Chapter 7 Cain’s Pov

“She’s feisty,” Grim commented, downing the rest of his liquor in one go before dropping the empty glass onto the counter.

“No, she’s just scared.”she corrected, pouring more liquor into Grim’s glass from behind the counter.

Ava Monroe was a mixture of both, I thought, absently running my fingers along the rim of my glass. 

There was a fragile side to Ava too, one that looked ready to shatter at any second. But that stubborn pride of hers made sure she never let it show.

“Hmm,” Grim grunted beside me, nudging my shoulder a little. “You still think you can make her stay?”

I said nothing. Not because I had nothing to say, but because for the first time in a long while… I was uncertain.

Ava Monroe had a way of leaving me clueless.

“We’ll see.” I replied, pushing myself off the stool.

“That woman’s gonna wear you out.” Grim warned. 

Mara smacked his hand on the counter. 

Grim shot her a look, “What? It’s the truth.”

I rolled my neck, glancing toward the hallway, “Let her.” I said, “I’ve dealt with worse than a stubborn woman with trust issues.”

Grim nodded agreeably.

I tapped Grim on his shoulder, moving across the room. Some of the guys had slept off on the chairs, their snores echoing through the room, “Get them out of here.” 

“I got it.” 

I left Grim to deal with the others and headed toward my room at the far end of the hallway.

The noise from the bar gradually faded behind me, replaced by the familiar silence that usually settled over the clubhouse this late at night.

I stepped inside my room, shutting the door behind me before shrugging out of my leather cut and tossing it over the chair in the corner.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I moved toward the closet, reaching for a clean shirt.

But my movements stilled.

Tucked between a pile of folded clothes sat an old photograph.

My jaw tightened immediately.

The edges were worn now, slightly bent from years of being shoved around carelessly, but the face staring back at me remained just as familiar.

Eli.

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring.

Same cocky grin. Same reckless confidence written all over his face like he believed he was untouchable.

I hated that picture.

Hated what it reminded me of.

Some memories had a way of rotting inside a man, refusing to let him forget.

I had spent years trying to bury that particular one.

Years carrying guilt I knew wasn’t ever leaving me.

My fingers curled around the frame before I shoved it deeper into the back of the closet, out of sight. Somewhere I didn’t have to look at it.

Although, it was out of sight, never out of mind.

I exhaled heavily, reaching for my shirt again when something made me freeze.

It was a faint sound at first, then it became clearer.

My brows furrowed.

It was coming from upstairs. I stood still for another second, listening carefully.

A quiet, broken whimper. Then crying.

Ava.

Without thinking, I grabbed the shirt I had tossed aside earlier and pulled it back over my head before stepping out into the hallway.

The wooden stairs creaked beneath my boots as I made my way upstairs, following the soft sound.

The closer I got, the clearer it became.

It wasn’t the kind of crying someone made when they were awake.

It sounded… restless. Disturbed. Like whatever demons were chasing her hadn’t stopped just because she’d fallen asleep.

It came for her in her dreams.

I stopped outside her door and reached for the handle.

It was locked.

A dry chuckle left my throat, I couldn’t exactly blame her.

Ava Monroe had every reason not to trust me, or anyone inside this place.

I rested my hand against the door for a second, listening as another muffled cry slipped from inside the room.

Something about the sound sat wrong in my chest.

And I didn’t fucking like it.

I stayed outside her door a few seconds longer, listening as another broken whimper slipped past the wood.

The sound sat heavily in my chest, stirring something I had spent years forcing down.

I clenched my jaw before finally stepping away.

There was nothing I could do standing there. Not while the damn door was locked.

Turning around, I headed back downstairs, my boots hitting each step harder than necessary.

The clubhouse had gone quiet now. Grim had done his job. The bar was empty, chairs pushed in carelessly, half-finished bottles still abandoned on the counter.

I ignored all of it and walked straight back into my room.

For a second, my eyes drifted toward the closet again. Toward the place I had shoved that photograph.

My expression hardened.

I crouched beside the bed, reaching for the spare duvet folded neatly beneath it before pulling it out in one sharp tug.

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

For years, I had lived with the weight of that night pressing down on me. I could remember the screams, the gunfire and the choices I had made.

And every damn day after that, I carried one truth I could never outrun.

Eli Monroe should’ve made it back.

Not me.

I gripped the duvet tighter in my fist.

Maybe that was why fate had dragged Ava Monroe straight into my bar. Out of every place she could’ve run to… she ended up here.

With me.

I didn’t believe in coincidences. Never had.

Maybe this was life’s twisted way of handing me one chance to make something right.

One chance to repay a debt I should’ve settled years ago.

Ava didn’t know who I was. But I knew exactly who she was the second she walked through those doors.

And maybe she never needed to know.

And I was planning on keeping things that way.

But I had made a promise to myself a long time ago.

If I ever found Eli’s little sister… I’d make sure nothing ever touched her.

Even if she hated me for it.

Even if keeping her close meant fighting her every step of the way.

I threw the duvet over my shoulder and headed back upstairs.

The crying from inside her room had quieted now, but I still stopped outside her door for a second, waiting if she’d make a sound again.

But she didn’t.

I opened the door to the room opposite hers, turning on the light. It wasn’t entirely tidy, but it was manageable.

This room was meant for patched members who needed a place to crash after late-night runs, fights that ended badly, or nights when the road home wasn’t worth the risk. Nobody cared much about keeping it clean, only that it served its purpose when needed.

I straightened the sheets before settling onto the bed, tossing the duvet over myself.

If anything happened tonight…If in case she needed help…I’d get to her before anyone else could.

It was the least I owed her.

The least I owed her brother.