Page 11 of King's Reckoning
But Blackwood had one more card to play. "The Devils aren't the only ones with an interest in this land," he called as they led him away. "Ask your daughter about the others. Ask her what's really buried under your club!"
Rowan watched them load the prisoners into waiting vans, her mind racing. Her mother's warnings, the disturbed graves, the ancient structures under the club...it was all connected. All part of a secret Elena had died protecting.
"So," Reed's voice was soft beside her. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"
Rowan looked up at him, saw the mixture of suspicion and something else in his eyes. "Buy me a drink first?"
His lip quirked. "Prospects don't drink on duty."
"Good thing my shift ended when the shooting started."
This time his smile reached his eyes. "Clubhouse is going to need repairs after that attack this morning. Could use some help when we get back."
"Are you asking me to stay?"
"I'm saying you've proved yourself useful. In a fight. With a wrench." He paused. "Maybe in other ways too."
Heat bloomed in her chest. "Careful, Road Captain. People might think you're starting to trust me."
"Trust is earned," he said seriously. "But you're on your way." He glanced at King, who was deep in conversation with Dr. Beasley. "In more ways than one."
Rowan watched her father, saw how the other brothers responded to him. Saw the respect, the loyalty. The family she'd never had.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Maybe I am."
But as they prepared to head back to the clubhouse, Elena's final warning echoed in her mind."The past never stays buried, baby. And some secrets are worth dying to protect."
Rowan just hoped she was ready for what came next.
Glass crunched under Rowan's boots as she helped clear debris from the clubhouse floor. The Devils' attack had left the main room looking like a war zone—broken windows, bullet-riddled walls, overturned furniture everywhere. But it was the invisible damage that worried her most—the cracks in the club's security, the questions about what lay beneath their feet.
"That section's done," Reed called from across the room. He'd stripped down to a white T-shirt in the heat, and Rowan forced herself not to stare at the way the fabric clung to his shoulders. "Let's check the structural damage next."
They'd been working together since dawn, the pretense of prospect and Road Captain wearing thin with each passing hour. Every so often their hands would brush, or their eyes would meet, and that dangerous electricity would crackle between them.
"Watch your step," he warned as she picked her way through the rubble. "Floor's not stable here."
As if to prove his point, the floorboard under Rowan's foot shifted. She stumbled,and Reed's arm shot out to steady her. His hand was warm on her waist, fingers splayed against her ribs.
"Careful, prospect," he murmured, not letting go. "Wouldn't want you falling."
"Too late for that," she said softly, then caught herself. This wasn't why she was here. She couldn't afford distractions, no matter how tempting.
Reed's eyes darkened, but before he could respond, King's voice cut through the tension. "Need you both in the chapel. Now."
The club's meeting room had survived the attack mostly intact. Dr. Beasley was there, along with Darkness and several other high-ranking members. The ancient laptop she'd salvaged from her lab was open on the table, displaying ground-penetrating radar images.
"Show them," King ordered.
Beasley nodded, pulling up new scans. "These structures under the clubhouse, they're not random. They form a pattern, a kind of network spanning the entire property. And they're old. Centuries old."
"Native burial ground?" Darkness suggested.
"No." Beasley shook her head, her Czech accent becoming more pronounced with excitement. "This is something else. Look at the construction. These are man-made chambers, carefully engineered. And they're still intact."
"Which is why Blackwood wants the land," Reed said. "Whatever's down there is valuable enough to start a war over."
"Not just Blackwood." King's eyes found Rowan's. "Your mother knew about this. Knew enough that she kept you away for twenty-five years. Question is, what else did she tell you?"
