Page 18 of Atlas
“Who’s the brat?” Fletch mutters under his breath, nudging Grizz beside him.
Kasey hears—of course, she does—so she straightens her jacket, tosses her hair, and gives them both a slow, sugary smile. “Hi, uncles.”
Grizz nearly chokes on his smoke.
I nod towards the clubhouse doors. “Go inside. Left corridor. Find Axel. Don’t touch anything on the way.”
She rolls her eyes but obeys, hips swaying more than necessary. The kid’s exhausting.
I turn towards the others. “She’s under protection. Axel’ll explain the rest.”
“You sure about this?” Grizz mutters. “She looks like trouble.”
“Yeah,” I reply, watching her disappear through the door. “But she’s our trouble now.”
The guys fall silent. Because when you say that—ours—it means something.
Inside, the place smells like leather, beer, and testosterone. Kasey’s standing in the hallway, staring at a wall covered in framed photos and yellowed newspaper clippings. Some of the headlines are flattering. Most aren’t.
“Cozy,” she murmurs as I lead her through the common area to Axel’s office.
He’s already waiting, leaning back in his chair, phone to his ear. He ends the call and tosses it onto the desk, his eyes cutting to Kasey immediately.
“You’re smaller than I expected,” he says.
“Thanks,” she says dryly. “Most people open withhello.”
Axel smirks. “You’ll fit in just fine.”
He glances at me. “Ride okay?”
“Smooth. No tails.”
“Good. You’ve got two hours before Fury takes over. Thought you could use the rest.”
I nod but don’t move. “She stays in a guest room?” I ask.
Axel raises a brow. “Where else would she go?”
Kasey folds her arms. “You gonna frisk me for weapons, or do we pretend this is a sleepover?”
“She’s fine,” I mutter, already tired.
Axel watches her a beat longer then tosses me a key. “Room at the end of the hall on your floor. She’s under lockdown, but no handcuffs . . .unless she asks.”
Kasey grins. “Kinky.”
I groan and lead her out.
The room’s clean but bare. A twin bed, chest of drawers, a lamp with a broken shade. Nothing fancy, but it’s safe. And for Kasey, that’s something.
She perches on the edge of the bed, suddenly quieter. Almost . . . shy.
“Will it be like this every day?” she asks.
“What?”
“Being watched. Locked down. Treated like a liability.”
