Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Wolf

I rode until the city lights thinned and the road opened into black. Wind tore at the cut, cold enough to bite through the leather, but it didn’t clear the noise in my head.

Nothing ever did when it came to Harlow.

I should have stayed at the table. Should have finished the whiskey and ignored the way she looked at me like she already knew every filthy thing I wanted to do to her. Instead I’d stood up, gotten too close, and almost put my hands on her right there in the middle of the clubhouse. The only thing that stopped me was the weight of the ring on my finger and the memory of the woman who’d put it there.

Elena.

Three years gone and she still sat between me and every breath I took. I told myself that was loyalty. Some nights it felt more like a chain.

I pulled off at an overlook and killed the engine. The quiet rushed in. My hands flexed on the grips, still restless. I could still hear Harlow’s voice when she’d leaned in with that bottle—You ever get sick of sitting here alone? The little smirk on her mouth. The way her pulse had jumped in her throat when I told her to be careful. She’d pushed. She’d always pushed. And every time she did, the part of me that was supposed to stay buried for Elena tried to claw its way out.

I started the bike again and headed back.

The lot was emptier when I rolled in. Most of the brothers had cleared out. One bike still sat near the side of the building—prospect’s. Cheap model, too much chrome. I parked, swung off, and started for the side door. That was when I saw the storage building light flicker once through the cracked door and go dark again.

I knew what that room was used for. I stopped walking.

Something cold and mean slid under my ribs. I told myself it was nothing but a Prospect getting his dick wet. Happened every night around here. None of my business.

Then I heard her.

Not loud. Just a short, muffled sound that I would have known anywhere. Harlow. The same sound she’d made once when she’d burned her hand on a hot glass and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. Except this wasn’t pain.

I stood there in the dark like a fucking statue while the sounds carried—skin, breathing, the scrape of the workbench against concrete. My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached. I should have turned around. Should have gotten back on the bike and left them to it. Instead I stayed rooted, listening to some wet-behind-the-ears prospect fuck the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.

The jealousy hit harder than I expected. It sat in my chest like a live coal and refused to burn out.

I’d watched her take half the club to bed over the last year and told myself it didn’t matter. She wasn’t mine. She would never be mine. Elena’s memory was the only thing I was allowed to keep. But hearing it—knowing it was happening twenty yards away while my hands still remembered how close they’d come to grabbing her at the bar—made something in me snap sideways.

When the noises finally stopped I forced myself to move. I walked past the storage building without looking in, unlocked the side door to the clubhouse, and went straight to my office. The door shut harder than it needed to. I didn’t turn on the light. Just stood there in the dark with my hands braced on the desk, breathing like I’d run miles.

I could still smell her on the air from earlier—whatever cheap perfume she wore mixed with whiskey and smoke. It clung. Everything about her clung.

I dragged a hand down my face and tried to call up Elena the way I usually did when the wanting got too sharp. The way she’d looked at me like I was something better than I was. The memories came, but they felt thin tonight, distant, like photographs left too long in the sun. All I could see instead was Harlow’s mouth when she’d said or what, and the reckless little spark in her eyes that said she already knew the answer.

I wanted to put her on her knees. I wanted to fuck the attitude out of her until she couldn’t form words. I wanted to lock the clubhouse doors and keep every other man from touching what kept living rent-free in my head.

And I hated myself for every single one of those thoughts.

A knock sounded at the office door. Knox’s rhythm.

“Yeah,” I said.

He stepped in, took one look at my face, and closed the door behind him. “You saw.”

It wasn’t a question. Knox always knew more than he should.

I didn’t answer. He sighed and dropped into the chair across from the desk.

“Prospect’s gone. She left right after. Bike headed east.” He paused. “You want me to handle him?”

“No.” The word came out flat. “He’s a prospect. He did what prospects do.”

“And her?”

I looked at him. Knox held the stare for a second, then raised both hands.

“Not my business. Just saying—whatever this is, it’s getting louder. Brothers notice. She notices. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think.”

“There’s nothing to hide.”

“Sure.” He stood. “You keep telling yourself that. I’ll keep pretending I believe you.” He reached for the door, then glanced back. “For what it’s worth, she’s not taking anyone upstairs anymore. Hasn’t for months. Just the quick ones. Like she’s trying to outrun something.”

He left before I could tell him to shut the fuck up.

I stayed in the office until the sky started to pale. Sleep wasn’t happening. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the storage building door and heard that soft sound she’d made. My hands kept curling into fists like they could still do something about it.

By the time I finally walked out into the main room, the place was quiet. I poured a measure of the good whiskey I kept for nights like this and sat in my usual chair. The one with the clear view of the bar. The one where I could watch her tomorrow night when she came back in like nothing had happened—smile sharp, eyes daring, body already belonging to the next man who looked available.

I drank slowly and let the jealousy sit with me. Let it burn. Let it remind me exactly why I needed to stay the hell away from Harlow.

Elena was dead. Harlow was chaos in a pair of tight jeans. And I was the man who was supposed to know the difference.

I finished the glass, set it down, and stared at the empty bar until the sun came up.

Tomorrow she would be here again. And I already knew I would watch her the entire night, wanting things I had no right to take.