Page 36 of Ginger

Up close, the fear in her eyes was more pronounced—not fear of us, but fearforus. For what might happen. For what we might do in her name. For what we might become. I reached out and took her hand, feeling the delicate bones beneath my callused fingers. Her skin was soft despite everything she'd been through, despite every hardness life had tried to teach her.

Her gaze locked with mine—eyes that had seen too much pain for someone so young. Something primal rose in me every time I looked at her. Protect. Claim. Keep. I'd never felt that before, not with any other woman. But Ginger was different. She'd crawled under my skin and made a home there.

The clubhouse faded away—the brothers, Vegas, the weight of what was coming—until there was just her and me, connected by our joined hands and locked gaze. I could feel her pulse fluttering beneath my fingers, a hummingbird trapped in a cage of bone and flesh.

"Things are going to get violent and bloody, darlin'," I told her, my voice low and intense, meant only for her ears though I knew every man in that silent room could hear me. The truth deserved to be spoken plainly. She deserved that much. "But when it's over, when we've dealt with every last threat..."

I squeezed her hand tightly, feeling her squeeze back with surprising strength. The gesture sent heat through my veins, pride that despite everything, she wasn't broken. Bent, maybe. Scarred, definitely. But never broken.

"You'll be truly free," I promised. "No more looking over your shoulder, no more running. Just you, me, Reno, and the open road ahead."

At the mention of Reno, a ghost of a smile touched her lips. She glanced across the room at him, and he gave her a nod.

"I never wanted this," she whispered, so softly I almost missed it. "Never wanted to bring war to your doorstep."

I reached up with my free hand and touched her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm. "War's what we do best, Ginger. And this one? This one's personal."

Her gaze searched mine, looking for something—reassurance, maybe, or doubt. I gave her neither, only the truth as I knew it: that every man in this room was already committed to blood and vengeance on her behalf. That wheels were already in motion that couldn't be stopped. That peace would come, but only after a reckoning.

"Vegas means what he says," I continued, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "Clean slate. By the time we're done, there won't be a man alive who remembers your name with anything but fear. Anyone who ever hurt you, anyone who ever threatened you—they're already dead. They just don't know it yet."

A tear slipped down her cheek, catching on my thumb. I wiped it away gently, even as my heart hardened further. Her tears were sacred things, not to be wasted on men who deserved only contempt and suffering.

"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice breaking on the words. "Not for me. For you. For all of you."

Behind me, I heard the shifting of leather and denim as the brothers absorbed her words. This woman—this beautiful, broken, fierce woman—was worried about a room full of killers and outlaws. The irony wasn't lost on any of us.

"Fear's good," I told her. "Fear keeps you sharp. But trust is better. Do you trust me, Ginger?"

The question hung between us, heavier than it had any right to be. We both knew I was asking for more than simple faith. I was asking her to accept what was coming, to let us do what needed doing, to embrace the darkness that lived in all of us.

She swallowed hard, and I watched the movement of her throat, remembering how it felt beneath my lips in quieter moments. "With my life," she finally answered.

I nodded once, feeling something tight in my chest loosen just a fraction. "Then believe me when I tell you that Rayburn, your uncle, those men who came to the clubhouse and wanted you—they're just men. Flesh and bone that breaks like anyone else's. And we—" I glanced around at the brothers, at Vegas’ steady gaze, at the promise of violence in every set of eyes that met mine, "—we're something else entirely."

I felt the weight of what we were about to face, the risk to us all. But it was distant, muted beneath the certainty that her freedom—her peace—was worth every drop of blood we'd shed, every risk we'd take. Some things demanded payment in blood. Some debts could only be settled one way.

And Ginger? She was worth it all.

I rose to my feet, still holding her hand. "Come on," I said gently. "Let's get you settled for the night. Tomorrow's going to come early, and you need rest."

As I led her through the clubhouse toward the back hallway and the staircase, I felt Vegas’ hand on my shoulder, stopping me briefly. His voice was pitched low, for my ears alone.

"Clean slate," he repeated, the words carrying the weight of an order, a blessing, and a promise all at once. "No loose ends."

I nodded once, meeting his gaze. "No loose ends," I agreed.

I caught Ginger watching us, her eyes wide and knowing. She understood what wasn't being said. She knew what price would be paid for her freedom. And in that moment, I saw something shift behind her eyes—acceptance, resolution, and beneath it all, a darkness that matched our own.

She'd be free when this was over. We all would, one way or another. Reno came up, joining us. We went up the stairs together, needing some time to ourselves.

The hallway stretched before us, dim and quiet compared to the charged atmosphere of the main room. The soft yellow light cast shadows that danced against the walls as we moved. Ginger's hand was still in mine, her grip tightening as we approached our suite. I could feel the slight tremble in her fingers, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside her.

Reno moved ahead, his broad shoulders blocking the narrow passage as he unlocked the door. The familiar click of the mechanism echoed in the silence. He pushed it open, stepping inside to flip on the lamp rather than the harsh overhead light. The soft glow spilled into the hallway, golden and inviting.

"Home sweet home," he muttered, his voice gravel-rough but gentle in a way reserved only for us.

I guided Ginger inside, feeling her hesitate at the threshold. "You okay?" I asked, studying her face in the soft light.

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