Page 33 of Drift
He hesitated like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just nodded and turned away, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I stood there for a moment, the silence pressing in before I closed the door and leaned back against it, squeezing my eyes shut. I wished Chance hadn’t left me alone. Or had at least given me a sign that he wanted to stay.
Opening my eyes again, I took in the room. It was furnished simply—just a neatly made bed, a dresser, a bedside table, and a small lamp casting warm light across the dark wood floors. It should’ve felt impersonal, but instead, the space felt like safety. As if it still held the echo of the man who’d just left.
I crawled under the blanket, exhaustion creeping in even though my mind refused to slow. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Ethan’s voice. Saw the fury in Chance’s. Felt the weight of everything that had changed tonight.
The clubhouse was quiet now, but I could still hear the faint rumble of bikes outside. And I didn’t feel quite so alone.
12
DRIFT
The clubhouse was silent except for the hum of the air-conditioning and the soft clink of a spoon in someone’s coffee cup in the kitchen.
I sat on one of the couches in the lounge with a mug of black coffee cooling between my palms. My eyes were fixed on the hallway that led to the guest rooms—more specifically, the one Alanna was behind.
I hadn’t slept. Didn’t bother trying.
I’d spent the night sprawled here, not far from her door, listening. Not for trouble, not exactly. Just…listening. As if I’d be able to hear the sound of her quiet breathing on the other side of her thick wooden door.
Now, the only thing I felt was the buzz of electricity under my skin. It wasn’t nerves. It was the same tension I got before a race—the kind that built in my gut and stayed coiled until the flag dropped.
The burn barrel outside still threw the faint scent of smoke through an open window. Leather and coffee floated in the air. The smells, the sounds, all of it was familiar. And still, everything felt off.
The front door opened and shut with a low thud. Kane’s boots crossed the room, his shadow sliding over the walls. I was surprised to see he looked rested, which meant he’d slept. Not a common occurrence with a one-year-old at home.
He stopped beside the couch, his green eyes cutting toward me. “You look like shit.”
I took a sip of my coffee and gave a short nod. “No argument here.”
His mouth twitched. “Get Alanna and meet me in my office.”
I didn’t move yet. “Something I should know first?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Jax has news. But you’ll want to hear it for yourself.”
That was all I needed. I stood and set my mug on the low coffee table. “Gimme five.”
The hallway was dim, with only sunlight creeping through the windows of the rooms that had open doors. My steps made no sound on the worn floorboards, my walk silent as a ghost. When I stopped outside her door, I didn’t hesitate and knocked once. “Alanna.”
There was a soft rustle, then the latch clicked. She cracked the door open, blinking up at me. Her hair was a mess of tangled waves, skin pale except for the faint flush on her cheeks. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes—a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans creased at the knees.
She looked small and tired but not broken. And so fucking beautiful it nearly took my breath away.
“You all right?” I asked, quietly.
She nodded, smoothing her hair with one hand. “Yeah. Just…still tired.”
“Yeah.” I tilted my head and brushed a finger along her chin. “It’s been a lot to deal with. Can’t blame you for being exhausted.”
Her eyes softened, and a small smile curved her lips. “Thanks.”
I nodded and dropped my hand before stepping back. “Kane wants to see us. Jax is on the call.”
Her eyes widened a little. “Now?”
“Now.”
