Page 40 of North’s Claim

Colt doubles over laughing. “That’s it, someone cut his patch out of a cereal box.”

I shake my head, grinning, and finish my drink. The weight in my chest’s been there for so long I almost don’t notice when it’s gone. For once, my mind’s not spinning with numbers, shipments, safety protocols, enemies in the dark.

For once, I feel… peaceful.

The grill sizzles when I toss on a few ribeyes. Smoke curls up, blending with the music pumping low from the speakers, some gritty old rock track that vibrates down to the boots, and then I hear it. The laughter. Soft and pure and wrapped in something I haven’t heard from her before.

Joy.

I glance up and there she is. Barefoot on the grass, spinning slowly with two toddlers holding each of her hands, letting them lead her in a clumsy little dance to the music. Her flowery dress billows around her knees, and the way her head tips back when she laughs.

Fuck me.

I don’t think she even knows what she looks like right now. No fear or hesitation, just light. Like something cracked open and let the sun pour out of her.

And that’s when it hits me. A truth I’ve been dodging since the second I saw her wrapped in that damn towel back at the hotel. She doesn’t belong behind locked doors. She belongs on a stage. In a studio, spinning, moving, free.

I blink, and my heart gives one heavy, unfamiliar beat.

“North?” Iron calls out, throwing a pack of sausages toward me.

I catch it without taking my eyes off her.

And I can’t help but think that maybe it’s time I give her more than safety. Maybe it’s time I give her back to herself.

I flip the steaks one last time and smirk to myself, satisfied.

Then I spot Iron, leaned against the railing with a smug-ass grin plastered on his face, the kind that makes me want to bury him in the pit instead of the burgers.

“What?” I bark without looking at him, already knowing he’s up to no good.

He strolls over, eyes dancing with amusement. “She wants to work?”

“She told you?” I arch a brow.

“Nope. You just did.” He grins like a fucking Cheshire cat. “In the hood or out?”

I grunt, flipping a burger and ignoring the question.

“You trust her enough to let her out alone?” he presses.

The meat sizzles but the question lands harder than I expect.

Do I?

Not just because she’s mine, not in a romantic hearts-and-roses kind of way, but because she’s under my roof, my protection. My responsibility.

Fuck.

“I don’t know,” I admit through my teeth.

Iron lets out a low whistle, claps me on the shoulder. “Man... you're in so much trouble.”

“For what?” I snap, already annoyed.

But the bastard just walks away, laughing like he knows something I don’t.

I shake my head, going back to the grill when I hear soft steps behind me. Vera. Holding a lemonade and looking like she’s been chewing on something for too long.