Page 30 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)

“Year Lyra went ‘missing.’ Fourteen months, to be exact. Family claimed she was homeschooled after an ‘illness.’ Except the hospital logs show her checked in under an alias—stayed for almost two whole weeks. OB ward, noted as ‘not medical’—whatever that means.”

My blood ran cold.

Crypt leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Then there’s this.” He tapped the sealed record. “Family court filing. Adoption, closed case. Records sealed by a judge who just happened to play golf with her old man every Saturday.”

I stared at the paper, my hand flexing hard enough to crumple the edge.

“Adoption?” I repeated, my voice flat.

“Yeah.” Keeper’s gaze sharpened. “And whatever’s in there, it’s locked tighter than a Covenant vault. It took a lot of digging to find that.”

My forehead pinched as I read the contents. Lily was adopted?

Chest tight, I shoved the papers back in the envelope and sat in silence for a long moment. The pieces were starting to click, but not all the way. Not yet.

“Good work,” I muttered finally. My fangs ached as I ground my teeth together. “Keep digging. But no one—no one—knows a thing.”

Crypt’s eyes flicked over me, wolf-sharp and knowing. He cocked one dark brow. “You think she’s dangerous, or just dangerous to your heart?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because deep down, I already knew the truth was both.

* * *

Lily’s laugh carried down the clubhouse hall, quick and light. Too light. I leaned against the wall and watched from a distance as Lyra brushed her sister’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear like she’d done it a thousand times before. Too careful. Too… maternal. My spine stiffened.

I took in Lyra’s curly red hair and Lily’s blonde locks. They smiled and it was like mirror smiles. If Lily was adopted, then why did they look so much alike? Which relative could be… I froze.

I’d seen sisters before. I’d seen mothers. And what Lyra had in her eyes wasn’t the same as what most sisters carried. It was fiercer. Protective to the point of pain.

When Lily hugged her, Lyra bent down instinctively, pressing her lips to the top of her head like she’d done it when the girl was small. My chest tightened.

Sister, my ass. I think I had an idea who their parents had adopted Lily from. It also explained why Lyra had approached her “sister’s” disappearance with such determined, yet reckless abandon.

Lyra looked up then, catching me watching. For a split second, her mask slipped—her eyes wide, guilt flashing before she smoothed it over with a small, practiced smile.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice too steady.

“Fine,” I replied, pushing off the wall and walking toward them. I let my eyes flick over Lily, then back to Lyra. “You two good here?”

“Yes.” Lyra’s answer came too fast. Too sharp.

I didn’t press. Not then. But I filed it away.

* * *

Later, when it was just the two of us in my room, the tension had nowhere else to go. Lyra sat on the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. I caught the scent of her nerves—sweet, sharp, impossible to ignore.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she softly observed.

“Watching,” I admitted. My tone came out rougher than I meant.

“Watching what?” she asked, but her voice cracked just a little. She knew.

“You.” I stepped closer, eyes locked on hers. “You and Lily.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “What about us?”

“You love her like she’s yours,” I said flatly.

Lyra froze, her hand tightening on the fabric in her lap. “She is mine. My sister. I’ve been raising her for the last four years by myself.”

But her pulse betrayed her. A rapid, uneven staccato beat I could hear from across the room. I closed the distance between us, crouching in front of her so she had no escape from my gaze.

“Your heart says otherwise,” I murmured as I pressed my index finger to her pounding heart.

She jerked back as if I’d struck her, eyes glistening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” I challenged, my voice low. “You can lie to anyone else, Lyra. But not to me.”

For a long moment, she just stared at me, lips trembling with words she wouldn’t say. Then she broke the stare, turning her head away.

That was all the answer I needed.

Her silence pressed down on me heavier than any blade. I wanted to rip the truth from her, but the way her hands shook in her lap stopped me. She wasn’t ready to give it, not yet. And the longer I looked at her, the more I hated myself for even thinking about forcing it.

I reached up, caught her chin between my fingers, and tilted her face back toward mine. “You don’t trust me with it yet. Fine. But know this, Lyra—I see you. And I’ll protect you, whether you hand me the truth or not.”

Her eyes glistened, wide and raw. “You don’t understand?—”

“Then make me understand,” I demanded, my voice firmer than I intended, but instead of flinching, she leaned into my hand like she was starved for the contact. That undid me more than any lie ever could.

Before I could think better of it, I kissed her—slow, claiming, demanding all the things she wouldn’t give me with words. She gave them with her body instead, parting her lips, clutching at my cut like she needed the strength of it to stay grounded.

Her breath hitched against my mouth when I pushed her back onto the mattress, following her down, bracing myself above her with one hand while the other skimmed her hip. Heat roared between us, heavy and consuming.

“You’re trouble,” I muttered against her throat, tasting the salt of her skin—wanting so much more than that.

“So are you,” she whispered, arching into me.

And that was it. The dam broke and swept us away.

This time, I took her slow, like I had all the time in the world, like if I went too fast she’d disappear. Every kiss, every touch was deliberate, a silent vow I hadn’t yet spoken. She clung to me like she needed the escape as badly as I did, her moans muffled against my shoulder.

The heat of her tight pussy around my cock was like fire to my soul.

She gripped me like she was made to—then again, she was.

Her breathing became rapid, and soft pants left her parted lips as I watched her ecstasy creeping in.

I waited for it to hit, needing her to find her release before I could consider mine.

“Calix!” she cried out, her fingers holding my shoulders in a bruising grip. Her arousal blossomed, and I inhaled it like the scent of the sweetest flower. By the time she screamed and her walls squeezed my cock, her scent seemed to fill the room—powerful and beautiful in its fragrance.

Only then, as her perfect little cunt pulsed around my shaft, did I allow myself to come. The force and pleasure blew me away every time. This one was no different. It left me in awe, as it had been ages since it had been good—yet never had it been like this.

When it was over and we both returned to Earth from where we’d launched into the stars, she curled into me.

Her head rested against my chest, her breath still uneven.

I held her tighter than I should have, staring at the ceiling while the truth I didn’t want pressed against me like a blade to my ribs.

She was mine. My mate. My woman.

There was no way I was going to be able to let her go—yet there was only one way that guaranteed I wouldn’t have to. That still wasn’t something I was prepared for.

And she was hiding something big enough to tear us both apart.