“This is serious shit,” I growled. I could feel my mask of calm dropping to the floor and smashing into a million pieces the moment Kenny disappeared with Sloane in his arms.

Jedd and Harry closed the door, leaving me with them and Ayda, the four of us a circle of cautious glances, confused faces, and stiff bodies.

Jedd stood tall. Always tall. A brother ready to go to war at any time. A formidable force.

Harry stepped forward, glancing down at his feet before looking up again.

“Was she…?”

“Raped?” I finished for him, wide-eyed and angry as hell.

Ayda stepped closer to me, her arm sliding under my cut and her palm landing flat on my back. It was a gesture of solidarity, her way of reminding me that she was still here and we would get through this.

“Not rape,” Ayda said quietly. “At least, not in the full sense of the word, but she was violated. More than she told us she was, I think.” She looked up at me for agreement.

“She…” I stopped, all breaths and exhales, glancing down, looking up, and anger racing through my veins. “I don’t know,” I finished.

Did I believe Sloane hadn’t been raped? I couldn’t allow myself to really think about that. The only thoughts running through my brain were all the promises I’d made to Sutton and how they were now shattered, like broken glass across every inch of The Hut. I’d promised him, guaranteed even, that no harm would come to her. I’d made those assurances just days ago, too. Now there I was, with Sloane’s tears on my clothes and her dirt on my fingertips, carrying my lie around like it weighed more than she had done when she’d crumbled in my arms.

“Someone is going to pay, whatever happened.” I looked up at Harry and Jedd, noticing the difference in their reactions. Jedd was eager to seek revenge already, willing to stand by my side and do what needed to be done.

Harry was pale. Tired. Sighing internally at the realization that our honeymoon period was over and the old tricks and turns of the MC everyday life had returned.

“She’s a young fucking kid, Harry,” I practically whispered.

“I know that, son. I know.”

“She’s got no one but us, aside from Sutton.”

“I know.”

“I made a promise.”

“I. Know,” he said firmly.

“Then what’s with the—?”

He cut me off, holding a hand up for me to shut the hell up. “Don’t ask me to stop caring or worrying when I see that look in your eyes, Tucker.”

“What look?”

“Stupid men ask stupid questions,” he whispered under his breath. “You know the look. You feel it. It’s tingling your toes, ain’t it? Making you feel sick, like the only cure is hitting something real hard. Hurting someone. Twisting someone’s dick so he can’t ever use it again. It’s burning you, whether Ayda tries to press it back into your chest or not. I know you, boy. I know you better than you know yourself. I’m not asking you not to react. All I’m asking you to do is think before you lash out.”

Ayda stepped closer still. I knew she respected the hell out of Harry, but she was as agitated as I was. We were feeding from one another with nothing to tether us down. Sucking in a breath, she looked between Harry and me, gauging whether putting her nickels worth in would change a damn thing.

“This situation is a new one for all of us,” she clarified. With her hand still on my back, she started making circles, and I wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it. “We don’t even know who is responsible, and maybe, for now, that’s a good thing. We can sit down and figure out how to go forward. We can tell Howard, and try to stop Kenny from doing something on his own. Drew knows what needs to be done. We just need to absorb this first.”

I was pretty sure she mumbled something about her gun at that point, but I wasn’t sure.

Harry’s beady eyes turned to her. “With all due respect, Ayda, and God knows I fucking love you, but I’ve been with this boy since he was in diapers. I know the way he thinks, the way he reacts, and how everyone will pay if he flips his switch and flies off the handle. It’s his job to run the club. It’s my job to make sure he thinks shit through. I ain’t ever gonna see him back on the inside. Ever.”

“Harry…” I snapped. “I’m not doing anything crazy here. I’m just fucking angry. I’m allowed to still be angry, ain’t I?” I gave him the glare—the one that told him to step the fuck off and move away, but something had shifted in Harry in recent weeks. Gone was the softly spoken father figure who let me make my own mistakes so he could pick up the pieces afterward. There was an urgency to him now. A need for him to see me doing good. Like he wasn’t sure I could do it on my own anymore.

