Page 35 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

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Blade

T he clubhouse has an upper level where we all have rooms. It’s simple, nothing flashy, but it works.

There are only two bathrooms, one at each end of the hall.

I hardly ever use my room, staying at my cabin most nights.

It’s closer to town, and if anyone runs into trouble or needs pulling out of a ditch, I can get there faster.

Hannah stands in my room, looking around, her brow furrowed, and the frown on her pretty face makes me want to fix whatever’s bothering her. Grace is in a cardboard box with holes cut out of it. Every so often, the little furball sticks a paw out and lets out a growl that’s more cute than menacing.

“If we open the window, it’ll let in some fresh air,” I suggest, gesturing toward the window that’s just beyond her.

Hannah looks at it, her lips pressed tight. She twists her hands as if she’s trying to keep herself from falling apart. “Grace will get out, and she might hurt herself jumping to the ground.”

I reach out and place both hands on her shoulders, the contact making the tension in her body shift. She doesn’t even flinch as she leans into me, resting her hands on my waist. I’ve never had anyone trust me this much, and it hits me deeper than I’m ready to admit.

“I know it’s not much, but you’re safe here, and Grace can have the run of the clubhouse. No one’s gonna bother her.”

She looks at me, her gaze soft but skeptical. “Will the others mind?”

“Why would they mind?” I give her a reassuring smile.

Hannah lowers her head and presses it to my chest, the top of her hair brushing against my chin. I can feel her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breath, and it feels as though the world has slowed down for a moment.

“They all look like they’d have huge dogs with big spikes on their collars.”

I chuckle, holding her closer. “We might look untamed, but we’d never hurt something or someone important to you.”

“Even Fury?”

I bite back another laugh, trying to keep my tone serious. “Fury runs hot, and he probably doesn’t like cats, but he won’t hurt Grace. Promise. And if he does, I’ll gut him for you.”

She lets out a bark of laughter, her eyes sparkling up at me. “That’s not very reassuring.”

I can’t help but grin. Watching her smile warms something deep inside me, pushing my darkness aside.

“Let Grace out. You keep saying she’s a good judge of character. How about we let her prove it?”

Hannah sighs dramatically, stepping back with a reluctant shake of her head. Her hands move to the top of the box, hesitating for a moment as if she’s second-guessing herself. “She won’t get outside?”

“No. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

With a long breath, she pops open the box, and Grace jumps out with the enthusiasm only a cat can manage. She lands on the bed with a soft thud, then immediately starts sniffing my pillows as if she owns the place.

“I don’t think she liked being in there.”

Hannah watches Grace with a fond smile, her shoulders relaxing as she observes her cat making herself at home. “Well, she has a carry case at home with a blanket and a mesh window to look out at the world. This was a one-time deal.”

Before I can respond, Ranger’s head pops around the doorframe, his voice breaking the moment. “Ah, Prez, can I talk to you?”

I glance at Hannah. “You good?”

She looks around the room for a moment before giving me a subtle nod. “Yep.”

I hold my arms out wide, joking, “My room is your room. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall, just take your pick.”

Ranger raises a brow, pointing down the hallway. “Hannah, use the one down that way.” He gestures to the left. “When we heard you were coming, we had Kyler clean it. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to use the other one.”

Hannah laughs a soft, melodic sound that makes me grin. “Thank Kyler for me.”

“He deserves a medal,” I agree, shaking my head. I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of Kyler’s face when he found out he had to tackle that job. “We’ll be downstairs. Make yourself at home. I’ll send Fury up when we’re done, and you can introduce him properly to Grace.”

Hannah follows me to the door, her hand lingering on the handle as if she’s not quite ready for me to leave. “Are you sure?”

Ranger smirks, leaning against the doorframe with that trademark look on his face. “He doesn’t bite much.”

“Not helping,” I mutter, giving him a sharp look.

Hannah giggles, her smile tugging at my chest. “You’re in trouble,” she says, wagging a finger at Ranger in mock seriousness. “Don’t keep us waiting too long. Grace will need a toilet break.”

She closes the door behind her, leaving me standing there with a laugh in my chest.

Ranger wrinkles his nose, looking a bit disgusted. “She means a litter box, doesn’t she?”

I can’t stop the grin from spreading. “Yes, but we don’t have one, so I guess we’re going to have to take her outside.”

