Page 5

Azrael

Charming leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on me with the kind of intensity that had made grown men squirm since before he became President. “So, Azrael,” he said, his voice deceptively casual, “what exactly do you plan to do with Zara while we look for her mother?”

I knew what he was really asking. Every man at that table did.

“She’s got nowhere to go,” I said, keeping my voice even. “If she wants to remain close to the club, she’d be living out of her car. I can’t exactly throw her out.”

Havoc shifted in his seat. “She staying in your bed?”

I shot him a look that would have made a lesser man flinch. “Like I said, the guest room. This isn’t about that.”

“Maybe it should be,” someone muttered from down the table. I didn’t bother to see who.

Charming raised a hand, silencing the room. “You know the rules, Azrael. A woman stays at the compound, she belongs to someone. Period. Unless she’s club pussy.” His eyes didn’t waver from mine. “No exceptions, not even for you.”

The rules weren’t arbitrary. They existed for a reason -- to protect the club, to maintain order, to avoid the kind of jealousy and infighting that had torn other MCs apart. Women who weren’t claimed were free game for everyone, or they couldn’t stay. It was simple, brutal math.

“She’s not looking to join the life,” I said. “She just needs a safe place to stay while we find her mother.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Renegade said, his voice rumbling through the tension. “Rules are rules. Either she’s your woman, or she’s not staying.”

I felt a tightness in my chest at the thought. It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone. A very long time. The last woman who’d been mine had ended up in a body bag, and I’d made a promise to myself after that -- no more innocents dragged into my world, no more blood on my hands that didn’t belong to those who deserved it.

But Zara was already in danger. She’d be sleeping in her car, vulnerable to anyone who might come looking for her. And if the people who took her mother decided to tie up loose ends…

“I’m not making that decision for her,” I said finally. “She didn’t come here looking for a man. She came looking for help.”

“Then help her pay for a motel,” one of the brothers suggested.

I shook my head. “And leave her unprotected? If the people who took her mother decide she knows too much, or if they’re looking to grab her too, she’s dead.”

“So protect her,” Charming said simply. “Make her yours.”

The way he said it made it sound so easy, so straightforward. Like claiming a woman was as simple as picking up a new shirt or buying a drink. For some of the brothers, maybe it was. But not for me. Not anymore.

“You know what that means,” Havoc said, leaning forward. “She wears your patch, she’s your responsibility. Your property, as far as the outside world is concerned.”

“I know what it means,” I said, my voice hardening slightly. “I’ve been around long enough.”

Charming studied me for a moment, then smiled. It wasn’t a warm expression -- more like a predator sizing up its prey. “You afraid, Angel Boy? Afraid you might actually come to feel something for this girl?”

A few chuckles rippled around the table. I ignored them.

“I’m concerned about her safety,” I said. “And about her consent. This isn’t some club hang-around looking to be claimed. She’s a civilian with a missing mother who came to us -- to me -- for help.”

“So explain it to her,” Renegade suggested. “Tell her how it works. Let her decide.”

I nodded slowly. That was fair. Let Zara make her own choice, with all the information. If she decided the protection of the club -- of me -- wasn’t worth the strings attached, I’d help her find somewhere else to stay.

“I’ll talk to her,” I agreed. “Explain the situation.”

Charming nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. In the meantime, I want you and Havoc to check out the mother’s house tomorrow. Renegade, talk to your contacts in law enforcement, see if there’s anything on the woman’s disappearance they’re not sharing publicly.”

“What about the community center?” I asked.

“Day after,” Charming decided. “We don’t want to spook whoever’s behind this by showing up everywhere at once. Start with the primary scene, then branch out.”

The others nodded in agreement. It was a solid plan -- methodical, careful. The kind of approach that had kept the Devil’s Boneyard one step ahead of rivals and law enforcement for decades.

“One more thing,” Charming added, his eyes finding mine again. “If the girl decides to stay -- if she becomes yours -- you keep her out of club business. She doesn’t need to know details, doesn’t need to see things that might complicate matters down the road.”

I knew what he meant. If we found the people responsible for Mazida’s disappearance, what happened next wouldn’t be pretty. Wouldn’t be legal. And while Zara might want justice for her mother, witnessing club justice firsthand was different from imagining it.

“Understood,” I said quietly.

Charming’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, then he turned to address the rest of the table. “Anything else?” When no one spoke, he nodded. “Then we’re done here. Keep this quiet for now -- no discussing it with your women or Prospects until we know more. I’ll fill the others in after Azrael makes a decision about Zara.”

The meeting broke up, brothers rising from their seats and filing out of the room. A few clapped me on the shoulder as they passed -- a silent show of support. Havoc lingered, waiting until most of the others had left before speaking.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low.

I gave him a sideways look. “Who said I was taking responsibility for anything yet? She might tell me to go to hell when I explain the rules.”

He snorted. “Doubt it. I might have gotten to my seat before you, but I saw the way she looked at you when you two came in. Girl’s already halfway to being yours whether she knows it or not. Maybe she fell in love with the legend before she ever met you.”

