The sunlight slanting in through the front windows of the veterinarian’s waiting room does little to calm me as I pace the small area. Somehow, Dio survived the night. They were able to set his tiny bones and, after several imaging tests, determined that no damage was done to his internal organs. At least, none that won’t heal in time.

I just want to see him. The assistant already warned me that he’s heavily sedated so that he can get better, but I don’t care.

I didn’t sleep last night, and not because I was scared that Eli would come back. No tiny bell tinkled intermittently, letting me know Dio was prowling the apartment. It felt strange not having him there.

My phone vibrates in my bag. I tug it free and read the text from Esther: "We found tires. Waiting for the guys to put them on. Be back ASAP."

But my shoulders only sag with partial relief. Esther was cool enough to let my rent slide for the month, that way I could afford both Dio’s care and the tires. But between that and stopping at Walmart last night to buy a new lock set for the apartment, I’m officially tapped.

Then there’s school to think about.

I resume pacing. I should be at my internship right now. For the most part, it isn’t really a big deal. I’m already behind. But eventually I have to return to campus, and I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to handle this.

The gun is a comforting weight in my purse, but it’s not like I can shoot Eli in the face in broad daylight. Nor will he try anything during the day, surrounded by hundreds of people on campus. Besides, as far as he’s concerned, right now I have no idea who’s stalking me. He’s still the nice guy from my photography class who let me borrow a camera and hangs out with me at lunch.

Which doesn’t make any of this any less disturbing.

Nibbling on my lip, I begin my circuit of the tiny room again. Somehow I have to lure Eli out to a secluded place where no one will interrupt him. But it has to be somewhere I have the advantage. Having a gun doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be the one to walk away. He’s still bigger than me, and he’s already proven that he’s smart.

I still have no idea how he got into my apartment.

The thought sends chills down my spine. Maybe I am a little scared. I guess it’d be weird if I wasn’t. My mind flashes to Dio, mangled and bloody in my bed. A sob escapes my lips.

Nope, not scared.

Pissed.

A door opens and the assistant pokes her head out. "Come on in, Mom," she says, her voice warm.

I pick up Dio’s carrier and follow her into the small exam room.

My kitten lays on the stainless steel table in a bundle of towels. Someone’s dressed him in a preemie-sized onesie covered in tiny ducks. Sensing my presence, Dio cracks an eye open and makes a small monkey squeak.

Tears sting my eyes. I cross the room and rub his little nose. His eyes close peacefully, body rising and falling in steady rhythm.

I face the assistant. "He’s going to be okay?"

She nods, launching into an explanation of exactly what they did and the medications he’ll have to take. I’m delighted to be sticking my fingers into his mouth and force-feeding him pills—bites be damned. Since he’s still so young and has such a strong spirit, she tells me, he should heal pretty well. But I shouldn’t be alarmed if he walks with a limp, and she thinks that his tail will be permanently crooked.

My hands clench into fists, eyes narrowing to dam a fresh well of tears.

"Ms. Reynolds," the assistant says gently, gesturing for me to sit, "I really think we should fill out a police report. This is animal cruelty, and punishable by law—"

I snort, cutting her off. "Do you really think the cops are going to run around chasing a cat beater?" My voice breaks.

She takes a deep breath. "It’s not just Dio’s safety at risk." Her eyes probe mine. "Right?"

"I changed my locks." I stand. "Can I take him home now?"

"Of course," she says. She helps me put him in the carrier, which has a removable top. I’ve padded the hell out of the thing with T-shirts, towels, and blankets. My little prince should have a relatively smooth ride home.

The veterinary assistant runs me through his meds one more time, then reminds me of his followup appointment for the removal of his stitches. "And if you change your mind about the police report," she says, handing me a business card, "I can back you up." Then she returns to her work.

I text Esther, but she’s still waiting on her car. I’m dying for a cigarette, but I don’t want to take Dio outside. It’s too cold. So I resume pacing, leaving him on a chair where I can see him. I’m not letting him out of my sight—at least not for the time being.

Eventually I’ll have to leave his side again. I have to be okay with that. Life has to go on. My locks are changed and there was no sign of forced entry, so we should all be safe now.

Nibbling my lip, I think of Esther’s tires. There’s nothing stopping Eli from slashing them again. But, I remind myself as I pass the front windows, he initially thought they were mine. Esther isn’t his target.

It’s me that he wants.

My phone buzzes. "Donny’s coming to get you guys," Esther’s text reads.

I glance out the window. I don’t want to be alone with Donny. Not because I’m afraid of him. Despite his wide shoulders and corded muscles, the dude’s a teddy bear. Esther wouldn’t be with him if he was an asshole. But as soon as we’re alone, he’s going to push for me to tell Cliff. I already know it. Maybe I’m being stubborn, but I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life. I don’t need Prince Charming to ride in on his motorcycle and shoot down my dragon. I’ve got my own gun. I’ll slay my own monsters.

