He keeps his gaze locked away from Snow’s bare skin. If things weren’t so dire, I’d almost laugh at how everyone but Butcher knows exactly who the princess belongs to.
“Let me take over so I can check her out,” I tell Snow, my voice dropping an octave to keep it gentle for her sake.
She nods, hands lifting so mine can take over, plunging my palms into the hot, sticky pool of Marigold’s blood. Only a faint tremor in Snow’s fingers betrays her terror. Otherwise, she’spure steel. She’ll need that backbone when Butcher finally steps up to claim her.
I peel the soaked shirt back, inspecting Marigold’s thigh. A jagged puncture, an inch or two deep, oozes crimson in a relentless, pulsing stream as soon as I ease the pressure.
“Doesn’t look like it hit anything vital,” I mutter, more for my own sanity, “but I hate how much blood’s already soaking the pavement.” I snap my gaze to Devious. “Back the cage up. Get it as close as possible.”
Behind him, Pope, Savior, Malice, and Butcher come tearing into the alley. Their heavy leather boots slap hard against the concrete, the heavy metal chains from their wallets creating a sharp, rhythmic tinkling sound that echoes off the brick walls.
That sound is familiar, thawing the icy panic in my veins. When the world goes to hell, and trust is scarce, I can always count on my brothers. Except for how they treated her in the chapel, they’ve never failed me.
Marigold has flat-out refused to set foot back in the clubhouse since that afternoon. I feel the cold distance between her and my brothers every time they walk into Nauti Nibbles. The wall isn’t theirs this time. They’ve apologized to me, but I’m not the one they owe a goddamn thing to. They tore away the fragile sense of family she thought she’d finally found in them.
I feared she’d use their betrayal to shove me away, too. Her fierce, defensive words before fleeing the clubhouse rattled me to my core. But later, curled in my arms, she promised she wouldn’t run. It’s us, always.
What haunts me now is the fear that my brothers can’t make it right with her. If she shuts them out for good, will it tear us apart? Will I have to choose? Because as much as I fucking love and need my brothers, as much as they are my blood and my family, I won’t survive this life without my little shadow. Justthe same, without my club and the men at my back, I’ll never be completely whole either.
Butcher moves straight to Snow the moment his boots hit the alley floor. The moment his cold eyes confirm she’s unharmed, he rips his kutte off, shoving the heavy leather into Savior’s hands while he pulls his T-shirt over his head. His big, scarred hands are unexpectedly gentle as he slides the dark cotton over Snow’s head to cover her bare skin. From the stunned, completely paralyzed expression on her face, I don’t think he’s ever let her see this fiercely protective, quiet side of him before.
He turns to me the second his kutte is back on his shoulders, his voice flat and lethal. “She good?”
“Mmm, hmm. Perfect. Just a scratch,” Marigold murmurs, one of her eyes popping open, glazed and unfocused. “Did you bring my tacos?”
Snow lets out a soft, wet laugh next to me. I glance up at her with a lifted brow, and she quickly relays the ridiculous shit Marigold mumbled before she went under. A sharp, involuntary smile flirts with my mouth as I shake my head. I shouldn't be surprised. At this point, the unhinged shit that spills from my woman’s mouth is just par for the course.
“I’ll buy you a thousand fucking tacos, as long as you don’t die on me,” I tell her, my voice thick as I lean closer.
“I’d haunt you so hard.”
“I have absolutely no doubt that you would,” I rasp, a dark, heavy layer of laughter coating my words, masking the terror vibrating in my throat.
She struggles to lift a hand, pointing a bloody finger past my shoulder at Pope and the rest of the crew standing guard. “You bunch ofpanigyrtzides. I should put glitter in your gas tanks. Better sleep with one eye open.”
I huff a dry, ragged chuckle, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction. “She says you’re a bunch of festival-clownamateurs. A total joke-show.” I lean in lower, my voice dropping into a rough rumble meant only for her. “Focus on keeping those pretty eyes open, little shadow. I'll buy the goddamn glitter.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, a sudden, blinding flash of love and raw gratitude sparking through the haze of her pain. “You learned Greek?”
The breathy, reedy tone of her voice has way more to do with her sheer shock than the blood leaking onto my hands.
“What? You didn't think I was going to let you talk shit about me behind my back forever, did you?” I ask, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smug smirk.
“Fucking love you,” she breathes, her arm drifting up toward my face.
Instead of the soft, burning warmth of her palm against my cheek, the cool, solid slap of heavy silicone greets my skin.
A sharp, choking sound explodes behind me, like one of my brothers just took a knee to the ribs trying to swallow his own tongue. A tiny, pain-filled giggle escapes the woman bleeding out on the asphalt.
I close my eyes, my forehead dropping for a second as the reality hits me, and I bite the inside of my cheek until it tastes like copper. “Goldie. Please tell me you didn’t actually use your fucking dildo as a weapon. I thought we were joking.”
“Uh, yeah. Told you. Good idea. Jack the Dripper kicked butt. My champion."
A strange, toxic knot tightens directly behind my ribs.Wait… am I seriously getting possessive and fucking jealous over a thirteen-inch piece of pink silicone because she called it her champion?
Behind me, the dam breaks. My club brothers lose all fucking control, their booming, deep-chested laughter erupting and ringing loud against the narrow brick alleyway. I snap my head around, scowling viciously at the pack of them over my shoulder.
“Would you motherfuckers not encourage her?” I snap, my grip tightening on the shirt pressing into her leg.
