Page 18 of Charging Dodge

Dodge's expression hardens instantly. The relaxed warmth he showed me vanishes, replaced by the grim determination of a leader. “I know,” he answers, his voice dropping an octave. “Let's move this to the back. Adalynn, you're good to help Mom?”

That request isn't a question, but I nod anyway. I’m just a bystander in their world, waiting on the sidelines while the real work happens. I lack the luxury of protesting. The itch to ask who won’t stay away forever burns, but I swallow the words. The air in the room feels thick with unsaid threats and secrets I’m not meant to hear. Dodge shifts. His posture locks, his shoulders squaring off as he transforms into a commander rather than the man who held me just a moment ago. I keep my mouth shut. I’m new here and I don't know the specific rules, but I understand the hierarchy. You don't challenge a man like him, especially when his brothers are watching.

Walking toward the kitchen, I can't shake the question that's been a loop in my mind. “Have they found us?” I breathe, the thought sending a chill down my spine. “Did they manage to creep up on us without anyone noticing?” Every urge in my body screams at me to run, but reality quickly sets in. We wouldn't even make it past the edge of the yard before being intercepted and brought straight back. “How did this become my life?”

“Talking to yourself, dear?” Miranda asks, concern sketched on her face.

“Slightly,” I reply, turning away to search the room for a task to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.

“Are you feeling anxious?” she inquires, her gentle, protective tone immediately causing my shoulders to sag. She is the perfect embodiment of a mother, forever eager to look after her brood.

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Anxious doesn’t cover it, Miranda. I’m drowning in this. Did Dodge tell you why he brought us here?”

Miranda pauses, her movements slowing as she sets a plate on the counter. Her eyes meet mine, and there is a flicker of something guarded beneath her warmth. “He tells me what I need to know, Adalynn. No more, no less. And right now, he thinks we are safer not asking too many questions.”

“Safer?” I repeat, the word tasting like a metallic tang of copper. “It feels like I am walking through a minefield blindfolded.”

She steps closer, resting a hand on my arm. Her grip is firm and reassuring, yet I can feel the tension in her fingers. “Then keep your eyes open wide. This is not a game, and Dodge is not playing one.”

The weight of her words sits like lead in my gut. I want to argue and demand real answers, but I hold my tongue. The kitchen feels suddenly smaller, closing in on me. I stare at the counter, trying to find a way to make myself useful.

“You can slice the red potatoes,” she directs, gesturing toward the sink where they have already been rinsed and set out for breakfast.

“We’re in danger, Miranda,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. I grab the colander from the sink, the metal biting cold into my skin. I carry the potatoes to the chopping block, my movements uncoordinated. I can’t stop the tremor in my hands as I set them down. “You know it, I know it, and ignoring it won't make the threat disappear.”

She sets the dishrag aside and locks eyes with me. “My boy and his men lead a morally gray life, hun, but they do what they have to do to keep us breathing. If they say you’re safe, then you are. They wouldn’t have it any other way. You think the world is black and white, but out here, the lines blur. It is survival.”

I stare at the potatoes, feeling the knife firmly gripped in my hand as I mull over her words. “Survival for them is not the same as safety for me, Miranda. It feels like we are just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“When the other shoe drops, we will just pick it up and slip it right back onto your foot,” Miranda reassures me.

The panic that nearly drove me to run finally releases its hold on my lungs. My breathing hitches once before smoothing into a steady rhythm. I still don't trust the circumstances, but I find myself trusting the unwavering confidence in her voice. Pressing the knife's edge into a small red potato, the blade pierces the skin with a deafening snap. I feel the solid flesh resist against the handle right before the metal strikes the wooden board with a muffled thud. That physical vibration travels up my arm, grounding me to the kitchen counter. I continue slicing, concentrating entirely on the exactness of each cut until the trembling in my hands finally fades.

“You make it sound so simple,” I whisper, gathering the chopped pieces into a small mound.

Miranda doesn't look up from the stove as she cracks an egg into a skillet. The sizzle of the grease punctuates her words. “I’ve seen those men when they set their minds to something. Right now, that’s set on you, your siblings, and dismantling the threat against y’all.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dodge

I step out into the thick morning air, the scent of exhaust and damp grass clinging to my skin. My brothers are gathered, shadows of men with secrets etched into their weary faces. I look at them, my voice a low rasp that demands the truth. “Talk to me. What do you know that I don't?”

Rebel doesn't blink. His expression is a wall of cold stone, eyes hardened by years of looking at things most people can't stomach. “There was a fucker scouting the perimeter when we rolled in,” he says, his tone flat and dangerous. “Someone's been watching you.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice. I clench my jaw so tight it aches, the familiar heat of anger bubbling up in my chest. “Give me every damn detail you've got,” I growl, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“Don’t know much right now,” Rebel admits, a dark flash of frustration crossing his features. “Speed and Creeper snatched him up. They dragged his sorry ass off to that old highway warehouse. They're going to squeeze every bit of information out of him until there's nothing left but the truth."

A grim sense of satisfaction settles over me. “That property turned out to be a hell of an investment,” I mutter under my breath. I remember that day clearly. I was riding hard, taking the long way here just to feel the wind in my face. I found that deserted, rotting structure and saw the potential in its isolation. I knew the club would need a place where the world couldn't hear the screams. My instincts are never wrong, and right now, they're screaming for blood.

Rebel gives a nod of agreement. “I didn't get why you wasted good money on that dump back then,” he says, his voice dropping an octave as the gravity of the situation sinks in. “But today, I'm damn glad you did.”

Cobra clears his throat, asking, “Do you want any of us to head over there and keep you in the loop, pres?” I look at him, my pulse thrumming with a dark, steady rhythm. The air feels heavy, charged with the kind of violence that hasn't broken yet. I don't answer right away. I let the silence stretch, forcing them to feel the weight of what's coming. My brothers stand like statues around me, waiting for the word. We don't play games when someone invades our space. We handle it. The warehouse is waiting, and so is the blood.

“Yeah,” I reply. “First things first, though, I need the whole property line double-checked. The fact that some bastard managed to breach my defenses doesn't sit well with me.”

Rebel nods, his jaw tight. He turns to the guys, already barking orders to get the grounds locked down. They move fast, silent, and efficiently like the predators they are. Nobody messes with this club and walks away without paying a price.