Page 24 of Blade's Princess

"Sophie." Blade's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts like a blade through fog.

I turn to find him in the doorway, filling the frame with his massive presence. His expression is controlled, but I can see the tension in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. The sight of him sends equal measures of relief and fear coursing through me.

"They won't take you," he says, the words simple but carrying the weight of an unbreakable promise. Each syllable is carved in stone, absolute.

He crosses the kitchen in three long strides and pulls me against his chest. His heartbeat is steady and strong against my ear, his arms like steel bands around me. I burrow into his warmth, drawing strength from his certainty, inhaling his now-familiar scent.

"I'm scared.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.

"I know, princess." His hand cups the back of my head, cradling me protectively. His fingers thread through my hair in gentle, soothing strokes. “But I'm here. I got you. And I promise you, you never have to go back to that house."

Ghost appears in the doorway, his expression grim. There's a dangerous edge to his movements. “They have a welfare check order," he informs us. "Margaret Whitmore has reported her niece missing and potentially kidnapped." His dark eyes meet mine. "They don't have a warrant, but they do need to confirm you're here of your own free will."

My stomach drops like I'm on a roller coaster, that horrible weightless feeling of freefall. "What if they don't believe me?"

"They will," Blade says firmly, though I feel how his body has tensed further. His muscles are coiled tight, ready to spring into action if necessary.

"We need to let them in," Ghost continues. "Show we have nothing to hide. They just need to see Sophie, talk to her briefly."

Ghost locks eyes with Blade. The unspoken message between them raises goosebumps on my arms.

It's decided that only Ghost and Blade will be present when the officers come in. Angel gives me a quick hug before retreating to find the club whores and ensure they stay out of sight since, according to her, their presence always complicates things.

Blade keeps his arm around me as we walk to the main room of the clubhouse. His touch grounds me, steadies my nerves. I lean into his strength, trying to absorb some of his certainty. The clubhouse feels suddenly different now—no longer a sanctuary, but a fortress preparing for siege.

Blade keeps me pressed against his side as Ghost goes to signal the prospects at the gate to let the police in. "You're an adult. You're here by choice. You're safe,” he reminds me.

I nod, working to control my breathing as the front door opens. My heart hammers so hard I worry they'll hear it, interpret my fear incorrectly.

Two officers enter—one older with salt-and-pepper hair and a weathered face creased with experience, the other younger with a clean-shaven jaw and alert eyes that scan the room with professional assessment. Both wear expressions of cautious neutrality, hands resting near their weapons but not on them.

"Officers,” Ghost greets them formally. He doesn't offer his hand, and neither do the cops.

“I’m Detective Wilson," the older one introduces himself. "This is Officer Reed. We're here about a missing personsreport filed by Margaret Whitmore regarding her niece, Sophie Bennett."

All eyes turn to me. I unconsciously press closer to Blade's side, his solid presence the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.

"I'm Sophie," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "And I'm not missing. I’m not a runaway. I’m here by choice."

Detective Wilson studies me, his eyes lingering on the fading bruise around my eye, the healing split in my lip. Something flickers across his face—a flash of what looks like disgust.

"Mrs. Whitmore informs us you were taken against your will by members of this motorcycle club. She's very concerned for your safety."

A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it, the sound harsh and unfamiliar to my own ears. “That’s not true. And she doesn’t care about me. She's concerned about her free labor being gone." The words carry years of repressed anger.

The detective's eyebrow raises slightly, and he exchanges a quick glance with Officer Reed. "Would you mind speaking with us privately, Miss Bennett?"

"Yes," Blade says immediately, his arm tightening around me. "She would mind."

"That's not your decision to make, sir.” Officer Reed’s hand moves subtly closer to his weapon. The tension in the room ratchets up several notches.

"It's okay," I tell Blade, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palm. "I'll talk to them. But I want to stay where I can see you."

Reluctantly, Blade releases me, stepping back just far enough to give the illusion of privacy while remaining within sight. The tension radiating from him is almost palpable, a living thing coiled and ready to strike.

The detective guides me to a nearby table, taking a seat across from me while Officer Reed remains standing, positioned with a clear view of both Blade and Ghost. The younger officer's fingers tap restlessly against his holster, his eyes constantly moving between us all.

"Sophie," Detective Wilson begins, his tone gentler now. "Can you tell me how you came to be here?"

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