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"Let me talk to Duke first. Make sure we can lock down security. But hopefully, yes." He cupped my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Stay aware. If anything feels off, even a little bit, you find me or one of the brothers immediately."

"I promise." I turned my head to kiss his palm. "Thank you for understanding. For not just forbidding it."

"I'm your Daddy, not your jailer." He gave me an unreasonably sexy smile. “I’m gonna send Duke a message, then we head to church.”

T he clubhouse hummed with unusual energy when we arrived the next morning, bikes lined up like soldiers awaiting orders. I'd been here enough times to recognize the difference—this wasn't lazy morning bullshitting over coffee. This was pre-mission tension, the kind that made the air feel electric.

"Stay close," Dex murmured, hand firm on my lower back as we headed inside.

The main room was almost entirely full. Brothers clustered in small groups, voices low and urgent. Maps spread across tables. Duke stood at the center of it all, directing traffic with the easy authority of a general preparing for war.

He looked up when we entered, and something passed between him and Dex—entire conversations in a glance.

"Cleo." Duke's voice carried warmth despite the tension. "Heard you need some security for a charity thing Saturday."

"If it's not too much trouble," I said, suddenly feeling small among all these warriors planning God knew what. "It's just a toy sale, but Dex thought—"

"Dex thought right." Duke cut me off gently. "Can't be too careful with Serpents crawling around. I'll assign a couple prospects, make sure you've got eyes on you all day."

"Prospects?" Thor's voice boomed from across the room. "Fuck that. I'll do it myself."

Everyone turned to stare at the massive Viking, who crossed his arms defensively. "What? I like kids. And those shelter families deserve better than prospects playing dress-up."

"You want to volunteer at a charity toy sale?" Tyson's voice held the kind of disbelief usually reserved for aliens landing. "You. Voluntarily. Around children and civilians."

"Got a problem with that?" Thor's glare could have melted steel, but I caught the embarrassment underneath. The big scary biker who didn't want anyone knowing he had a soft spot.

"No problem at all," Duke said smoothly. "Actually, it's perfect. Thor handles visible security. Makes a statement anyone watching will understand."

"I'll bring some of the club wives," Tyson offered, already typing on his phone. "Lena definitely. Maybe Amanda. Good for crowd control, and they'll actually enjoy it."

"The timing works for our timeline," Duke said, and though he was looking at me, I knew the words were meant for Dex. "Gives us perfect cover for positioning."

"Multiple birds, one stone," someone muttered from the map table.

"Should be wrapped up before civilians are at risk," Thor added, and now I knew they weren't talking about the charity drive at all.

"You sure about the timing?" Dex's voice had gone tight. "Having Cleo there when—"

"She'll be safer with us than anywhere else," Duke interrupted firmly. His eyes found mine, deadly serious. "Surrounded by brothers, in a public place, with legitimate reason for heavy security presence. If Rattler's planning something, better it happens where we can control the variables."

"Control the variables," I repeated softly. "You think he'll come."

"We think he'll send someone," Duke corrected. "Test our defenses. See how we've positioned you. The charity drive gives us home field advantage—our territory, our terms, witnesses everywhere."

The full picture clicked into place. They weren't just providing security for a toy sale. They were using it as bait, drawing out whatever play my father had planned. And I was the cheese in the trap.

"Perimeter established by oh-seven-hundred," someone said from the map table. "Two-block radius, all access points covered."

"Archer's team takes the north—"

"Surveillance on the community center starts tomorrow—"

"If they're smart, they'll wait until she's moving between—"

Fragments of planning floated past me, pieces of a puzzle I could almost see. Saturday wasn't just about raising money for the shelter. It was D-Day, the culmination of whatever war had been brewing since my father made contact.

"Hey." Dex's hand found mine, squeezing gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I forced a smile. "Just processing. It's a lot."

"We've got you," Thor said, and coming from him it sounded like a blood oath. "Nobody's touching you on my watch. I don't give a fuck whose DNA you share."

The crude comfort of it actually helped. These men, these dangerous, complicated men, had chosen to stand between me and my father. Had chosen to make my safety their mission.

"Thank you," I said, meaning it. "All of you. I know this complicates things."

"Family's always complicated," Duke said simply. "And we protect our own."

The conversation shifted to operational details I wasn't meant to hear—patrol routes, communication protocols, contingency plans with code names that meant nothing to me. Dex guided me to the bar, putting distance between me and the war planning.

"Scared?" he asked quietly.

"Terrified," I admitted. "But also grateful. Is that weird?"

"Not weird at all." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Saturday's going to be intense. But when it's over, when we've dealt with your father, you'll finally be free. Really free."

Free. The word sat strange in my mouth. I'd been running from my father's shadow for so long, I couldn't imagine what freedom would feel like.

"What if something goes wrong?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "What if someone gets hurt because of me?"

"Then we handle it." His certainty was absolute. "That's what we do. That's what family does."

L ater, back at the apartment, I was struggling. Anxiety kept rising in my chest, fear and worry working together to make me tremble. Dex, of course, noticed. His hand found my back and his voice took on that particular tone that meant he was taking over.

"Come on, little one. You need this tonight."

He was right. The weight of everything—Saturday looming, my father's shadow, the knowledge that violence was coming—pressed down on me like a physical thing.

