Chapter Five

Knox POV

I don’t usually take gate duty, but Bones needed a break, and I didn’t feel like sitting on my ass any longer. Figured I’d stretch my legs, breathe in something other than exhaust and whiskey for once.

Didn’t expect a storm in red heels to come marching up the drive like she owned the goddamn place.

She didn’t flinch. Not at the gates, not at the barbed wire, not even at me. Most folks get twitchy the second they realize who runs this place. Not her. She looked me square in the eye and told me to shove our “members only” rule straight up my ass. Sweet voice, wicked temper. A fuckin’ firecracker wrapped in perfume and defiance.

I let Prez know. He said let her in.

Now, back inside, the usual noise hits me, music, clinking glasses, the low rumble of laughter, but it’s her I spot first. Leaning against the bar beside Hex like she belongs here. Like the place didn’t scare her, didn’t swallow her whole. That dress? Shit. It’s cut high and clings like a second skin. Makes it real damn hard to look away.

I move toward the back, where Ghost is posted up with that smug look he always wears after something interesting walks through our doors.

He clocks me and pats the seat beside him. “Sit, brother.”

I drop down and take the glass he slides my way without a word.

“So?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the bar. “What’s her story? We don’t get girls like that walking in off the street. Not unless they’re already tagged by another club.”

Ghost lets out a quiet grunt, amused. “Danielle says she’s in an open relationship. Boyfriend’s idea. Sounds like he’s getting bored and looking for a free pass.”

I snort and take a long pull of my drink. “Typical. Wants to eat his cake and still raid the goddamn pantry. Fuckin’ coward move. He wants out but doesn’t got the balls to say it.”

Ghost nods, eyes still fixed on her like he’s reading something the rest of us can’t see. “From what Hex said, she came to prove a point. Didn’t plan on this place. G****e sent her here. She pushed through a panic attack just to cross the street.”

“Shit,” I mutter, eyebrows lifting. “She doesn’t look it.”

“No,” he agrees, swirling the liquid in his glass. “But she’s holding it together by a thread. She’s not one of ours. Not yet. But she’s got something. Fire maybe, or desperation.”

“She soft?”

“Not soft. Just not hardened yet. Might be if she keeps walking into places like this.”

I glance at her again. She’s laughing at something Hex said, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her grip on the glass is too tight. Shoulders tense like she’s ready to bolt or break, maybe both.

“She’s trouble,” I mutter.

“She’s a spark,” Ghost corrects. “Could go up in flames, or light a goddamn fire.”

Prez walks by then, giving us both a look like he’s already ten steps ahead. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps moving. That’s how it works here. No one spells things out unless they have to.

“So,” I say, setting my glass down and cracking my neck, “what now?”

Ghost smirks. “Hex tried to point her my way. But I told her you might be better for it.”

My brows rise. “You passing up a stray kitten like that? Thought you liked ’em shaken and wide-eyed.”

“Normally, yeah. But this one?” His voice drops low. “She’s already broken. I don’t want to be the one to crack her wide open.”

I glance back at the bar, where Danielle’s trying to act like she belongs in a room full of leather and bloodstained stories.

“Guess I’ll play nice,” I say, even though the idea of touching something that soft with hands like mine makes my gut twist.

Ghost shrugs. “Try not to fuck it up.”

I don’t answer. I just drain my glass, shove back from the table, and start toward her.

Let’s see what she’s really made of.

As I walk across the floor, boots hitting the boards with the steady weight of a man who doesn’t have anything to prove, I feel the usual shift in the room. Brothers nod, some lift their glasses, but most just go quiet enough to listen without looking. That’s how it is around here, nobody’s ever minding their own business. Not really.

Danielle doesn’t see me coming at first. She’s tucked her hair behind one ear and is fidgeting with the straw in her drink, doing a shit job of pretending she’s relaxed. Hex catches sight of me and grins like she’s just finished setting up the final domino in a long, dangerous line.

“She’s all yours,” she says as I step up beside them, not bothering to lower her voice.

Danielle looks up, eyes meeting mine. There’s a flicker of something behind them, recognition maybe, or wariness. Either way, she doesn’t drop her gaze. Good. That kind of grit earns a sliver of respect.

