark that draws people in.

Together, they’re something special—a team, a force. And as they sit in the clubhouse, laughing at some joke only theyunderstand, it’s hard not to feel proud of how far they’ve come. They’re survivors, yes, but they’re also so much more than that.

For the first time in a long time, they’re living. Not just existing, butliving. And it’s damn good to see.

Chloe is sitting at the bar, laughing at something Sophie said, and for a moment, I can’t look away. She’s beautiful—her brown hair falling in soft waves, catching the light, her smile lighting up the room. But it’s her eyes that keep pulling me in. They’ve seen hell, and yet, there’s still a spark in them. She’s been through so much, but she hasn’t let it break her.

And she’s so damn young. Twenty.

I drag my gaze away, trying to focus on anything else. She could be my daughter, for Christ’s sake. Me, Dagger, the club’s resident manwhore, nearing forty. I’ve been with so many women, it’s laughable. None of them meant anything. None of them stayed.

There’s no world where I should even bethinkingabout Chloe like this.

I need to stay the hell away from her.

“Careful,” a low voice cuts in behind me.

I turn, already knowing who it is. Mason, the president of the Iron Reapers and my best friend, is leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are sharp as hell.

“What?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“You know what,” he says, his tone calm but heavy. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at Chloe.”

I stiffen, but Mason doesn’t let up.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Don’t even think about it, Dagger.”

I scoff, trying to brush him off. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am I?” he asks, his gaze like a blade. “She’s been through more than anyone should, and the last thing she needs is you messing with her head—or worse, her heart.”

I clench my jaw. “You think I’d hurt her?”

“I think you’d hurt her without meaning to,” Mason says. “You’ve got a reputation, brother. You know it, I know it,everyoneknows it. You get near her, and it’s not just me you’ll answer to.”

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