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He took his sister in. Made sure she was safe. Looked out for her.

He didn’t ship Molly off to another relative like I did to Jezzie.

Didn’t abandon her like I did to Cain.

Well, Cain had a mother. Still, I tried to pretend the kid didn’t even exist.

Christ, I’m not this deep. Don’t usually give this many fucks about untangling my issues. Never have.

I take another pull from the bottle, shake my head, and stare through the open door like I might find an answer out on The Strip. I should head back to the hotel. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long one.

“What’s up, bestie?” Shelby drawls. She elbows me, bumping her hip into mine, warm and insistent until I shift over.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, grateful for the distraction.

“I want to get out of the booth.” She fans her hand in front of her face. “It’s hot as blazes in here.”

“You’re from Texas.”

“Yeah, but this is dry heat.” She sticks her tongue out. “Ain’t the same.”

“Fair enough.” I stand and help her out of the booth.

Rooster slides out next. “I can’t wait to be done with this,” he says against my ear.

“Same, bro.”

Fight night can’t come soon enough.

MARGOT

Am I really going to the clubhouse by myself?

Jigsaw promised tonight was strictly family. Then Lilly called early in the morning to make sure I was coming. She offered a guest room in their cabin on the club’s property so I wouldn’t have to drive all the way home after the fight ends.

Older or not, Jigsaw’s 4Runner handles better than my Thunderbird. Especially up the steep driveway leading to Upstate’s secluded clubhouse.

The parking lot’s full. Big trucks. SUVs. Motorcycles.

Seeing all of them makes me miss Jigsaw even more.

I pull my phone out and send him a quick text.

Me: At the clubhouse.

Sparky greets me as I step down from the truck. A big grin on his placid face. “You made it.”

“I did. I can’t believe I found the place without Jigsaw.”

He holds up a thin, brown paper bag. “Treats for the fights.” His forehead scrunches. “Fights are really bloody. You might want to be high to watch.”

I take the bag and slip it into my purse. “I don’t know if I’m falling for that again.”

Last time I ate one of Sparky’s THC-laced masterpieces I had Jigsaw to protect me while I floated in and out of consciousness at Teller’s wedding.

He nods solemnly. “That one was, uh, nuclear. This? Just a little kick.” He waggles his hand. “Maybe save it for when Jigsaw’s back, just in case.”

I squint at him. “Define ‘little kick.’”

He shrugs, already turning toward the clubhouse.

Laughing to myself, I open the back door and pull out the long Tupperware container of THC-free black and white cookies I made.

The low thump of bass and muffled crowd noise from the big-screen TV hits me first. The clubhouse living room’s been transformed—extra recliners, beanbags, blankets spread out on the floor, all angled toward the massive flat screen on the wall. Snacks and drinks at the bar by the door.

On the screen, two men are circling each other inside a cage. One’s already bleeding, a red river streaming down the side of his face.

“Wait, did I miss it?” My voice comes out more anxious than I intend.

“Oh, Margot!” Hope appears like the fairy godmother of the clubhouse—graceful, composed, and welcoming.

A warm smile lights up her face as she hurries over and pulls me into a soft, reassuring hug.

“I’m so glad you made it.” She waves a hand at the television.

“No, this is one of the early fights. They’re going all day. Griff’s is last.”

“If you want something more mellow, let me know,” Sparky says to me, then wanders over to a nest of blankets piled on the floor with a couple of the other brothers I vaguely recognize.

He flops down flat on his stomach like a teenager at a sleepover.

His gaze locks on the screen, already half-lost in the action.

Hope throws a fond smile his way and shakes her head, her dark red hair sliding over the shoulder of her cozy purple sweater.

I hold up the container in my hands. “I brought black and white cookies.”

Her green eyes light with genuine interest. “Oooo.” She rubs her hands together. “Thank you. I only got to try one at the bonfire. They were so good.”

She takes the container, nudging aside a few items on the bar to make room. Without hesitation, she plucks a few cookies out, setting them on a napkin.

Warmth shoots through me. Silly as it is, now I’m ridiculously proud I remembered to make them last night. At least I brought something one person will enjoy.

Lilly walks down the long hallway from the dining room, spots me, and waves.

“There you are.” She crosses the room with a warm smile, pausing just long enough to hold out her arms in silent question. When I step forward, she wraps me in a soft, full-body squeeze.

Overwhelmed by all the affection. I pull back and yank my face into a smile.

