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“I don’t want to leave you.” A tear leaks from her eye. Desperation breaks in her voice.

“I’ll find you,” I tell her again, pushing her away.

“Promise,” she begs, her hands reaching out.

“I promise.”

Grabbing her sister's hand, she moves toward the back of the house where the garage is situated as footfalls pound the asphalt outside. Then the room floods with brothers.

Royal Bastard brothers.

My brothers.

Chapter Fifteen

Ruby

“Jameson.”

I breathe a little easier as the flock of Royal Bastard patches enter the living room. Racing back through to where they now fill the space, my heart stutters. “Don’t!” I scream to my brother when he aims a gun at Ezekiel’s forehead.

“Explain yourself,” Jameson demands of Ezekiel, the gun he took from Idiot staying limp in his palm by his side.

“You’re not my prez,” Ez grunts, his jaw flexing. He’s remaining neutral, but he’s pissed. Nerves dance up my spine.

“I’m her fucking brother, motherfucker.” Jameson pushes the barrel of the gun harder into Ez’s forehead.

“Jameson, it’s not his fault!” I bark, shoving at his chest. He doesn’t flinch. My brother is a wall of unmovable muscle.

Rage, my brother’s best friend and the man I’ve called uncle for as long as I can remember, places a hand on Jameson’s shoulder and whispers something into his ear. Jameson relaxes and lowers his gun. Turning his attention on me, he grasps my wrist, tugging me toward him. Ezekiel drops his gaze to where Jameson holds me, a low growl reverberating up his throat. His hand darts out and takes my other wrist, pulling me back a step.

“I will drop you, motherfucker,” Jameson warns as they play tug of war with me.

“You’ll have to,” Ez retorts, his hand jerking.

“Enough!” Rage bellows. Stepping in between them, he places his hands on their chests and shoves them apart, forcing Jameson to release me.

“How did you find me?” Ez asks Rage once I’m safely by his side.

“We didn’t. We found her.” Rage nods his head toward me.

“Melanie told you,” I breathe. She gave us a whole twenty-four minutes, not hours. Traitor.

“What did you say?” Jameson asks gruffly, his brow puckering. “What about Melanie?”

“It wasn’t her?” I wince, biting my lip.

“Copper came through with some surveillance after the shit that went down at your mother’s house. He happened to be in town with Koyn and called in some favors.”

Koyn… My stomach flutters at his name. I’ve had a crush on the president of the Tulsa chapter since I was sixteen. He’s loved-up and way too old for me, but damn, that man was the most beautiful I’d seen until I met Ezekiel.

“Are you listening to me?” Rage demands my attention.

“Yes.” I lie, heat blooming up my cheeks.

“Your mother?”

“She’s fine. In Lily’s room.” I wave a dismissive hand.

“Ew, what?” Lily cries out. “Why would you put her in there?”

“I’m sorry, we needed to keep her contained. Your room has a lock—which is something I want to ask you about.” I turn my attention to her, and Jameson and Ezekiel follow my gaze.

Her mouth pops open, her eyes wild as they flicker between us. “I sleepwalk,” she lies. I’ve heard enough of her little white lies over the years to know there’s more to it. But I’ll wait until we’re alone.

“Go collect her mother.” Jameson gestures to his brothers. “And get him a shirt.” He narrows his eyes on Ezekiel. The brothers nod and march down the hall.

“She’s feral,” I warn them.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Jameson informs me, then shifts his attention to Ezekiel. “So do you. Prez wants to see you.”

“Let’s go see him them.” Ezekiel slips his hand from my wrist to clasp my palm, our fingers interlocking. He’s claiming me, offering me the safety of his touch. Butterflies take flight within me.

Both Jameson and Rage grit their teeth at the action. They’ll never be okay with me being with a brother. When all the chaos calms, I’m not sure Ezekiel will even want me…or be willing to upset his brothers to have me. He may be a lone wolf but when it comes down to it, all brothers are pack animals. He will always return to the fold.

Dread wraps its cold hand around me as we pile outside, Ez and I sandwiched between Jameson and Rage, Ez now covered in another checkered shirt, thanks to Lily’s grandpa. It strains over the bulk of Ezekiel's arms but it’s better than nothing.

The driveway is covered in bikes and a couple trucks, drawing the attention of the neighbor across the street. She looks old and frail, her white hair pulled back into a bun. Standing there with the aid of a cane, she frowns over at us, her hand hovering above her eyes to get a better look. “Lily?” she calls out. “Everything okay, dear?” The woman must have no self-preservation. Anyone else would have been inside their house, their drapes twitching, not out front getting a better look.

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