Before I could respond, Renegade joined us. “Just so we’re clear,” he said, “if we find whoever took her mother, they’re not walking away, right?”

My jaw tightened. “No. They’re not.”

Both men nodded, satisfied with my answer. It was one of the things I respected most about the club -- when it came to protecting women and children, there were no half measures, no compromises.

“See you in the morning,” Havoc said, clapping me on the back before heading out. “Meet at the gate by seven o’clock.”

Renegade gave me a measuring look. “Been a long time since you had a steady woman in your life, brother. Might do you some good.”

I didn’t respond to that, just watched as he followed Havoc out the door, leaving me alone in the now-empty Church. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head.

The choice ahead of me wasn’t simple. If Zara agreed to be “mine,” it would mean pulling her further into a world she probably couldn’t imagine. A world of violence, loyalty, and rigid codes. A world where women were protected, yes, but also possessed. Well, with some exceptions. There were always those like Havoc’s woman, Jordan. But they were few and far between.

If she refused, I’d have to find somewhere else for her to stay -- somewhere beyond the compound’s protection, beyond my ability to keep her safe every minute of every day.

I rubbed my hand across my face. Then I stood, straightened my cut, and headed for the door. Time to have a conversation with Zara Colton about exactly what she’d gotten herself into.

I stepped out of Church and noticed the seat by the door was vacant. I moved to the main room, scanning the area. I found Zara sitting at a corner table, a can of soda in front of her. The Prospect I’d assigned to watch her was seated across from her, looking bored but attentive. A few of the club women cast curious glances her way, but none had approached her yet. That would change if she stayed -- they’d want to size up any new female in their territory, especially one connected to me. Thankfully, she’d have the old ladies to back her.

Zara straightened when she saw me approach, relief visible in the softening of her shoulders. The Prospect stood immediately.

“Everything good, sir?” he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide his curiosity.

“Fine,” I said. “You can go.”

He hesitated only a moment before nodding and retreating to the bar, where I knew he’d be pressed for information by his fellow Prospects. I slid into the chair he’d vacated, taking in Zara’s appearance. She looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from days of worry and nights without proper sleep.

“Are they going to help?” she asked, leaning forward and keeping her voice low. “Will they help find my mother?”

I nodded. “Yes. We start tomorrow. Havoc and I will check out your mother’s house, see if there’s anything the police missed. Another brother is going to make some calls, see if there’s any information law enforcement isn’t sharing.”

Zara’s eyes widened slightly. “You have contacts in the police?”

“We have contacts everywhere,” I said simply. “That’s how the club operates. We maintain relationships with people who can provide information when needed.”

She nodded slowly, taking a sip of her soda. “Thank you. I didn’t know if… I wasn’t sure they’d agree to help.”

“The Devil’s Boneyard has a code,” I told her. “Protecting women and children is part of that code. Your mother’s work -- helping women escape bad situations -- aligns with what we do, just in a different way.”

Relief flooded her face, and for a moment I thought she might cry. Instead, she took a deep breath and composed herself.

“So what happens now? Do I go back to your place?” she asked.

This was the moment. The conversation I’d been dreading since Charming laid out the club’s position. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, trying to find the right words.

“There’s something we need to discuss first,” I said carefully. “About you staying here at the compound.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Is that a problem?”

“The club has rules,” I began. “Strict ones, about who can stay here and under what circumstances.”

Zara’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

I took a breath. “Women who stay at the compound need to belong to the club in some way. Either they… entertain the club members, or they belong to just one of us.”

“Belong?” Her voice had gone quiet, and I could see her processing what I was saying. “You mean like… property?”

“That’s how the outside world would see it,” I acknowledged. “In reality, it’s more complicated. A woman who belongs to a member is under his protection. She wears his patch, follows certain rules, and in return, she gets the security of the entire club standing behind her. Think of it like a marriage but without the legal crap.”

Zara was silent for a long moment, her fingers tapping against her soda can. “And if I don’t agree to… belong to someone?”

“Then you can’t stay at the compound,” I said simply. “I’d help you find somewhere safe to stay while we look for your mother, but it wouldn’t be here.”

She looked around the room, taking in the club members scattered throughout, the women by their sides. Across the room, I spotted Janessa with Irish. Looked like she was giving him hell in hushed tones, probably because of the club girl eyeing him like a steak.

“These women,” she said quietly. “They’ve agreed to this? To being someone’s property?”

“The one in the property cut has. The others are free game for anyone,” I corrected. “Many of them came from bad situations -- abusive relationships, dangerous family dynamics. The club offers them safety, stability. In return, they accept certain roles and rules.”

Zara’s gaze found mine again. “And who would I belong to? Just… anyone who wants me?”

I shook my head firmly. “No. That’s not how it works. You’d have a choice in who claims you, if anyone. No woman is forced into a relationship she doesn’t want.”

“But I’d have to choose someone, or leave.”

“Yes.”

