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“I didn’t even see that nope rope until it latched onto my leg.”

“Man, I thought you were tough, but one little noodle with fangs takes you down? Guess I better start calling you ‘Cottonmouth’s Bitch.’ That would be a good club name,” Vapor says, grinning while rubbing his beard.

“Fucking asshole.”

Vapor laughs until he spots Isabella in the hallway. “If Doc says it’s cool, we’ll be here with your ride tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

After Vapor leaves, Isabella fusses over me, feeding me Jell-O, when all I really want is her. Oh well, at least she’s safe now. And I plan to keep her in my bed for the rest of our lives, so I’ll just have to wait. Stupid fucking snake.

Chapter 23: Isabella

A week later, we pull up in front of the safehouse where the women and children have been staying. Ice parks his bike next to Vapor’s and waits as I get off. He swings his leg over the bike with a stiff grunt, masking the wince that flickers across his face. He thinks he’s fooling me, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles tighten against the lingering pain. I looked at the bite area this morning while he was still sleeping. There’s still some swelling and bruising, but that’s to be expected. After getting bit by a venomous snake, he should be resting, but the man’s stubborn as hell.

However, there’s no trace of self-pity in his gaze. He’s acting like everything’s just dandy, so I go along with it. He’s the toughest man I know, and that makes my chest swell with pride. Despite everything my brother tried to take from him—his life, his brothers, his future—Ice still stands. Unshaken. Unbreakable.

I brush my fingers over his knuckles as we climb the front steps, murmuring, “Love you."

Ditto,” he rumbles, his voice a mix of amusement and quiet devotion. Even when he’s vulnerable, he exudes raw power. It’s the sexiest thing a man can do, and I’m one hundred percent here for it.

When we reach the front door, it swings open. One of the men guarding the house welcomes us inside. “How’s the leg?”

“Still attached,” Ice says, smirking.

“Damn, brother, you can dodge fists, but you got taken out by a legless assassin?” The man chuckles.

Another patched member pokes his head out of the living room. “Heard you lost a fight to a murder spaghetti. That’s a new low.”

“Hiss stick got ‘em good,” Vapor calls from the kitchen.

“Assholes,” Ice grumbles, still grinning.

The scent of simmering spices and roasting meat fills the air, drawing us into the kitchen. Babet’s at the stove, working her culinary magic. Blue’s bent over pulling fresh loaves of bread from the oven. The yeasty warmth of fresh bread embraces us like a promise of homecoming. Inside the safehouse, the violent, treacherous world feels miles away.

“Smells like heaven,” Ice says, his voice lighter than I’ve heard in days. He heads straight to the table where Vapor’s sitting. After getting settled, he pours a glass of whiskey.

“Doc says no booze!” I grab the glass out of his hand and toss the liquor into the sink.

“Doesn’t make any sense. It’ll help me.”

“Nope,” Babet says from in front of the stove. “It slows healing. If you want to keep that leg, you need to do what the doc says.”

“Listen to the woman,” Vapor says before tossing back his glass of whiskey. “Don’t worry. Won’t drink it all.”

“You better not,” Blue says, arching a brow. “No one likes whiskey dick.”

“I’ve never had whiskey dick in my life,” he protests.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Babet says over her shoulder.

“What are you making?” I slide into the seat beside Ice, our sides touching.

“Try it.” Babet fishes a perfectly fried boudin ball out of the pan and tosses it into a small bowl. “It’s milder than usual so Blue can eat it.”

I bite into the crackling skin of a perfectly fried boudin ball, and it shatters beneath my teeth, releasing a rush of steaming, spiced rice and pork that melts on my tongue with a buttery, peppery heat. The scent of garlic and green onions fills the air, mingling with the distant sizzle of hot oil, while my fingertips, slick with golden crumbs, tingle from the lingering warmth of that first irresistible bite.

“Baby’s fighting back if I eat spicy stuff,” Blue says.