Page 73 of Unhinged

He chuckles, nodding knowingly. “Oh, I know about girls like you, pretty. Kenny, though, he’s dead and gone.”

I widen my eyes dramatically, faking shock. “Oh no, what happened? No, wait, don’t tell me.” I cross my arms and pout, sticking out my bottom lip. “How am I gonna get my party supplies now? My girls will be so upset.”

He leans in, clearly enjoying the game. “Pretty lady, fear not. When one dealer goes down, another takes his place quickly. But sadly, Kenny's replacement ain't dealing tar.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How’s that helpful?” I ask, not bothering to hide the frustration in my tone.

His grin widens, showing the teeth of someone who’s done one too many hits of meth. “Lucky for you, I know who Kenny was getting his shit from, and he’s here. Let me just have you speak directly to him. He likes pretty girls.”

“Oh good.” I clap, feigning excitement. “I’ll pay whatever.”

He stands, a sneer spreading across his face. “I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

GEARS

We’ve got a plan.

Laid it out in Church this morning, straight and clean: hit The Rusty Nail tonight. Low profile. Just me, Arrow, and Acid. Our job? Track Kenny’s supplier. Brydgett’s our in.

Her plan,not mine.

She came up with this twisted little play; said she’d act like she was looking for Kenny, like she’d been sweet on him, like he was her dealer and now she’s hurting for a fix. Said it’d make her believable. Make people talk.

I told her no.

Told her it was too risky. But Brydgett’s got a will like iron and a mouth that could start wars. She didn’t listen. She never fucking listens. And between her doing this with us watching or doing it on her own without protection, the choice was obvious. So here we are. Playing along. Falling in line. Because that’s the only way to keep her in sight.

Some of the brothers wanted to come along; offered to hang back, run silent support. I told them no. Not because I don’t trustthem. I do. But I can’t have them seeing what this omega does to me. Can’t have them watching her roll right over my decisions like I’m some love-drunk idiot with no spine. They’d get ideas. And I’d have to beat those ideas out of them.

And Brydgett? She’s still feeling her way around the edges of all this. Us. The club. The idea of belonging somewhere that doesn’t hurt. She sees too many unknown alphas crowding the room, she’s gonna go cold and sharp again. Slam those walls back up—triple-locked, rigged with explosives.

And our woman… yeah. She’s guarded better than Fort Knox during a government cover-up. You don’t push your way in. You earn it. Slow. Steady. One careful fucking step at a time.

The music'stoo loud in The Rusty Nail tonight, all bass and no rhythm. Arrow’s leaning against the wall to my left like he owns the place and Acid’s got that twitchy energy that tells me he’s two seconds from punching someone for breathing wrong. Me? I’m nursing a warm beer and watchingher.

Brydgett.

Our omega.

Ours, even if she won’t say it yet. She’s across the room, working some creep in a cheap suede jacket who thinks he’s got a shot. He doesn’t. But he’s gotinfo, and Brydge knows how to tease it out. Her laugh is sharp as she flutters her lashes at him while she talks.

"You seeing this?" I mutter to Acid, keeping my eyes on her as the guy touches her hand and she pulls it back, but not enough that I’m happy.

Arrow grunts. "Wish I wasn’t."

Acid shrugs. "She knows what she’s doing. She’s playing him."

Brydgett crosses her arms and pouts, sticking out her bottom lip. The motion has my cock twitching in my jeans. The woman doesn’t know the effect she has on us. She’s got a mouth like sin and eyes that dare the devil to try her.

But I don’t like the way the guy’s grinning. Too cocky. Too eager. Then—he’s gone. Just turns on his heel and disappears down a back hallway without a word. Brydge watches him go, lips pursed, one brow arched. For a second, I think she’s letting him walk. Then he comes back—less swagger this time, more business—and leans in to murmur something in her ear. She nods once, deliberate, finishes her drink, and follows him with a look over her shoulder that tightens something in my chest.

“She just go with him?” I ask, straightening.

“Yeah,” Arrow says, already moving.

We follow. Through the crowd, past the booths and beer-slick floors, slipping through the same narrow hall they took. There’s a door I don’t remember ever being here, but this also isn’t a place we come too often. Acid pushes it open, and we step into a different world.