Ranger raises an eyebrow. “I, for one, am grateful we don’t have one.”

“Good, that means you’re on kitty peeing duties.” I give him a look that says, ‘You’re welcome.’

Before he can protest, I turn and head down the stairs, the familiar thud of my boots echoing through the hallway.

When I reach the bottom, the entire MC is sitting around the big table, the usual chatter buzzing around the room.

It’s good to have them all here, even if the noise and chaos are a bit much sometimes.

We’re a family whether we like it or not.

I take my seat at the head of the table, nodding at the guys. “All right, what’s the word?”

Ranger sits back in his chair, his gaze steady on me. “The guy you asked me to look into?”

“Yeah?” I reply, my fingers tapping the edge of the table as I wait for him to get to the point.

“The rental car is still at the hotel, and his belongings are all untouched, but it’s clear he hasn’t been in his room for some time.”

“What do the hotel staff say?” I ask, already knowing it won’t be anything good.

“The same. He wasn’t liked, treated them as if they were servants, and he was only booked for a week. Penny, the manager, said she’s going to clean out his room and put his stuff in storage.”

“Thoughts?” I ask, leaning forward, waiting for the verdict.

Ranger looks around the room, catching everyone’s eyes as the tension rises. “Prez, there’s no sign of him. I think he’s wandered off into the woods and met his end.”

I chew on that, letting the weight of his words settle before glancing over at Azriel, sitting near the end of the table. He shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, his posture rigid.

“Something you want to share, Az?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

Azriel presses his lips into a thin line, clearly weighing his words. “One of my kind was here recently.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one who takes care of all the locals?”

“I do,” he replies, voice low. “But this one wasn’t a local.”

Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms, letting the silence stretch between us. “Let’s assume he’s dead. Did he wander off and fall into a ditch?”

Azriel shakes his head, his face unreadable. “It wasn’t a natural death.”

“How do you know?” Bodhi asks, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Azriel turns his cold gaze to him, his eyes flashing a strange intensity. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

Bodhi tilts his head, studying him with mild curiosity. “Blond hair, pale complexion, and I’ve never seen you in anything but black.”

Azriel doesn’t flinch but keeps his gaze steady.

“It’s his eyes,” Prophet says, his voice quiet but firm, a sudden chill running through the room.

Bodhi squints. “They’re blue. So what?”

Prophet exhales slowly. “Azriel only reaps the natural deaths. If he had red eyes, he’d be reaping those who’ve been murdered.

Hell, I’ve heard they sometimes whisper in your ear, urging the filth to commit their acts of depravity so they can feast on the souls who cross over.

Meanwhile, Azriel... he convinces you it’s your time to go in your sleep. ”

The room falls silent, the weight of Prophet’s words hanging in the air, but Azriel isn’t done. His voice is a low growl when he speaks again. “You think you know me, angel? Or should I say, one who was cast out?”

“Enough,” my voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

Prophet turns to me, his jaw set, eyes dark with the weight of the moment. But Azriel lingers a beat longer, a flicker of something between him and Prophet.

“You two will not lock heads again over this bullshit,” I continue, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“We are all here because we have nowhere else to go. We are all here because none of us want to be alone. We’re dangerous on our own, but together, we’ve got each other’s backs despite our differences. ”

The room goes quiet, the weight of my words hanging in the air as each man processes what I’ve just said.

“Did anyone get a sense of who fired that bean bag at my home?” I ask, my voice cutting through the stillness.

Chrome, sitting near the end of the table, speaks up. His voice is low and rough, as if he doesn’t use it often. “There’s no scent on the bag. Maybe it was just kids fucking about.”

I glance at him, watching the way his golden eyes gleam in the dim light.

Chrome has always been a mystery—one of the quieter ones in the club, but when he speaks, it’s with purpose.

His reddish hair is tied back neatly at the nape of his neck, the strands catching the light in a way that makes him look more dangerous than he lets on.

He has the build of a predator, and despite his lack of words, his presence is imposing.

He’s not one for socializing, that much is clear.

His transition into the club wasn’t easy—he’s always kept to himself, preferring the solitude of his thoughts over the camaraderie of the group.

But I’ve seen the way he defends the people he cares about without a second thought and how he reacts when one of us is in danger.

When it comes down to it, Chrome will always have your back.