Page 18 of Break Me

The storm's coming. I can feel it. And when it does, I don't trust myself to make the right call when it gets here.

When I push open the office door, Knox is leaning over the desk with both palms planted flat. His jaw ticks when he looks up at me. Ghost, Bishop, and Mouse are scattered around the room, their expressions tight.

“Shut the door,” Knox says.

I do.

He gestures toward the chair across from him, but I stay standing. My ribs are killing me, but I don’t sit when Knox is in this mood. Nobody does.

“We’ve got a problem,” he starts.

Understatement of the year.

Ghost tosses a folded paper across the table. A photo slides out. It’s a grainy, nighttime shot, timestamp in the corner. It’s from last night. Behind the warehouse. Two bikes. A couple of silhouettes. Not clear enough to ID us, but close enough to make a man sweat.

“Where’d it come from?” I ask.

“Anonymous drop,” Mouse says. “It was forwarded to the club email.”

“Someone’s watching us,” Bishop adds. “And they’re not shy about letting us know.”

Knox’s eyes lock onto mine. “You were on the left flank,” he says. “You notice anything?”

My pulse kicks hard, but I keep my voice even. “There was some movement behind the fence. I figured it was an animal. Didn’t really have time to check.”

“An animal?” Knox repeats, his voice eerily quiet.

“Yeah,” I say. “A lot of shit moves around out there.”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t break eye contact. He’s reading me, he’s been reading me for weeks, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this mask in place.

“Someone knew we’d be there,” Bishop says. “And they wanted us to know they knew.”

I nod once. “Means it won’t be their last move.”

Knox taps his fingers once against the table, the only sign of his irritation. “Everyone needs to stay sharp. Last night wasn’t supposed to get this messy. We can’t have more eyes on us.”

I feel the words like a warning meant specifically for me.

Can’t have more eyes on us.

Can’t have more eyes on me.

“Wolf,” Knox says, dragging my attention back. “You good?”

The lie comes easier than it should. “I'm fine.”

He studies me for another moment before giving a single curt nod in return. “We’re tightening up. No one rides alone this week. No late-night runs.”

No slipping away to see Raven. My stomach tightens.

“Dismissed,” Knox says.

The guys file out, murmuring about the photo, the threat, the mess. I start to follow them, but Knox’s voice hits me again.

“Wolf. Stay a minute.”

My spine stiffens. Fuck. “Yeah?”