Donny pulls up and jumps out, leaving the engine idling. He strides into the clinic, glancing around. His eyes land on me, then flick to Dio in his carrier.

"Oh, thank God," he says. Crossing the room, he engulfs me in a bear hug.

I stiffen, but only because neither Donny nor any of the other guys have ever hugged me. It’s a bit awkward. His embrace is warm, though, and his cologne smells just as pleasant as it feels to be in his arms. I relax against him. It’s a purely platonic hug. Even if he wasn’t with Esther, Donny is old enough to be my father.

Not that age ever stopped me from fucking Cliff’s brains out.

Still, there’s just something benevolent and protective about Donny that’s always made me trust him. Which is precisely why I want him to keep his mouth shut. It’s bad enough I have one River Reaper hovering around me like a nervous mother. I don’t know Cliff very well, but I’ve spent enough time with him to know what he’d do to Eli if I told him. Especially since I know he was away for twenty years.

You don’t do hard time on small offenses like assault.

Donny steps away, blinking away moisture in his eyes. "Looking at that little guy last night," he says, moving over to Dio’s carrier, "I didn’t think he was gonna make it." He peers in through the small holes cutout in the sides. "He’s sleeping. He looks good."

"He does," I agree, joining him. I lift the carrier as gently as possible, trying not to rock Dio around too much. Donny holds the door for me and we head out.

I’m not sure whether it’s my imagination or not, but Donny is driving more carefully than usual, avoiding potholes and bumps, and actually obeying the 25 mph speed limit. He follows Wolcott Street, then takes a very gentle left onto Lakewood.

"We got a good deal on tires." He slows as we near McDonald’s. "You hungry? I told Essie I’d grab something on our way back."

I smile at the nickname. It’s too fucking cute. Give it a few months, and these two will be planning their wedding. I wonder if Esther knows what she’s getting herself into. Donny may be a good guy, but he’s still the club Enforcer. I don’t know exactly what kind of business he handles, but it sure as hell isn’t kitten sitting.

Donny pulls into the drive-thru and orders enough food for an army. I sneak a fry out of the large bag sitting between us.

"Between you and Cliff, I’m gonna get fat." I shake my head in disapproval.

"Red Dog? Oh yeah. Dude loves his Mickey D’s."

I frown. "Red Dog?" My maybe-boyfriend has a weird ass nickname and I’m the last to know about it.

"Yeah," Donny rasps, "from his time in the pen. It started off as a joke, but from what I’m hearing, it kinda morphed after he busted a few noses. He was always walking around covered in other people’s blood."

Lifting an eyebrow, I stare at Donny. "How do you know this?"

His big shoulders rise and fall. "Aw, sweetheart." He drives past the tire shop, heading toward the top of the hill.

"Where are we going?" My pulse thrums in my veins. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up.

Donny casts sidelong glances at me in between peeks at the road. Though it’s stopped snowing, the pavement is still slick in some places. "I’ve gotta look you in the eyes while I tell you this, darlin’."

"Tell me what?" Now I’m on high alert. I wrap my arms around Dio’s carrier, trying to decide whether I should push open the door and bail, or if I should wait ’til we get to wherever we’re going. It seems pretty ironic that I might have to pull my gun on the guy who gave it to me.

He pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant. The tires roll over the untouched snow. Donny tucks us far enough away from the road that we won’t be bothered, but turns around so that we’re facing the parking lot exit.

"You’re freaking me out, Donny." I slug down ice cold Dr. Pepper in a feeble attempt to cool my burning nerves.

"I’m sorry, kiddo." He puts the truck in park and turns in his seat. His eyes lock with mine. "We took a vote."

I wait, as still as a deer.

"Ravage and I wanted to tell you years ago, but you know how it goes. We finally got all the guys to agree." Opening the bag of food, he plucks a fry from a cardboard container.

I roll my eyes, partially in relief but also because he’s taking forever to spit out whatever it is. I grab a couple more fries, more to keep myself busy.

"See, I can’t talk to you in front of Essie because I asked her and she told me she doesn’t want to have anything to do with club business. But Olivia . . ." Golden brown eyes search mine, almost pleadingly. "You’ve always been a part of the family."

"Gee, thanks, Donny," I say, "but you’ve only known me for like a year."

He grimaces. "Yeah . . . no. That’s not true. I’ve known you since you were a baby."

My eyebrows furrow. I’m not sure how what he’s saying can be possible. My parents are completely unaffiliated with the club—both them and my biological parents. As far as I know, anyway. My eyes widen, the pieces falling into place. "No," I whisper. Not because I’m denying it, but because it seems impossible.