It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. Was I really that much of a fucking pussy these days?

Pulling away from Ayda as carefully as I could, I ran both hands through my hair and rested them at the back of my head. “Whatever. None of this fucking matters anyway. What really matters is Sloane. I know what I need to do next.”

“Howard.” Ayda moved away and sat at the foot of our bed, her hands gripping her knees.

I blew out every bit of air I had within me and gave her a nod.

“I’m about to tell a father someone has touched his girl without her permission. Tell me how bad it’s going to be…”

Ayda looked to me, then trailed off and glanced at both Harry and Jedd. “In a word? Hell. Sloane has always been daddy’s little girl. He was in denial about her relationship with Tate for a while. He’s going to make demands, throw around allegations and it’s possibly going to get ugly emotionally, too. We can’t let him confront Sloane until he’s calm. He’ll scare her, even when he’ll be trying not to. We can’t keep him away, but we have to remind him that she’s scared, confused, and hurting. It’s going to be a mess.”

Ayda’s shoulders sagged as her gaze came back to me.

“I could lie and say it’s going to be fine, but you know it won’t be. I’ll be there with you unless you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I stared at her, unblinking as I dropped my hands down by my sides.

“There’s something else I need you to do.” I paused. “Call Autumn. We need her.”

It took me seven minutes to track down Sutton. It took him another three to roll through the gates of the yard in his cruiser and park in his usual spot. I watched him get out of the driver’s side without much fuss. His uniform was pressed, as usual. His mustache was waxed in place, as usual. His shoes shone, his eyes were determined, and his walk was overly self-assured… all as fucking usual.

Nothing seemed different about him because everything in his world was the same.

And there I stood, on the top step of the porch. The Hound he used to despise, wearing the cut he used to hate, with my arms folded across my chest the way that used to anger him, and my eyes assessing his every move like I was his old enemy. And I was the guy who was about to turn everything upside down.

If only times were as simple now as they had been back when he hated me.

Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about the darkness I was about to taint his world with.

It would have been much easier to tell someone I hated that their daughter’s life had just been dipped in black, never to return to the cheery pastel colors of yesterday again.

“Tucker,” he said through a weak smile as he approached me, walking across the gravel path, his shoes crunching the stones beneath his soles.

“My favorite cop.” I smirked.

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“You being nice can only mean one thing.”

“And that is…?”

“Bad news.”

He came to a stop at the bottom of the porch, raising one foot to rest on the first step as he ran his thumbs under his worn, brown leather belt.

I didn’t respond to confirm or deny as he stared up at me, waiting and expecting. Instead, I sighed slowly and gave a nod in the direction of the other end of the yard.

“Take a walk with me,” I told him quietly.

“A walk?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

I exhaled again and walked down the steps, not making eye contact with him when I got to his level. Instead, I took a diversion to my left, ignoring his quiet calls of my name as I walked over to the training room, pushing my hand into the gaping pockets of my baggy jeans.

The only experience I had of being a father was with my club and with Tate—neither of which compared to the bond Sutton actually had with Sloane and his twin girls. I knew that. I wasn’t naive, especially since loving Ayda. I knew there were different kinds of love in this world.

I wasn’t concerned about him not following. Curiosity was Sutton’s middle name. I could hear the scuffing of his shoes across the ground as I pushed the training room door open, flicked on the lights and held the door open for him.

The acoustics of this space made it feel like even the insects could be heard talking. Everything echoed. He walked in, sheepish and quiet, that frown screwed in place as he glanced around. I let the heavy, industrial door slam shut, and I saw his body flinch before he spun around on his heels and reached for his gun.

I held up my hands and shook my head.

“Here with good intentions, Howard,” I assured him.

Not because he doubted me, but out of respect. We’d all been jumpy since that fateful night in the warehouse.

Nodding in understanding, he straightened up, never quite comfortable enough to take his hands from his holster. I guessed old habits died hard.

