Emma
The hydraulic screech of steel blast shutters dropping into place rattled through the upstairs residential wing.
Sophia stood near the kitchenette, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Across the room, Raven racked the slide on a matte-black 9mm with practiced efficiency, sliding the weapon into the holster beneath her leather cut.
From the garage beneath us came the deep, synchronized idle of twenty big-twin motorcycle engines. The clubhouse was locking down for war.
"He's outside," I said. My voice was steady, but the knot in my stomach tightened.
"Jake gave orders for you to stay behind the reinforced gate," Sophia said softly. "He wants you safe up here, Emma."
"I spent five years hiding in locked rooms while Derek decided whether I lived or died," I said, looking between the
