Page 7 of King's Reckoning
King's eyes were cold. "Then she's not my daughter after all."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of prospect duties—cleaning, running errands, learning the rhythms of clubhouse life. Rowan felt eyes on her constantly, brothers watching to see if she'd slip up, reveal her true nature. She caught whispers, caught brothers studying her face and comparing it to old photos of King that hung on the walls.
It was near sunset when she finally got a break, collapsing onto a barstool as the night shift prospects took over. Her muscles ached from hours of physical labor, but she felt accomplished. She'd proven she could handle the work.
"Drink?"
She looked up to find Reed sliding a beer across the bar. He'd shed his cut in the summer heat, and his T-shirt clung to broad shoulders. Rowan forced herself to focus on the bottle instead of the way the fabric stretched across his chest.
"Prospects don't drink on duty," she quoted the rule her mother had taught her.
"Your shift's over." He leaned on the bar, studying her with those intense dark eyes. "You've earned it."
Rowan took the bottle but didn't drink. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Who says I'm being nice?" His smile held no warmth. "Maybe I just want you to let your guard down."
"Is that what King ordered? Keep the mysterious daughter close, figure out her angle?"
"King doesn't order me to do anything." Reed's voice was quiet. "I make my own choices about who to trust."
"And do you trust me?"
"Not even a little." He straightened up. "But I'm starting to think you might be worth the risk of getting to know."
Before Rowan could respond, an engine roared in the lot—multiple engines, getting closer. Reed was moving before the first shout went up.
"Devils! Coming in hot!"
Rowan was on her feet as gunfire erupted outside. Reed tossed her a shotgun from behind the bar. "Time to prove yourself, prospect. You ready?"
She checked the action with practiced ease. "Born ready."
His eyes met hers for a charged moment. Then they were moving, taking positions as more Devils poured into the lot. Rowan felt adrenaline surge through her veins as she sighted down the barrel.This wasn't how she'd planned to earn her place in the club, but she'd take what she could get.
After all, she was King's daughter. And blood would tell.
The first shot shattered the clubhouse window above Rowan's head, sending glass raining down like deadly stars. She moved without thinking, muscle memory taking over as she rolled behind the bar. Reed was already returning fire, his movements precise and controlled. This wasn't his first gunfight.
"Seven Devils," he called out, voice steady despite the chaos. "At least twelve, spread across the lot. They're trying to pin us down."
Rowan checked the shotgun's action, the familiar weight grounding her. Her mother's voice echoed in her head."In a firefight, baby, you've got two choices: be the predator or be the prey."
More Devils poured into the lot, their bikes roaring like angry beasts. Rowan counted multiple shooters taking positions behind vehicles. They were better organized than typical MC warfare.
This was a coordinated hit.
"Back door," she called to Reed. "They'll try to flank us."
He shot her a sharp look. "How do you know their tactics?"
"Same way I know that shotgun's loaded with buckshot instead of slugs," she replied, sighting down the barrel. "I do my homework."
Movement caught her eye—a Devil trying to edge around their position. Rowan squeezed the trigger, the shotgun's blast catching him in the leg. He went down screaming.
"Nice shot." Reed's approval was cut short by another volley of gunfire. "But we're still outnumbered."
Rowan was already moving, staying low as she worked her way toward the back hall. If she was right about their tactics, at least three Devils would be coming through there.