“We’ve got more food set up in the dining room if you’re hungry.” Lilly leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “A lot of us are hanging out down there with the kids. This,” she waves a hand toward the screen, “is a little much for them.”

“Yeah, I can, uh, see why.” The guys on the screen are now wrestling on the floor of the cage. The two men are tangled in a violent knot on the mat. Their bodies so tightly pressed together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Hope turns, her gaze scanning everyone in the living room. “Oh, Teller’s placing bets if that’s something you’re interested in.”

My gaze lands on Teller’s long frame, folded into one corner of the couch, a laptop balanced on the armrest. Charlotte’s curled up next to him, legs tucked beneath her, calmly watching the chaos unfold on-screen while talking to her husband.

Rock’s settled in the chair beside them, eyes fixed on Teller’s screen.

Every so often, he nods or shakes his head, quiet approval or a subtle veto, I can’t tell.

“Margot!” someone calls from the far corner of the living room. A hand shoots up, waving wildly.

Lilly laughs and rests her hand on my shoulder. “Serena’s been looking for you since she and Grinder got here.”

“Really?” My voice comes out higher than I intended, threaded with a pinch of desperation I hate that I revealed.

“Of course.” A slight frown pinches between Hope’s eyebrows. “We were all so happy you could join us.”

Now that Serena’s called attention to me, the room shifts. Every face turns my way and offers a greeting. I wiggle my fingers in response, my skin heating.

Charlotte pats her husband’s leg and rises, weaving through the guys with an unapologetic grace. A few groan that she’s blocking the TV, but no one stops her.

“Hi, Margot.” She pulls me into a hug. The scent of baby powder and something tart, but pleasant—like grapefruit—fills the air between us.

I don’t think I’ve been hugged this much since my grandmother’s funeral.

My eyes sting.

Get it together, Margot.

I’m not used to this many people caring about my presence. Not even my own family. It’s nice…in an overwhelming sort of way. Jigsaw’s not even here, so they’re not just being nice for his benefit.

“Hi.” I smile at Charlotte. “I hear your husband’s the one I should take my bets to?”

Charlotte’s mouth turns up in an affectionate grin.

“Oh yeah. He’s in full bookie mode today—placing parlays, over-unders, knockouts by round.

.. I think someone even asked if there was a line on how many times some guy bleeds.

” She waves a hand toward Teller. “Honestly, I think he enjoys the bets more than the fights. So far, he’s won more than he’s lost, so it’s all good. ”

“But the big one’s tonight!” Murphy calls out as he strolls over and joins us. “No pressure or anything, Teller!”

Without missing a beat—or lifting his eyes from his laptop—Teller flips him off.

Charlotte snorts.

“Hey, ginger twinny.” She taps her knuckles against Murphy’s shoulder. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

He tilts his head toward the dining room. “Playland. Hoping if we wear ’em out enough, they’ll all crash before Griff’s fight starts.”

Lilly gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I need to check on Chance. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Hope offers me another reassuring smile before following her down the hall.

I trail after Charlotte, weaving around the recliners and stepping over a couple of blankets.

From the far side of the couch, Serena waves again. She nudges a stuffed-to-bursting diaper bag off the seat and pats the cushion beside her.

“Come sit,” she whispers.

Baby Lincoln’s nestled against her chest, his tiny body rising and falling in a soft, sleepy rhythm.

My heart does that weird, achy flutter again.

I’m not used to people making space for me.

“Sorry,” she says as I ease into the seat beside her. “I would’ve come over to meet you but…”

“Your hands are a little full?” I lean over, peeking at Lincoln’s round cheeks and perfectly pursed lips. “He’s, uh, grown a lot since last time.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him and snuggles him closer.

“Hi, Margot,” a deeper voice rumbles.

I glance up at Grinder—looking especially murder daddy-ish tonight—seated in the corner of the opposite couch, angled ninety degrees from Serena and their baby. Quiet menace radiates off him. His intense gaze settles on me, and he gives a slow, respectful nod.

Oh, lord. Jigsaw must’ve told him about the guy I helped into the crematorium express lane.

Of course he did. The whole club probably knows.

But no one seems afraid of me. Or even seems concerned.

Yeah, no kidding. They’ve all probably done much worse.

Instead of terrifying, it’s comforting.

Everyone in this room would probably kill to protect their loved ones.

That, I can relate to.

Feeling more settled, I let my gaze wander around the room, noting not everyone’s here.

“Where are the other guys?” I ask Serena. “Ravage? Birch? Dex?”