Page 59 of Grim’s Angel

Freedom is heavier than I imagined.

The gates are open. The SUV is parked outside. I can book a hotel and drive far enough from my family to build whatever life I want.

Nothing stops me from leaving.

I remain at the table until engines enter the yard.

Grim walks through the clubhouse door with Striker, Torch, and Hound behind him.

Blood stains the front of his shirt. His knuckles are split, and a fresh scrape crosses his jaw.

His silver eyes find me.

Everything else disappears from his face.

“Angel.”

I cross the room.

“Your shoulder.”

“Fine.”

“That word still has no medical value.”

Razor catches Grim by the uninjured arm and pulls him into the medical room. I follow long enough to watch Razor remove the dressing.

The stitches held.

Only then do I breathe properly.

Grim looks at the keys in my hand.

“You have a way out.”

“I do.”

His jaw tightens. “Why are you still here?”

“Your office.”

“Angel.”

“Now, Grim.”

Striker becomes deeply interested in the ceiling.

Grim leads me down the hall.

I close his office door and turn the lock. The keys land on his desk.

I push his cut from his shoulders and let it fall beside the door.

His gaze follows it.

“You told me to choose when Rivers was handled and every gate stood open,” I say. “I have an SUV, an open road, cash, and nobody left who can order me onto it.”

He says nothing.