Page 98 of Hades

His jaw tightened. I watched the muscle jump as he fought for control.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “We did. And I won’t fucking apologize for it.”

The honesty surprised me. Most men would’ve tried to soften it. Make it sound better than it was. But Brock just stood there and owned it.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re my fucking queen,” he said.

Simple.

Direct.

As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I protect what’s mine.”

Something twisted in my chest.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Something more complicated. Fear and desire and resentment all tangled together into a knot I couldn’t untie.

I’d spent my entire life building my own world. My own business. My own rules. I answered to no one. Took care of myself. Made my own choices.

And now this man was telling me I belonged to him.

The fucked-up part?

Some dark corner of my soul liked it.

Because Indie’s words kept running through my head.

“That’s the part I didn’t realize I needed. Someone who cared enough to protect me. Someone who made me understand that I matter.”

Wasn’t that what I wanted?

What I’d been craving?

“I have my own life,” I said quietly, still not willing to give in to the one thing I’d always wanted. “My own house. My own business. I’m not some woman who needs a man to take care of her.”

“I know that.” He stepped closer. Not crowding me. Just closing the distance I’d put between us. “I’m not trying to take that away from you, Lettie. I’m trying to give you something more.”

“What? A target on my back?”

His eyes darkened. “Protection. The club’s protection. No one touches you now. No one threatens you. No one hurts you. Because if they do, they answer to me. And then they answer to every brother in this club.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him I didn’t need protection. That I’d been taking care of myself just fine.

But that would have been a lie.

Because I knew what I did. Knew the risks I took. Knew that eventually, someone might figure out what I was.

What I’d done.

And when that happened, having an outlaw motorcycle club at my back might be the only thing that kept me alive.

“I need to check on my mom,” I said instead. Deflecting. Avoiding. Buying myself time to think.