Page 48 of All's Fair in Love & Chaos
“He doesn’t?”
“No one. We aren’t close. He’d protect me with his life; he values me and is happy for Reid. But he doesn’t let me in. Rhys-er-Sin? Different story. He’s one of my best friends. Wrath is the biggest sweetheart, even if he has some kinks you’ll need to get used to seeing. Even Malice is easier to get through to than their president. Chaos suffered loss, too, Saige. A deep one.”
My head snaps back like she punched me.
“He didn’t tell you.” Not a question. My heart plummets down to the pit of my stomach. “Doesn’t surprise me. I only know because he lost someone the same day Reid did. Go easy on him. Even if he isn’t it for you, just let our family be.”
“Family?”
“Like I said when we met, yeah, a family. That’s what we are, Saige. It may be unconventional, you may not understand it, but evil doesn’t lie here within these walls. They may do some questionable things, but they all have huge hearts. We take care of each other. Chaos most of all.”
Her words string together like puzzle pieces snapping into place, and I replay them over and over again in my head.
A family.
Chapter Eighteen
CAMDEN
Itake a seat at the head of the table, running my handsalong the fine grain of the wood, before looking at each of my men. I can rest a little easier knowing Saige is here and safe, but that doesn’t take away the rapidly growing threat against her just outside our gates.
“Any updates?”
“Since Pestilence was murdered, his VP took his spot. Diesel is now the new president of their shit show, and word is, he’s out for blood.”
“Wes found the identity of the Willow Killer. It’s only a matter of time before everyone else does, too, if they haven’t already.”
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Sin asks, the other men in the room looking at me with wide eyes.
“It is. Saige is the Willow Killer.” There’s a collection of whistles and “holy shits,” and then the room descends into silenceonce more.
“If he knows the Willow Killer is a woman? I hate to say the rules flip, but they do. Torture methods become a helluva lot crueler. I don’t want to know what they’d do to her, Prez,” Wrath says with a bit more of an edge than I’m used to from him, but I feel good about his concern.
“No one’s getting their hands on her. Not as long as I’m breathing.”
“Say you’re not, what then? She’s not your old lady; rules are she doesn’t get the protection of the club.” I know Sin isn’t wrong, and last year, I had to have this same conversation with Rogue about Kinsey. Sin usually isn’t this hard, but I know he can sense my distraction and has stepped up to keep me thinking clearly and the club running smoothly.
There are rules in place for a reason. A brother isn’t going to put his life on the line to protect a woman who hasn’t vowed herself to one of us. Becoming an old lady, to wear a property patch? I’d argue it’s as serious, if not more so, than marriage.
I can’t even get her to give me a real smile, and with her independence, she’s not going to want to be the property of anyone, least of all me.
“I’ll keep her safe,” Rogue’s voice breaks through the turmoil in my head, strong and steady, just like he always is. “You have my word, property patch or not, she’s your queen, I’ll make sure she’s safe if something happens to you.”
“So will I,” Malice speaks up.
“Me too,” Wrath adds.
Sin, Noose, and Rolo look at me, and I don’t expect a thing from them but what they’re already doing.
“You can count on me, Prez. I got you,” Noose says after a moment. I nod in thanks, trying to search for words.
“I love you, Chaos. And this club. But I’ve got Morgan to think about, and if she’s not property . . .” his sentence hangs between us, but I’m quick to put it to rest.
“Your decision is the one I would make for you. The club and Morgan are always your priorities. Same goes for Kinsey. We’re not going to widow these two women. Not if I can help it. Now, let’s figure this shi?—”
“I don’t agree with it, you know I don’t, but I wouldn’t stand idly by and watch them take her. I’d die for you, Chaos, which means I’d die for her, too.” His voice is low and strong, and my eyes flick up to meet his. Sin and I go way, way back, from the moment Queenie took me in and made me a prospect. “He’d be proud of you, Chaos. I know he’s looking down.” And I know he’s talking about the man who raised me. Queenie took in two lost, confused, starving, skinny-ass kids with bad attitudes and made us men. Losing him still hurts, even if he died the only way he would have wanted to: defending those who can’t defend themselves, and on the back of his bike, no less. I nod at Sin, trying to push down the emotion attempting to claw its way forward.
“Back to business. We’ve got our info. Now, enough with only being on the defense, how do we bring these assholes to their knees and show them what it looks like when they fuck with a Heathen?”
