Page 84 of Obliterate

“There’s so many movin’ parts to this. Things happenin’ in the background that have the potential to be catastrophic for Defiance, not just NOLA, but every chapter. Plus, this Bratva bullshit, and now our women are hurt… I need to fuckin’ focus. I gotta sit and think this through. I can’t fuck this up, Ingrid, for the sake of my brothers.”

His face scrunches, his fingers running through his hair in his frustration, a single bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He’s stressed. He’s struggling. And I need to step in and help him the only way I know how.

Reaching out, I take his hands in mine and look him in the eyes. “Lynx, look at me…” His shocked eyes meet mine. I hardly ever call him by his real name, only when I desperately need to get his attention, and I think now is that time. “When your father was the president of this club, he faced challenges every day. He struggled with the weight that responsibility carried. The burden on his shoulders. Being a president is fucking hard. You havesomany lives you need to take into consideration. But Lynx, your father would beastronomicallyproud of the man, the father, the husband, and the president you have become. Darling, Reaper ran things with an iron fist. He was hard but fair, and he taught you to be the same.”

I bring my hand up, caressing his bearded cheek. “I see so much of your father in you, and that issucha good thing because Reaper was a great man. But Lynx… you are even better than he was. Don’t let the heaviness of everything that is happening cloud your judgment. Youwillmake the right call, no matter what the situation is. I have every faith in you because you’re the legacy of Reaper.” I let out a small laugh. “And we all know his drunk ass is looking down on you, helping guide you through this.”

His lips turn up in the faintest of smiles, his eyes dropping away from mine. I don’t know the depths of what’s going on with him and the club. The ins and outs of all the club business, but I know whatever it is, it must be big for him to be all out of sorts like this. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. “Hurricane, you will make the best choice you can. You are one person, and you can only do so much. Do what’s right for your family and club. Everyone else can sort their own shit out.”

He closes his eyes tight like he’s relieved to hear me say that. “Thanks, Ingrid. I needed to hear someone’s thinkin’ the same way as me for once.”

“No matter what, darling. I am always on your side.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that because I need you to move into the clubhouse for a while. Until I can figure out what we’re doin’ with this Bratva bullshit. I can’t risk you bein’ out there on your own and havin’ Anton come after you again. I gotta know you’re safe with us.”

Staying at the clubhouse has never been an issue.

And normally, it wouldn’t be.

But there are a couple of extenuating circumstances.

One—South and I are a thing. And trying to keep that under wraps while living together, surrounded by everyone, will be increasingly difficult.

Two—I have my lumpectomy surgery.

How the hell am I going to explain that to Hurricane and Bayou?

But right now, I know he needs this.

He needs to be able to see me.

To know that I am safe.

So I will give him this.

The rest, I will have to work out as we go.

Holy fuck!

CHAPTER TWENTY

South

It’s been a hell of a day, and as everyone is settling back into the clubhouse, I can’t help but notice Ingrid sticking around.My overwhelming need to talk to her runs through my veins like poison invading my system, making it increasingly harder to fucking concentrate.

As she sits by the bar, drinking with Frankie and Izzy, I can’t stop staring at her, probably making myself obvious. Suddenly, City slides into the seat beside me, finally pulling my attention from the strawberry-blonde who is quickly stealing my heart.

I turn to City and raise my beer his way. “Cheers, brother. Guess we’re headed for a fight soon.”

City chuckles, clinking his glass to mine. “Oh, brother, I think you’re in for a bigger fight than the one we’ve got with the Bratva.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, lowering my drink to the table.

He chuckles. “I saw you and Ingrid at the hospital today. IfI’mseeing it, there’s only a matter of time before Hurricane and Bayou pick up on the chemistry between the two of you.”

Groaning, I run my hand through my hair. “Fuck.”

“Mmm… fuck.” City nods, taking another sip of his beer.

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