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Page 30 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, but I don’t look up.

Not yet. There’s too much at stake. And if she asks me again, I know I’m likely to tell her everything, but something tells me she’s not ready for it.

Not yet. My fingers tighten around hers, grounding me, though my mind races ahead, thinking of everything that still needs to be done.

Hannah’s gaze presses on me, her eyes heavy with expectation as she waits for my response. The silence stretches, broken only by Scout’s voice. “Hannah, is it okay if I get rid of your mattress for you?” he asks, his tone light, trying to ease the tension in the room.

“If it’s no trouble? Otherwise, I can do it,” she replies, her voice still a little shaky but grateful for the offer.

Scout’s smile is easy. “Prophet left his truck so I can easily dispose of the mattress. But what about the sheets and stuff? Do you want to keep those?”

Hannah doesn’t hesitate. She shakes her head. “No, no, take it all, including the rug.” Her eyes flicker back to me before she sighs, shoulders sagging slightly. “It’ll be impossible to get clean, and I don’t want to have to do it.”

I nod, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes. She’s been through enough today, and this is just one more thing to take off her plate.

“We’ll get it handled, Hannah. Don’t worry about it.” Scout gives a short nod, turning to leave, but not before adding, “I’ll make sure it’s gone. You can relax.”

“Do you need help?” Hannah asks, her voice soft but genuine.

“No, he’s fine. Rooster is coming to help. He won’t be far away.” I slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer, offering whatever comfort I can in this moment. “Can I make you a tea?”

Hannah laughs, a light sound that cuts through the heaviness. “No. I’ll make it.”

I raise an eyebrow, confused. “What’s so funny?”

She looks up at me, her lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “Do you even know how?”

Truthfully, I don’t. I’m not exactly the tea-making type, but how hard can it be? It’s just hot water and a bag, right?

I shrug, pretending to be unbothered. “I’m sure I’ve handled worse.”

She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m here, or you’d probably just end up boiling the kettle and calling it ‘tea.’ ”

I smirk, squeezing her shoulder slightly. “Make you a deal... I’ll make sure you don’t starve, and I’ll leave the tea-making to you.”

“Teamwork?”

“That’s it, babe.”

Hannah stands up from the table, her movements slow and deliberate as she walks into the kitchen.

“Give us a hand, Prez?” Scout asks, his voice steady, but I catch the way his eyes flick to the bloody mess at the end of the hall.

“Sure. Babe, stay here, yeah?” I glance over my shoulder at Hannah, who’s still standing in the kitchen.

She looks as if she wants to argue but then nods. Hannah folds her arms and leans against the counter.

Inside the bedroom, Scout’s already kneeling beside the mattress, eyes scanning the blood-soaked sheets. The stench of it is overwhelming. Scout doesn’t say anything for a second, just taking it in, probably doing what I’m doing, trying to piece together what the hell happened here.

“Do you get a sense of anything?” he asks, his voice low, a touch of caution in it. He’s trying to figure out if we missed something.

Shaking my head, I say, “No. Not even a scent. The blood covers it all. It’s all I can smell.”

“Me too,” Scout mutters, glancing under the bed, his brow furrowed as he checks for anything that doesn’t belong. “If you hold up the bed, I can pull the rug out.”

I look at the blood-soaked mattress. There’s not much left to salvage, but we can at least clear the mess. I step forward, my boots heavy on the floor as I crouch next to the bed. “Ready when you are.”

Scout positions himself, ready to pull the rug out, his jaw set in that quiet determination of his. He’s not asking questions, not looking for answers. He’s just getting shit done, and that’s exactly what I need right now.

With one arm, I lift the bed. The weight of it is nothing, but the sight of what we’re working with feels heavier than it should.

He pulls it out from under the bed in one fluid movement, a well-rehearsed maneuver. Scout’s hands move quickly as he rolls up the rug, making it easier to carry outside.

“I’ll get the sheets and stuff. Together, we can carry out the mattress.”

Scout nods at me as he walks out of the house, the rolled-up rug slung over his shoulder, the weight not bothering him at all.

I bend down, stripping the blood-soaked sheets from the bed and roll them into a ball to avoid spilling anything on the floor. Once it’s all bundled up, I follow Scout out the door and toward the truck.

We toss the blood-soaked bedding and rug into the back of the truck with a grunt.

The sound of a rumbling engine cuts through the tension.

Rooster pulls up on his bike. He hops off, striding over to us with that casual swagger of his.

But when he leans over to look in the truck bed, his face twists with disgust.

“Jesus!” Rooster mutters, eyes scanning the mess.

Scout immediately shoots him a warning glance. “Don’t say that around Prophet.”

“As if I fucking would.” Rooster straightens up, looking between Scout and me. “Prophet looked like death warmed over.”

“Yeah, he helped Grace,” I say, my voice flat.

“Grace?” Rooster’s brow furrows as he tries to make sense of it.

“Hannah’s cat,” I reply.

“A fucking cat?” Rooster laughs—it’s not really a laugh but more a disbelieving exhale. He shakes his head, clearly baffled. “What happened to all that ‘God’s will’ and ‘toughen up’ bullshit?”

“He must have felt she needed saving,” I say.

I’m already heading back toward the house to get back to Hannah, but Rooster’s voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“Or he did it to get in your good graces.” His words hit harder than he probably intended.

I turn, slow and deliberate, narrowing my eyes at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Rooster meets my gaze with that cocky smirk of his, but there’s an edge to his expression now, something darker. “I can see you’re mated to this woman from here. Hell, I can smell it on you.” He sneers, taking a step back as if he’s trying to keep his distance.

The smirk on his face doesn’t sit right with me. He’s pushing buttons, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Without thinking, I step into his space, my chest nearly brushing against his. “And what the fuck does that have to do with you?” My voice is low and dangerous, a warning he doesn’t seem to be picking up on.

Rooster takes a quick step back, his hands up in surrender. “N-nothing. Just making an observation is all.” His bravado falters, but there’s still that stubbornness in his eyes.

I stand my ground, refusing to back down. “You keep your observations to yourself. Hannah is human and isn’t in our world. Not yet.” My words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of us.

Rooster scoffs, but I can see the doubt creeping into his gaze. “You’re going to bring her in?” There’s a flicker of surprise on his face, mixed with something else—disgust, maybe. He doesn’t get it, and that pisses me off even more.

Before I can respond, Scout steps between us, cutting off whatever was about to come next.

“Rooster, shut your fucking mouth for once. If our president is mated, of course, he’s going to bring her into our world.

” His tone is calm, but there’s a steel edge to it that even Rooster knows not to argue with.

Scout looks at me, his gaze softening just a bit.

“We’ll get the mattress and clean up the mess.

” His words are final as if he’s already moved past the tension, but I can feel the storm still brewing in my chest.

“What?” Rooster’s voice rises, clearly caught off-guard, but there’s nothing more to say now.

Scout holds up a finger to him, cutting him off with a gesture. “You should take Hannah and Grace back to your home or the compound, whatever you think is best.”

Rooster stares at him for a second, then glances at me, but it’s clear he’s not getting involved any more than he has to.

“Thanks, Scout.” I don’t wait for him to say anything else.

Hannah is still waiting inside, and there’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight until we know who the hell tried to kill her cat.

In LA, she was alone—vulnerable, with no one to watch her back.

But that’s not the case anymore. Here in Alaska, it’s different.

She’s found me, and I come with the Kings of Anarchy.

If anyone thinks they can get to her, they’ll have to answer to me and the rest of the club. She’s mine now.