Donny nods. "Yes, babygirl. Your daddy—your real father—is Mercy Reynolds. He’s one of the founders of the River Reapers. He and Bastard Demmel built this club."

"Demmel?" I parrot.

"Red Dog’s father." Donny’s lips flatten. "Ya’ll have some serious family history to discuss."

Rubbing my temples, I pat around for the door handle. The air in the truck is suddenly too heavy. I shove the door open, then maneuver Dio’s carrier around in my lap until he’s on the passenger seat and I’m slipping out. I close the door and walk away several paces, lighting up as soon as I’m a safe distance away. My kitten doesn’t need secondhand smoke on top of broken bones, bruises, and lacerations.

I turn around, not surprised to see Donny joining me. I hold out my pack to him, but he shakes his head.

"Anything else I should know about?" I feel like my world’s been tilted on its axis. Up until two minutes ago, I had no idea who my birth father was. All I knew was that my birth mother had been fourteen when she got pregnant. She raised me until I was eight. I remember every detail of the day the police came to our apartment and took me away, but I don’t talk about it. There was never any reason to. Lucy’s parents—my parents—have been nothing but good to me, if not a little heavy on the partying.

"Olivia, your daddy’s still alive," Donny says quietly.

My hand stops halfway to my lips. The cigarette burns in front of me. "What?"

"Reason why we know so much about Red Dog is because he was inside with Mercy. One of us visits every so often, catches him up. And he filled us in on Red Dog." Donny touches my arm. "You’re pale, girl."

Hand shaking, I bring the cigarette to my lips. "So you’re telling me," I say in a steady but dead voice, "that I was able to see him, and had no fucking idea?" I think of the week we spent in Lewisburg. I have a father. An alive father. Who is mine. And I could have visited, but instead hopped right back on the train, completely oblivious.

Donny nods. He lets me process this for a few beats. Then, very quietly, he says, "There’s more."

"Jesus fucking Christ." I throw up my hands. "Is this why you bought me McDonald’s? To soften the blow?" I shake my head. "I don’t want to know."

"You do, though." Donny gently takes my shoulders. "Olivia, you do."

I can’t believe any of this. For one, why the fuck didn’t Lucy’s parents tell me? And why did I go into foster care if I had a breathing relative? Too many questions swirl through my head, and I’m not sure I want the answers. My father is a River Reaper. That blood runs through me. The club is just as much a part of me as it is Cliff.

"Wait," I say. "Is this why I got the job? Not because of my certification or ability to mix good drinks. But because of the fucking club?"

Donny winces. "We took a vote," he says.

"Fuck your vote." I hurl the words at him. "None of you thought maybe you might wanna get me up to speed?"

"Big things like that have to be unanimous," he explains. "But your job was undisputed. The vote was more of a formality. We promised your dad that we’d take care of you."

"Oh, enough of that bullshit." My cigarette is down to the filter. I flick it into the snow and light another. "I don’t need your charity. I’ll start looking for something else." Or maybe, I muse, I’ll move down to Lewisburg and take something there. Someone’s going to have to be around when my father gets out—and it sure as fuck can’t be this good for nothing club. "A vote," I mutter, shaking my head.

"That would kill Ravage," Donny says. "And your dad." He lifts my chin with a gentle finger. "Don’t you get it, darlin’? You’re with us so we can watch out for you. Your daddy didn’t want you all alone while he’s behind bars." Turning his head, he spits into the snow. "Your goddamn mother—"

I jerk away and hold up my hands. "Enough. I’m done." Turning, I stalk back toward the pickup. I can’t deal with any more of this conversation, with anything else he has to tell me. I need Lucy. She’s older than me, but she would’ve told me if she already knew. I wonder if our parents know.

I pull myself up into the truck, careful not to jar Dio. When Donny gets in, I tell him to take me to Lucy’s. He doesn’t argue. "Just tell Esther I had some shit to take care of," I mutter. My entire body feels like it’s been sucked dry, every ounce of life depleted from the very marrow of my bones.

Even though I know it’s not Donny’s fault, I still hold it against him. During the entire ride to Lucy’s, I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t deserve my company. I don’t even thank him for the food. When we pull up to my sister’s condo, I grab several containers of fries and wrapped burgers, stuffing them into my purse.

The heaviest of conversations couldn’t kill my appetite.

I nod goodbye to Donny, then climb out, taking Dio with me. He lets out a mew that’s more a sigh than anything else.

"It’s okay, baby," I soothe. "We’re just making a pit stop."

Donny waits until I get inside the door, earning back some points in my book. Closing it behind me, I put down Dio’s carrier. The familiar calm of my sister’s home envelopes me. Then I remember.

Lucy’s at work.

Before I can check out the front window, strong arms grab me from behind.