Page 71 of Cruz

Willa looks at me. “But the club will sort it. Atlas was already calling people before I even finished swearing. Someone’s going to board everything up. Insurance will be a nightmare, because insurance is always a nightmare, but it’ll get fixed.”

“You sound so calm.”

“I’m not calm.” Willa glances down at her hands, then back up. “I’m furious. I’m sad. That shop is mine. I built it piece by piece. I know what it is to love a building.”

The words hit me square in the chest.

“My café…” I stop because my voice cracks.

“I know,” Willa says.

And I think she does.

Not in the vague way people say I know when they don’t know at all, but in the real way. She knows what it is to walk into a space and feel every hour of work, every dream, every impossible decision that made it yours.

“It’s not just windows,” I whisper.

“No,” she says. “It’s not.”

Lark steps closer. “But it can be repaired.”

“I know.” I press my fingers against my eyes for one second. “I know that. I keep telling myself that. No one was hurt. That’s what matters. Liam is safe. Cruz is safe. Prissy slept through most of it, because apparently, she’s either extremely brave, chill, or lazy.”

“She looks like a combination of all three,” Ella says.

Prissy purrs like she agrees.

The little joke loosens something in me. Not enough to make everything fine. Nothing is fine. But it’s enough to let me breathe. “I keep asking myself if this is what it’s always like,” I admit.

The three women go still, but not in an offended way. More like they expected the question.

“With the club,” I add, because I need to be clear. “Is this what I should expect? Broken windows? Threats? Men having meetings about gangs while everyone waits to find out if they’re safe? Is this what being with Cruz means?”

There it is.

The thing I’m most ashamed of thinking.

I stare down at Prissy because it’s easier than looking at them. “I care about him. A lot. More than I thought I could care about anyone. But I have Liam to think about. I have a business. I have a life. And I’m sitting here wondering if loving Cruz means I’m choosing danger.”

No one answers immediately. That’s good. I think I would hate it if they rushed to smooth it over. Lark is the one who speaks first, her voice is soft but certain. “No. It’s not always like this.”

Ella nods. “The club doesn’t go looking for enemies as a rule.”

Willa huffs. “Not anymore, anyway.”

Lark gives her a look, and Willa lifts both hands.

“I’m being honest.”

“She is,” Ella says. “The way of life can attract trouble. Some people see the patches and assume things. Some people have old grudges. Case in point, mine and Tyrant’s father.”

She must notice my raised eyebrows because she adds. “That’s probably a story for another day. Family feuds aside, some people want to test boundaries because they think bikers are either easy targets or easy villains. But Tyrant isn’t reckless. Raiden isn’t either.”

“Tyrant leads through negotiation when he can,” Lark says. “Resolution. He thinks before he acts. Sometimes too much, if you ask certain people, but I happen to love that about him. He isn’t power hungry. He doesn’t need to prove he’s the biggest man in the room.”

That sounds like what I’ve heard about Satan’s Angels’ president.

“He’ll do what’s best for the club,” Lark continues. “And for everyone connected to it. That includes you.”