Page 37 of Silver Fox Daddies

“You expect us to stand here and do nothing as they attack?”

Snapper looks at me funny, shaking his head. “Not at all. I’m just saying—the more people we shoot, the more angry they’re gonna become.”

I think it’s pretty fucking obvious that they’re angry now.

I don’t know why—what’s there to be angry about when it comes to taking territory? We haven’t actually done anything…

Except, we have. Diesel has broken several necks.

I’ve shot one of them in the eye…

Bodies from both clubs are bleeding out on the floor.

Maybe they weren’t angry before, but they are now.

“Who was that girl?”

“What?” I turn back to Snapper. “Now’s not the best time to be having a conversation, man.”

“Everybody saw you taking her to safety when we were all running, on our way over here. Who is she? She’s not part of the club, is she?” His gaze deepens. “Is she an outsider?”

Preoccupied trying to save our asses, I shout, “Why do you care?”

“I care because she might get us in trouble.”

“She’s just a girl with no relevance to either club.”

“She’s pretty. Out of all of our leagues.”

What the fuck is he trying to get at here?

I leave the conversation. I’m not here for a chat. I’m here to prove myself and earn my patch. I’m tired of sitting around all day staring into a computer screen, having no social life. It’s only been a week, but this place feels like family. It feels like I belong.

And I’m not gonna let these bastards take that away from me.

A knife flies my way, and I duck and crawl underneath a table as it sails past me, wedging into the wall.Close call.

I take a moment to catch my breath, and I see something in the corner of my eye. A figure. They wear the opposing badge on the back of their leather vest, and they’re disappearing down the corridor.

My stomach cramps.

Shit.

I might be rooting for Venom Vultures’ survival, but I also need to protect Melissa.

And I fear one might come at a cost to the other.

9

MELISSA

My breath is lodged in my throat, heart going a thousand miles an hour.

Footsteps pound on the floorboards outside of the room—heavy ones that sound angry.

I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the whimper that escapes, and gingerly slide off the bed to hide under it, following Cash’s instructions.

I locked the door, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe. From the chaos that has broken out outside, I get the impression that a stupid lock won’t stop these men from breaking in. More bullets have been fired than I can count. There’s been yells. Cursing. Every time I hear an agonizing roar, I feel it in my bones, because there’s always the chance it could belong to Bishop, Diesel, or Cash.