Page 62 of Held-

“Your world.” I sit up straighter, pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch to wrap around myself. “The club. The parts of your life you can share.”

His expression shifts, wariness replacing the relaxed intimacy of moments before. “Why?”

“Because it's part of who you are.” I reach out to trace the outline of the raven tattooed on his shoulder. “I don't want to be kept in some separate box, away from everything that matters to you.”

“The club isn't a tourist attraction, princess. It's not something you visit like a petting zoo.”

“I'm not asking to pet anything. I'm asking to understand the man I'm...” I hesitate, not sure how to finish that sentence. Sleeping with? Living with? Falling for?

Brayden watches me struggle, clearly entertained by every second I spend trying to articulate my feelings for him. Bastard. “The man… you’re what?”

“The man I'm choosing,” I finally say, because it's the truest thing I can offer right now.

Brayden studies me for a long time, unreadable, as though he’s weighing whether I truly mean every word. The silence stretches until I start to think he’s going to shut the whole idea down.

Then he nods once—slow, deliberate. “I need to check in at the clubhouse anyway. Might be a good change of scenery for you.”

A flicker of warmth stirs in my chest. “So you’ll take me?”

He exhales through his nose, the sound carrying a hint of resignation. “Yeah. I’ll take you.”

Some part of me already knows I’ve just agreed to far more than a ride.

BRAYDEN

I realizeI've made a terrible fucking mistake the second we roll into the clubhouse lot.

The parking area is already packed with bikes and cars—way too many for a regular Thursday night. Bass thumps through the walls loud enough that I can feel it vibrating in my chest even outside. A couple of hang-arounds are smoking by the entrance, shirtless, despite the chill in the air, red plastic cups in their hands. One of them wolf-whistles as I cut the engine.

Fuck. Me. Running.

I feel Cece's hands tighten around my waist as she takes in the scene. The neon sign above the door casts an eerie red glow across her face when she pulls off her helmet.

“Is it always this...lively?” she asks, her voice careful. Too careful.

“No,” I mutter, helping her off the bike. “It's not.”

I shouldn't have agreed to this. Not tonight. Not when she's still on edge from the blowout with her father. Not when we haven't even defined whatever the hell this thing between us is. I planned to introduce her to the club slowly. Maybe bring her by during the day when it's just the brothers hanging around, playing pool, talking shit. Not during what sounds like a full-blown rave.

“We can turn around,” I offer, already knowing what her answer will be. I've learned enough about her to recognize the mile-long stubborn streak she has.

Cece straightens her spine and squares her shoulders. I recognize that look by now. She is about to walk straight into hell and dare the devil to blink first.

“No,” she says, sliding her hand into mine. “I want to see.”

I inhale deeply, trying to ignore the warning bells clanging in my head. “Alright. But we stick together. And if I say it's time to go, we go. No questions.”

She nods, clearly trying to project confidence, but her grip on my hand tightens as we approach the entrance. The hang-arounds straighten when they spot me, their attention shifting from my face to Cece with undisguised interest.

“Bray,” one of them nods, his gaze lingering on Cece a beat too long. “Didn't expect to see you tonight.”

“Wasn't planning on it,” I reply, moving slightly to block his view of her. “Big inside?”

“Yeah, man. Everybody is.” He grins, revealing a missing tooth. “Surprise party for Domino. His old lady set it up.”

Fuck. A surprise party. That explains the crowd and the noise. Domino's girlfriend, Tasha, has been planning this for weeks, and I completely forgot about it in the Cece-induced fog I've been living in.

“Come on,” I mutter, steering Cece toward the door. We push through, and the clubhouse slams into us—a full-force hurricane of bad decisions waiting to happen. Smoke hangs thick in the air, booze spills across every surface, and the music pounds hard enough to rattle my teeth.