Page 154 of Hidden

Dante’s expression hardened immediately. He put his bottle down on the bar and leaned in slightly. “What do you need from me? Say the word and we’ll do it. Do you want to go to the Riders’ clubhouse?”

Her text flashed through my mind again.

I’m safe. Will meet you at the Devils. With Natalie. She’ll drop me off.

There had been no kisses at the end of it. No hearts. No sarcastic little sign-off.

Something felt rotten, but I couldn’t go charging over there blind. Not without knowing what had happened. If things had already gone bad, barging into Rider territory with half the club behind me could make them a thousand times worse for her.

“Nah,” I said, trying to keep the tension out of my voice and not quite managing it. “I’ll give her an hour or two. If she hasn’t turned up by then, we ride. Until that point, I’ve got no choice but to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“Vienna—”

“I can’t, Dante,” I cut in, letting the wall slip just enough for him to see what was underneath. “She’s pregnant, man. I can’trisk them finding out. Whatever’s happened tonight, I need to trust that she’s handled it the best way she knew how, and she’ll get word to me when she can. But two hours is my limit.”

“Two hours it is, brother,” he said with a nod. “I’ll go have a word with Crash and make sure the old bastard stops drinking now. We’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. Let’s just hope she turns up, because God help those Riders if we have to retrieve her.”

“Hear, hear,” I replied, clinking my bottle against his before taking a long swallow.

God help them indeed.

I didn’t move from the bar after Dante walked away.

I told myself it was because I was waiting. That there was no point pacing the room like a caged animal when she’d said she was coming here. But the truth was, my legs didn’t feel quite right beneath me. Like if I started moving, I wouldn’t stop. Like I’d end up tearing out of the doors, onto my bike, and riding straight into Rider territory without a plan, without backup, without a single fucking thought in my head other than getting to her.

So I stayed where I was.

I drank my beer.

And I watched.

The clubhouse was alive in the way it always was on a night like this. Loud, chaotic, full of men who had no business being as relaxed as they were. Laughter bounced off the walls, pool balls cracked against each other, and somewhere in the cornersomeone had the music turned up just a touch too loud. It should have felt normal.

It didn’t.

Every time the door opened, my head snapped up before I could stop myself. Every time it wasn’t her, something in my chest tightened just a little bit more.

“You’re going to wear a hole through that door if you keep staring at it like that.”

I didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Fuck off, Trent,” I muttered, dragging my gaze away long enough to take another drink.

“I’m serious,” he went on, leaning his elbows on the bar beside me. “You look like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.”

“Careful,” I replied mildly. “You’re about two seconds away from me smothering you with my beard.”

He snorted, flicking my beard before ruffling my hair. “Touchy. Must be love.”

When I didn’t reply, he studied me for a moment, longer than usual, his usual grin fading just slightly. “You sure everything’s sound?”

No. I wasn’t.

Because something had been sitting wrong with me ever since that text came through, and no amount of beer or noise or distraction was shifting it.