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"We need to move. Now." Because if they were throwing bricks, they were watching. And every instinct screamed that this was just the opening salvo.

I helped her stand, keeping my body between her and the window. She swayed, shock making her unsteady. I steadied her with one hand, the other ready to draw.

"My bike's out back," I said. "We're going to the clubhouse. Duke needs to know about this."

"I can't." Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks. "If the club sees those photos—"

"No one's seeing shit." The protective fury in my voice made her blink. "The Serpents just declared war using you as the message. That ends now."

She stared at me, something shifting in her expression. "You'd do that? Go to war for—"

"For you? Yeah." No hesitation. "I've got you," I repeated, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "And I'm never letting anyone hurt you again."

The promise hung between us, heavy as a vow. I meant every word. Cruz, the Serpents, anyone who thought they could use her past against her—they'd learn what happened when you threatened what Tyson Monroe protected.

And somewhere between the kiss and the broken glass, between her trust and my rage, Lena had become exactly that:

Mine to protect. Mine to defend. Mine to kill for if necessary.

The war was coming whether we were ready or not. But I'd be damned if she faced it alone.

Chapter 6

Lena

Thewhiskeyhitmynose first. Then leather, motor oil, and something deeper—decades of cigarette smoke that had seeped into the very bones of King's Tavern.

The main room had been transformed. Tables pushed together to form one long surface, scarred wood gleaming under the amber lights. Duke sat at the head like a king holding court—which I guess he was. The Heavy Kings president patch on his leather cut caught the light as he leaned back, studying me with those calculating eyes that missed nothing.

Thor flanked him, massive and intimidating even at nearly three in the morning. His viking beard looked wilder than usual, like he'd been yanked from bed—which he probably had. Because of me. Because I'd brought my poisonous past to their doorstep.

My stomach churned with fresh shame.

"Sit," Duke commanded, gesturing to an empty chair halfway down the table. Not quite inner circle, but not relegated to thefoot either. A careful placement that said I mattered but wasn't one of them.

I started to move, but Tyson's hand settled on my shoulder, warm through the hoodie. "Here," he said quietly, pulling out the chair. Always the gentleman, even with his knuckles split and bloody from wherever he'd punched the clubhouse wall after we'd arrived. I'd heard the impact from the bathroom where I'd been trying not to throw up.

He didn't sit after I did. Instead, he took position behind my chair like a sentinel, radiating barely contained violence. The other members noticed—I caught the looks exchanged, the raised eyebrows. Wiz sat across from me, silver-streaked ponytail neat despite the hour. Dex lounged to his left, deceptively casual. Others I didn't know well lined the table, patches declaring their loyalty and rank.

All men. All dangerous. All here because of me.

"So." Duke's voice cut through the low murmur of conversation. "Serpents made their move. Psychological warfare using Lena's past." His eyes found mine, not unkind but unflinching. "Question is how we respond without starting a war we're not ready for."

I shrank in my seat, and the photo flashed behind my eyelids—me in that horrible lavender dress, Cruz's manicured hand in my hair. They'd all know soon. Know what kind of fucked up shit I'd been into. Know I wasn't just the mouthy tattoo artist who kept their ink fresh.

"Intel first," Wiz spoke up, voice measured. "How'd they get the photo? This Cruz—he's connected to the Serpents how?"

"Working on that," Tyson said from behind me. "But the message was clear. They know she’s important to us. And they're willing to leverage that."

"First priority is keeping Lena safe," Thor interrupted, his growl filling the space. "Everything else comes second. Theythrew a fucking brick through her window. Next time might not be a warning."

My throat tightened. Thor had always been protective—the big brother I'd never had. But this was different. This was the Sergeant-at-Arms speaking, the enforcer who'd spill blood for the club. For me.

"Agreed," Duke said. "But we need to be smart. Serpents want us reactive. Want us to come at them half-cocked so they can claim self-defense."

"Fuck their claims," someone down the table spat. "They threatened one of ours."

One of ours. The words settled strange in my chest. I wasn't patched, wasn't an old lady, wasn't anything but the tattoo artist who'd been keeping their ink fresh for years. But here they were, ready to go to war over a photo and a brick.