She fell silent again, her gaze dropping to the table. I could see her weighing her options, thinking through the implications of what I was telling her. Part of me wanted to make it easier for her -- to tell her she didn’t have to decide right away, that we could figure something out. But that would be a lie, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t lie to her.

“What about you?” she asked suddenly, her eyes lifting to meet mine.

The question caught me off guard. “What about me?”

“Could I…” She hesitated, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “Could I be yours? Would you claim me?”

Something tightened in my chest at her words. It had been a long time since anyone had asked to be mine -- a long time since I’d considered allowing it. When I’d lost the only woman I’d cared about, aside from my mother, I’d sworn to never let anyone that close again.

But Zara was already in danger. Already connected to me through her search for help. And if I was honest with myself, there was something about her that pulled at me -- a strength beneath her vulnerability that I found myself drawn to.

“Is that what you want?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. “To be mine?”

She didn’t answer immediately, which I respected. This wasn’t a decision to be made lightly.

“I came to you for help,” she said finally. “When I heard about you, about what you do for women in trouble, I knew I had to find you. And now you’re offering to help find my mother, to protect me. If the choice is between belonging to you or leaving the compound, then yes, I choose you.”

“If it’s because you want to be close and can’t afford a motel…” I trailed off, not really sure what I was offering. Money? Or just making sure this was what she really wanted.

“While it’s true I don’t want to go home and wish to remain close, it’s more than that. I wasn’t in your town long before I was attacked. If you hadn’t happened by at the right moment, I might very well be dead right now. Or wishing I was.”

“Plenty of people walk around this place without getting into trouble. But if someone really did snatch your mom, and they know about you, it’s possible they could be waiting to grab you as well. Just speculation since there’s shit we don’t know about the situation yet.”

“I feel safe when I’m with you,” she said softly.

I studied her face, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear. I saw uncertainty, yes, but also determination. She’d made her decision with eyes open.

“You understand what it means?” I pressed. “In the eyes of the club, you’d be my woman. My responsibility. The outside world would see you as my property. And it wouldn’t be a temporary thing. Like I said, it’s similar to a marriage. There’s no backing out once it’s done.”

“I understand.” She lifted her chin slightly. “Would I have to… share your bed?”

Another complicated question. The relationship usually included physical intimacy. But there were exceptions -- arrangements of convenience or protection that didn’t involve sex. Maybe not in my club, but I’d heard of others doing something similar. Although, most ended up falling in love at some point.

“Not if you don’t want to,” I said honestly. “We can take our time, get to know one another better. But let me just put this out there. The men in this club don’t cheat on their women. So, if you never come to my bed, be prepared for a grumpy-ass old man because I’ll have blue balls.”

Something flickered in her eyes -- relief, perhaps, or maybe something else entirely. “And if I stay with you, I’ll be safe while you look for my mother?”

“As safe as I can make you,” I promised. “Which is safer than anywhere else you could be right now.”

She nodded slowly, seeming to come to a final decision. “Then I want to be yours, Azrael.”

I felt something shift inside me at her words -- a door opening that I’d kept firmly closed for years. It was unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome.

“If that’s what you want,” I said, giving her a slow smile, “then yeah, I can make that happen.”

Zara returned my smile, tentative but genuine. “What happens now?”

“Now, I talk to Charming, make it official. You’ll get a property cut -- something that shows you’re under my protection.” I leaned back in my chair. “And tomorrow, we start looking for your mother.”

A shadow crossed her face at the mention of Mazida. “Do you really think we’ll find her?”

“Yes,” I said, with more certainty than I perhaps felt. “The club has resources most people can’t imagine. If your mother is out there, we’ll find her.”

I didn’t add the darker possibility -- that we might find her too late. Zara didn’t need to hear that, not when hope was the only thing keeping her going.

She reached across the table, her hand hesitantly covering mine. “Thank you. For everything.”

I turned my hand over, clasping hers briefly before releasing it. Public displays of affection weren’t my style, especially in the clubhouse where every interaction was noted and discussed later.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, rising from my chair. “This is just the beginning. Wait here. I need to speak with Charming, make our arrangement official.”

Zara Colton was now my responsibility -- my woman, in the eyes of the club. I’d sworn I wouldn’t let anyone get that close again, wouldn’t risk another innocent life because of my lifestyle, my enemies.

But sometimes life didn’t give you the choices you wanted. Sometimes it only offered the least bad option, and you had to take it.

I glanced back at Zara, sitting alone at the table, her posture straight despite the exhaustion I knew she must be feeling. She’d come to me because she believed I could help her, believed in the stories she’d heard about the avenging angel who protected women in trouble.

Now I had to live up to that reputation -- had to find her mother and keep Zara safe in the process.

And I had to do it all without letting her get too close, without letting her become the kind of weakness my enemies could exploit.

It was going to be a delicate balance. But as I caught Charming’s eye across the room and saw him nod in acknowledgment, I knew there was no turning back. Zara Colton was mine now, for better or worse.

And God help anyone who tried to hurt what was mine.