"Yes," Phoenix confirms. "I called emergency church last night. Everyone came in."
"Because of me."
"Because we had a situation that required everyone's input."
"I'm a situation." The words taste bitter. I came here looking for help, not to drag an entire motorcycle club into my problems.
"You're a woman who needs protection," says the man standing near the door. Heavily built, with cold eyes that remind me of military men I've seen on TV. His voice is flat. "That makes you our problem. Our responsibility."
Our. Like I'm already part of something, already claimed by these men I don't know. It should feel presumptuous. Instead, it feels... safe. Safer than anything has felt in two years.
"I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me," I say, and I'm talking to Phoenix now, because he's the president, the one who makes the calls. "I appreciate what you're doing, what you're offering, but I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking." His voice is gentle but firm. "We're offering. There's a difference."
"The Vipers will come. Cole will come. They'll have to drive from two towns over, but they'll come."
"I know."
"They won't just knock politely and leave when you tell them no. They'll—" I stop, because I don't actually know what they'll do. I've seen what happens when the Vipers are angry, seen them beat members unconscious for minor infractions, seen them destroy property and threaten families. But I've never seen them go against another MC.
Never seen what happens when someone tells them no and means it.
"They'll try to take you back," Phoenix finishes. "They'll bring numbers, bring threats, maybe bring guns. They'll try tointimidate us into handing you over. And when that doesn't work, they'll escalate."
"To what?"
"War." The word is simple. Final. "They'll declare war on the Iron Phoenix. Try to destroy us for protecting you."
The room goes quiet. Every man is watching me, waiting to see how I'll react to that.
"You're getting ready for war," I say slowly. "That's why everyone's here. Why you called this meeting."
"Yes."
"Because of me."
"No." Phoenix's voice is hard now, certain. "Because of them. Because the Vipers are corrupt and violent and they've been a stain for far too long. Because Demon destroyed something good and replaced it with something rotten. Because eventually, it was always going to come to this. You just gave us a reason to stop waiting."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know how to process the idea that my running, my desperate bid for freedom, has lit the fuse on something that was apparently inevitable.
"This would have happened anyway? Really?" I ask.
"Eventually." Judge's voice is calm, measured. "The Vipers have been a threat on the horizon since the day we founded this club. We knew we'd have to deal with them someday."
"But not because of me. Not because I showed up and asked for help."
"Is there a difference?" asks a man sprawled in a chair, covered head to toe in tattoos. He looks completely relaxed despite the conversation. "War now or war later, it's still war. At least thisway, we're fighting for something that matters. For someone who matters."
"You don't know me." The protest sounds weak even to my own ears. "I'm nobody."
"You're somebody who needs help." His voice is quiet but firm. "That's all we need to know."
The conviction in his words, in all their words, is overwhelming. These men don't know me from anyone. I showed up on their doorstep twelve hours ago covered in bruises and fear, and they've already decided I'm worth fighting for.
Worth dying for, apparently, if what Phoenix said about war is true.
"I never wanted this," I whisper. "I just wanted to be safe. To get away from Cole and the Vipers and everything they represent. I didn't want to start a war."