I walked past him like he didn’t matter, sauntering over to the bag where I’d spent so many days working out my own issues. I could feel his eyes on me. I welcomed them. Every move I made, every step I took—it was all to create a calm around him.

I slipped out of my cut, dropping it to a nearby bench before I removed my hoodie too and picked up my gloves. Sutton was burning holes in my head as he stepped forward. The clomping of his boots hitting the linoleum floor rang out around as I untied the gloves and began to loosen them up.

“Now, I know you ain’t brought me here for no sparring, Tucker.” His smug smirk was evident, even without me looking up.

I huffed out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know shit, Howard.”

“You know I’m on duty, right?”

“Yep.”

“If I get a call, I’m outta here.”

“Yep.”

“I shouldn’t be here at all.”

“Nope.”

“But you told me it was important.”

I glanced up at him through hooded eyes, assessing at him from head to toe as I checked out what he was wearing. His uniform looked stiff and tired—a bit like its owner.

“Catch,” I said without warning as I launched my gloves through the air.

Gloves I’d never let any fucker slip their hands into before.

He caught them quickly, his eyes traveling up to me before he looked back down at them and raised both brows. “Tell me what’s happening here. ‘Cause it just looked like you handed me your gloves and now you’re asking me to wear them.”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, Sutton.”

To my surprise, he did, and it didn’t take me long to help him tie them up and make sure he was fighting fit. Then I walked behind the bag and held it tight, silently inviting him to take his first hit.

He stared at me with uncertainty shining from his eyes.

“Hit the bag,” I ordered, low and calm.

“My momma was a good Christian woman. She hated evil, hated anything lawless. She hated violence, corruption, and spilling of blood. I wasn’t raised a fighter like you, Tucker.”

“You don’t need to be raised as something to become something,” I told him quietly as I stood there, unmoving. “All you need is a motive.”

“Just because I saved your life, it don’t mean you have to turn me into an animal. I have no desires to have the skull and hounds inked upon my skin any time soon. I’m a man of the law.”

“You’re also just a man,” I reminded him, raising my brows. “So hit the fucking bag.”

Blowing out all the air in his lungs, Sutton stood rigid, unable to gather any momentum in his hips as he threw his first weak-ass punch. The bag barely moved, but I made it sway more than it needed to for effect.

“Good,” I whispered. “Again.”

He repeated his move, sigh included. Sutton’s confusion was written all over his face as he stared at the same spot on the bag and tried not to ask too many questions.

“Tell me,” I started. “How has your morning been?”

Sutton straightened up immediately, his frown deepening as he glared at me. “Fuck off,” he pushed out.

“What?” I smirked.

“How has my morning been?” he repeated, eyes wide. “You’re scaring the shit out of me, Tucker.”

“Just answer the question, Sutton.” I tapped the bag with my hand and raised a brow.

Stepping forward, he braced himself, concentrated on his target spot and threw a hard right. It made the bag move, but not much. I had it gripped tight.

“The morning has been without trauma, events, or loss. I’ve made no arrests, charged no man or woman, chased no cars, but I did have a double espresso that made me buzz a little while.”

“Never had you down as an espresso man,” I muttered as he threw a left.

“Never had you down as a man for small talk.” His eyes met mine as he threw a three-punch combination.

My smirk grew as I watched him. He really was a cowboy—made for horseback and long-range shooting. His punching was fucking awful.

“Touché,” I grunted as he hit the bag again.

“So, how about you tell me why we’re performing this routine and let’s cut out the crap.”

I blew out a breath. “Sometimes things ain’t that easy.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because sometimes life can’t be all black and white. Sometimes there’s a gray area—a patch of gray with a hint of pink in it. That hint of pink you want to protect, keep sacred, keep safe.”

His lips parted as he looked at me while he swung his arm carelessly to the side of the bag. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“Spit it out, Tucker.”

I felt the air get stuck at the back of my throat when I inhaled. “It’s about Sloane.”

“What about her?” He frowned harder, eyes back on the bag.

“I think…” I paused, trying to find my footing when my body and limbs suddenly felt real fucking unsure. “She was attacked, Chief.”