I needed to be somewhere else. Someone else.

Someone small and protected who didn't have to worry about bait and traps and family that wanted to hurt her.

My special space had grown over the past week, expanding from a corner to nearly half the living room.

Soft blue blankets in every shade from powder to navy created a nest of comfort.

The low bookshelf he'd built himself held picture books sorted by size, coloring supplies in mason jars, art supplies organized with military precision.

And the stuffed animals. God, the stuffed animals.

Mr. Friendly held court from his throne of pillows, but he'd been joined by a whole crew.

A purple elephant with floppy ears. A dragon whose wings crinkled when squeezed.

A teddy bear in a Heavy Kings vest that Thor had brought by, grumbling about it being a joke while his eyes stayed soft.

A giraffe that was gangly but graceful, and had the most beautiful eyelashes.

Each one carefully chosen, each one mine.

"Pajamas first," Dex instructed, already pulling out my favorite set—soft cotton with little moons and stars, fabric worn to perfect softness from washing.

I changed without hesitation, no shame in being vulnerable here. This was our space, our rules. Outside, I had to be twenty-two and brave and ready for whatever came. In here, I could be exactly as small as I felt.

"Good girl," he murmured when I emerged, and the praise settled into my bones like warmth. "Now, what does my little one want to do tonight? Coloring? Stories? Both?"

"Both," I decided, already reaching for the newest coloring book—fairy tales with intricate borders that required total focus. "Will you read while I color?"

"Of course." He settled us into the nest of blankets, me curled between his legs with my back against his chest, coloring book propped on a lap desk he'd bought specifically for nights like this. "Which story?"

"The one about the princess who saves herself."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "That's my brave girl. Always choosing the stories where the princess doesn't wait for rescue."

I selected my colors carefully—purples and blues for the princess's dress, because those were brave colors. Strong colors. Dex's voice washed over me as he read, deep and steady, turning the familiar story into something new.

The princess in the story was clever. When the dragon came, she didn't scream or faint. She negotiated. When the tower proved too tall to climb down, she made a rope from curtains. When bandits blocked her path, she outsmarted them with riddles.

"She sounds like you," Dex murmured during a pause, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Too smart to wait for saving."

"But she wasn't alone," I pointed out, switching to gold for the dragon who became her friend. "She made allies. Built her own family."

"Also like you."

I twisted to look up at him. "You think I'm brave?"

"I think you're the bravest person I know.

" His arms tightened around me. "You survived things that would break most people.

Took care of your mom when you were just a kid yourself.

Faced your father's threats to protect me.

Told me the things that you were most ashamed of.

If that's not brave, I don't know what is. "

"But I'm scared about Saturday." The admission came out small, muffled against his chest. "What if something goes wrong? What if people get hurt?"

"Being scared doesn't mean you're not brave," he said gently. "Brave means doing what needs to be done despite the fear. And you've been doing that your whole life."

I went back to coloring, but my movements were slower now, processing his words. The princess on the page stood tall despite being surrounded by dangers—dragons, bandits, storms. Just like I'd stand tall Saturday, surrounded by different kinds of threats.

"Whatever happens Saturday," Dex continued, his voice taking on that protective edge that made me feel invincible, "you remember this. Remember that you're loved, that you're protected, that you have people who would burn the world down before they'd let anything happen to you."

"Including you?"

"Especially me." His hand covered mine on the crayon, steadying my suddenly shaky grip. "Your father thinks he can use fear to control you, but he doesn't understand what we've built. Doesn't understand that you're not alone anymore."

I abandoned the coloring to turn fully in his arms, needing to see his face. "I'm not scared anymore," I realized, and it was true. "Not of him. Not of Saturday. Not of any of it."

"No?"

"No." I traced the line of his jaw, marveling at how one person could make me feel so safe. "Because I can handle anything. And I’m never going to face it alone."

He caught my hand, pressed a kiss to my palm. "That's my little one. So brave, even when she doesn't feel it."

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" I gestured to our nest of blankets and safety. "Not in bed, but here? I want to fall asleep listening to your heartbeat."

"Nowhere I'd rather be."

He adjusted us carefully, stretching out among the pillows and stuffed animals with me tucked against his side.

Mr. Friendly got pride of place between us, keeping watch like a fuzzy guardian.

The fairy tale book lay abandoned, but I didn't need stories anymore.

Not when reality had become better than any fairy tale.

"Dex?" I whispered into the soft darkness.

"Yeah, baby?"

"After Saturday, after everything with my father is handled, can we expand my little space more? Maybe add a reading nook?"

His chest shook with silent laughter. "Already planning renovations?"

"I want it to be perfect," I admitted. "Our perfect space where I can be little and you can take care of me and nobody can touch us."

"Then that's what we'll build." He pulled one of the soft blue blankets over us, cocoon-like and warm. "Whatever you need to feel safe and loved and mine."

I fell asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, surrounded by proof that I was loved—every stuffed animal, every carefully chosen book, every soft blanket a testament to how much he cared. Outside our windows, the world spun on with all its dangers and complications.

But here in our little space, wrapped in blue and safety and each other, we were untouchable. And tomorrow, when I woke up, I'd still be his brave little girl.

Ready for whatever came next.