“Hey,” I say, leaning a forearm against the bar. “I’m Knox. We met at the gate.”

Her throat works as she swallows, then nods. “Right. You’re the one I yelled at.”

“You did,” I say, letting a small grin tug at my mouth. “Gotta admit, I liked it. Not many people come swinging at the club like that. Even fewer walk in afterward without flinching.”

“I was desperate,” she says quickly, like it’ll make a difference. “Didn’t exactly plan to end up here.”

“G****e Maps led you into a den of sinners. That’s one hell of a rebrand for them.”

She almost smiles, and I watch the way her shoulders ease just a little.

“Drink good?” I ask.

She nods again. “Stronger than I thought.”

I glance over her glass, noting how much she’s already gone through. She’s drinking fast, either trying to numb something or build enough courage to keep pretending this was her idea.

“You eaten?” I ask suddenly.

The question throws her. She blinks, then shakes her head. “No. Didn’t really think I’d stay long enough to need to.”

“Come on.” I jerk my chin toward the back corner. “We’ve got food. Ain’t fancy, but it’s hot and it won’t knock you on your ass like those drinks will.”

Hex arches a brow, but doesn’t say a word. Just watches like she’s waiting for a reaction.

Danielle hesitates, eyes darting toward the door for a second. That instinct to run is still fresh on her skin, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she reaches for her bag and follows me.

We weave through the crowd, and I don’t miss the way some of the guys look her over as we pass. They’re not leering, at least not most of them, but this is the kind of place where everyone sizes up everyone else. New blood means questions. Questions mean history.

She keeps close as we reach the back booth, one of the few spots with a little breathing room and a clear view of the exits. I slide in and gesture for her to sit across from me. She does, carefully smoothing her dress as she lowers herself onto the cracked leather.

“Kitchen’s still open,” I tell her. “We got burgers, wings, some chili if you’re brave.”

She looks down, then back up at me. “Burger’s fine. Thanks.”

I nod, flag down one of the prospects, and give the order. Then I lean back and watch her for a minute.

“You always let strange men buy you food?” I ask.

Her lips twitch. “Only the ones who work the gates of a members-only biker bar after I yell at them.”

That earns a real grin from me. “You got a smart mouth. Gonna get you in trouble one of these days.”

“It already has,” she says quietly, and just like that, the edge is back in her voice.

There it is, that shadow again, creeping in from the corners of her eyes. Ghost was right. She’s not just here to make a point. She’s bleeding under the surface, and nobody’s seen it because she’s too used to hiding the wound.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” I ask, voice lower now.

She shrugs. “Thought I did. Boyfriend wants to see other people. Figured I’d beat him to it.”

“Is that really it?”

She stares at me, and for a second, I think she’s gonna lie. But then she sighs.

“I used to go out. I used to be… normal. Parties, friends, concerts, the whole thing. But after a while, I just stopped. Panic, anxiety, whatever label people want to slap on it. Crowds started feeling like cages. So I stayed in. He didn’t like it. Said I was dragging him down. Tonight he said we should open the relationship, and when I said fine, he laughed like he didn’t believe I’d even try.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here,” she echoes.

The prospect drops the food off and disappears again. I slide the plate toward her and grab a wing from mine.

“Eat,” I tell her. “We don’t judge here. Least not for that shit.”

She watches me for a moment, then picks up the burger and takes a bite. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable now. Just two people chewing through different kinds of damage.

When she finishes half of it, she wipes her fingers on a napkin and looks at me again.

“Why do you care?”

I lean back and cross my arms. “Because you walked through the gate like it meant something. Because you talked back instead of backing down. That means you’ve still got fight left in you. Around here, that matters.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Then you’d be someone else’s problem. But I think you’re mine now.”

Her brows lift. “Yours?”

“Figure of speech,” I say with a half-smile. “For now.”

She stares at me like she’s trying to work out whether that’s a threat or a promise. Maybe it’s both. Doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that she’s still sitting here, still looking me in the eye, still reaching for the rest of her burger like she might just make it through the night without falling apart.

Good, because I’m not letting her walk out that door just yet.

Not when I’ve only just started figuring out what kind of fire she’s hiding.