He stopped suddenly. The bag barely swung from the after-effects of his latest hit, but his body certainly did. Howard’s head shot up, his eyes disbelieving as he stared at me and swayed without control.

“W-what?” he barely whispered.

I cleared my throat, trying to stand strong. “Sloane. She was attacked, Howard.”

“Attacked?”

“Yeah.” I nodded once.

Sutton’s eyes searched mine wildly. The blood drained from his face, leaving him ghostly white as everything dropped south. His eyes dropped, his mouth hung, his heart fucking bled into his stomach. His balls hit the floor as the words I’d spoken seemed to echo around the training room on repeat.

She was attacked, Howard.

She was attacked, Howard.

She…

Was…

Attacked…

Howard.

“You’re lying,” he eventually muttered, eating up the silence and swallowing it as a lump of sharp, prominent fear in his throat.

I stepped out from behind the bag, still holding it as firmly as I could.

“I found her this morning, down on FM 667. I was on my way to a repo job with the boys. I was in the truck all alone.”

“No.”

“The boys went one way,” I continued, ignoring his interruption. “I went the other. You know how we like to race to our jobs when they eat into our Saturday mornings. I had the radio on. I was singing…”

“No.”

“I saw a figure on the roadside, all hunched and real scared looking, Sutton. It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized it was…”

“No.”

“Sloane,” I finished quietly.

His eyes were frantic, and his body was rigid as I took a step closer. “No,” he growled, tensing his jaw as denial hit him like a freight train.

“I pulled over. I made her look at me. She was covered in dirt, a little scratched up. She…” I sighed, remembering the look of fear in her eyes. “She looked scared, man. So I picked her up, put her in the truck and brought her back here to Ayda.”

“No.”

“I didn’t even call the boys to tell them where I was heading. All I could think about was Sloane. I needed to get her to Ayda. I needed someone else to tell me what had happened, ‘cause I was like you. I was all rage and red and bleeding and fucking screaming in my head.”

“Tucker. Stop.”

“But then Ayda got her in the room…”

“I said stop it,” he growled harder, more determined.

“And we cleaned her up.”

Sutton took a hard swing, smashing the bag all at once. “Stop!”

“We made sure she was okay. She was okay. But then she started talking, and even though I thought for a moment she was going to tell me that all my fears were nothing but fiction…”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” he snapped, smashing the bag again, forcing it into my stomach and forcing me to tense as I held on to it tight, eyes fixed on him.

“She said someone hurt her, Chief.”

His cry of “No,” came out like a desperate plea. His fist smashed into the bag one final time but didn’t swing away. Instead, it remained embedded into the leather before it slid down, down, down, down, following him as his knees buckled and his whole body crumpled to the floor…

While I looked on.

The bearer of bad news.

Useless. No longer a hero. Just a big, bad guy, telling a small, good guy that the one angelic thing in his life was now tainted with the harsh reality of life in Babylon.

“No,” he whispered, spit foaming between his lips as he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

I swallowed hard, hating the way the shame tasted on the way down as I took a step closer.

“She…” Fuck. “She wasn’t raped, Howard.”

He stared at the floor for a while, not responding in any way. He was a man broken, wondering how to pick up his pieces and reform them to how they’d been just minutes ago. I was a man wondering how the fuck I could help him find some glue.

When he raised his eyes—when he looked up, and I saw the unshed tears there—the look he was wearing penetrated my fucking hard soul and reminded me that it had become soft.

“But she was violated,” I finished.

“Who?” he croaked, his voice angry and feral.

“We don’t know.” I shook my head.

“Who?” he demanded again, not believing me.

I crouched down, bouncing on bended knees as I let my hands hang between them and stared at him with all the honesty I possessed.

“We don’t know,” I repeated quietly—so quietly I made damn sure no more of my words would become an echo in this place. “But I can guarantee you one thing: whoever he is, he’s already dead.”

“Tucker?” he gasped.

“Yeah?”

“Death is too easy. You find them. You bring them to me.”

“Done.” I nodded.

“Now take me to my daughter.”