Page 66 of Sacrifice
"Worried about me?"
"Don't let it go to your head." Another kiss. "Text me after?"
"Yeah."
I watch her go inside, watch the prospects take their positions.
It's not enough—I want to wrap her in bubble wrap, lock her in my loft where nothing can touch her.
But that's not who she is.
She needs her independence, even now.
Especially now.
The ride to the clubhouse is quick, my mind already shifting to club business.
The parking lot's full—everyone's here.
News about Elfe spread fast.
Inside, the mood is dark.
Brothers drink coffee in silence, anger simmering just below the surface.
Elfe's one of ours—Ivar's oldest daughter, raised in this clubhouse.
You don't touch our women without consequences.
"How's your girl?" Magnus asks, approaching with his own coffee.
I sigh, "Safe. Pissed. Ready for blood."
He nods, "Sounds about right. Starla's at the hospital. Won't leave Elfe's side."
"Can't blame her."
"Ivar's ready to go to war. Never seen him like this."
"His daughter's in the hospital. I'd be the same."
"You already are," Magnus comments. "Can see it in your eyes. Someone touched yours."
"Not for long," I promise.
"Kirkja," Runes calls, and we file into the chapel.
The room fills quickly.
Officers at the table, patched members lining the walls.
"We all know why we're here," Runes begins. "Someone came at us through our women. Put Elfe in the hospital. Threatened Saga. This cannot stand."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room.
Someone pounds the table—Rio always ready to shed blood.
"What do we know?" Runes asks the table.
