I figure out I’m in Silas’s bedroom after the first five minutes of the explosion. My resorting to rifling through the room is the only way to avoid the approaching panic attack. I don’t know what’s going on outside, but judging by the screams, sirens, and overall panic, the odds aren’t high that it’s anything good. Instead of curling up into the fetal position and cursing Silas all to hell, I take a seat as far away from the door as possible, and give it ten minutes. If some fine-ass looking firefighters don’t come to my rescue by then, I plan to use that fucking bedside lamp as a projectile through Silas’s goddamned window.

Axe is the one to show up. He takes me to Jenny’s side, and for a while, I’m holed up at their house a few miles down the highway, with big, gruff bikers guarding every single entrance. Jenny doesn’t take her eye off me for a second, and that makes me realize the woman’s sweet, friendly welcome a few hours ago was probably all for show.

After the firefighters cleared the clubhouse for re-entry, Axe brings me back to Silas’s bedroom. I manage to sleep a bit, but then a terror-filled dream wakes me up. It’s one with Silas’s eyes squarely focused on his gun pointing out the window before it goes bang! I jump right back to full alertness. It’s almost four in the morning now. Sleep won’t come, so I sit up again. I start to pace back and forth, thinking how ridiculous this situation is, until the door lock clicks and Silas walks in. He’s the last person I want to see, but he barges through the door wearing a cold, calculating expression, hair mussed, and his square, masculine jaw still streaked with black and gray soot. I can’t help but feel a bit sad for him.

Just a bit.

“Nice of you to come back for me after locking me in a room during a life and death emergency,” I say, stabbing him in the chest with my index finger for emphasis. “Are you out of your mind, or are you really that eager to get rid of me? Because we could end this right now if you just took me to the nearest bus station away from this godforsaken place. You don’t have to leave me for dead!”

“I didn’t. Axe and Jenny took care of you. Plus, I think you already know that if I wanted you dead, you’d be in a shallow grave by now.”

His curt answer doesn’t scare me one bit as I circle him, my lips tight and my heart racing with pent up frustration. “My life is not a goddamned game, Silas! You can’t do this to me!”

Silas plants himself at the center of the room. He’s as inflexible as he is immobile. He doesn’t respond. It’s as if he flicked on a mute button and can’t hear me. Won’t hear me.

A flare of anger makes me see red. I’ve been locked up for far too long. “Let me make this simple. Take me home. It doesn’t matter what is or isn’t waiting for me there. Please, just drop me off or take me someplace where I can hitch a ride.”

“Not gonna happen.”

I glare at him, my limbs like lead as a headache forms and begins to pound against my temples from excess stress. With a sigh, I back up and sink onto the edge of his bed. “None of this matters to me. Can’t you see that? We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time when you found me, period. You have no right to keep me prisoner like this. Please…I won’t say a word. I’ll forget everything that’s happened since you bumped into me on the elevator, okay?”

Sick of pleading with him while my stomach knotted, I lower my head to my hands. “Please, Silas,” I repeat.

“No.”

That’s it. I’m done. There’s nothing else I can say to reason with him, and I don’t have the energy to look up at him and possibly see his complete disregard for all this begging. Why the hell did I expect an outlaw biker to have a heart in the first place? A flashback of him diving to cover me with his body make my throat tight, and I forcibly swallow, ignoring my poor intuition. It’s not my fault he has a white knight complex. He’s also stubborn, archaic, overprotective, and out of line. I’m not his to keep safe.

“Maybe you want me to take you back home so bad because you know what’s there waiting for me.” The eerie calm in his voice and his accusation make all the blood drain from my face.

“What?” I ask, the hairs on my arms prickling with fear and the urge to run and hide.

Danger oozes from his pores, yet he’s so collected. “Isn’t that why you’ve been playing this charade with me, Sabrina?”

I draw in half a breath and stop as I meet his cold, calculating stare. It’s unlike any other side I’ve seen of him. I instinctively know this is the face he uses when he goes in for the kill. It’s blank, unapologetic for what he just suggested, and utterly devoid of feeling. My fingers dig into the end of the mattress, pinned by the depth of his fierce, emotional black hole. Despite my hold on the bed, every instinct is telling me to scramble backward and put as much distance as possible between me and him, preferably with a wall against my back for support.

“Please, Silas,” I whisper.

“The elevator was a setup, wasn’t it? My mother wasn’t wrong. Nothing else makes sense and you know it. A gorgeous wealthy-looking woman mixed up in a lot of dangerous shit doesn’t just fall into my lap. She hops into it intentionally, to be a mole for a rival gang, or as a distraction…or as bait.” He still hasn’t moved an inch. Is he breathing? I blink a few times, afraid to draw any added attention as his eyes do their bit and penetrate down into my soul, looking for answers. “This only goes down one of two ways. You tell me what you know, or I make you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Silas.” I ignore the quiver to my voice and hold my head up, straightening my shoulders. “All I know is exactly what you know. I was leaving my condo apartment. I saw you at the elevator. Someone must have darted me on the way there. I passed out and woke up in your lap on that bike outside. That’s it. You’re the one who told me I was attacked and confirmed that someone tried to drug me. You brought me here, under the guise of keeping me safe when all along I’ve been asking you to let me go. Do you see the irony of that? Keeping me safe at a place that Just. Got. Bombed?”

I hope to God he believes the lie. Because Christ, that’s not everything. He doesn’t know the half of it, but if I leave here soon, I won’t need to tell him anything more than what I’ve already said. I just need to hold on a bit longer. Either he’ll get tired of keeping me here, or I’ll find a chance to make my escape, or someone will come for me when they notice I’m gone. Someone out there wants me badly enough, probably to try and shake down my father. I can count on that—which is why I so desperately want Silas to be the one to deliver me home safely. Any other scenario will make the situation at this clubhouse all the more complicated. I just can’t tell Silas that part. If only I can convince him to return my cell phone. Or steal it off of him.

I can tell he has no plans to stop his attempt at intimidating me. He takes three quick strides forward until our legs touch. I try to stay calm and not react. And hell, the man radiates heat. I can feel it through his jeans without direct skin-to-skin contact, which causes my core to ache inside these loaner sweatpants. Silas drops to his knees to be at eye level with me, and parts my legs without a pause, making room to fit snuggly between them. His palms skim along my upper thighs. My fingers tremble against the bed, aching at every knuckle where I grip the sheets.

“I don’t believe you, darling,” he all but whispers as our eyes lock, his face inches away.

His right hand lifts up and cups my cheek. So much power hums beneath his touch, I utter a silent prayer in my head.

Lord, give me self-control.

And please, give me enough clarity to keep my eyes open and my legs closed.

His touch is subtle, gentle, but I know deep down it’s part of his tactic to get my guard down. Silas can break me in half in an instant if he wants to. Despite that knowledge, my body hums, and my nipples harden beneath his soft, faded t-shirt.

“Why the fuck was the mob after you, Sabrina?” His fingers skim along my jawline until he reaches my throat, at which point he cradles it, holding me in place as if I’m planning to bolt from him.

I fight the urge to move away—and that dangerous undercurrent that pulls me closer. It must be those eyes.

“I have no idea,” I say barely above a whisper. “Really. I was leaving my place to attend a gala benefit for a youth group home in the area. My father couldn’t make it, so I was on my way to cover for him. I was minding my own business, in a hurry on my way out to avoid being late when I ran into you. You know the rest.”

That’s a part-lie too, but whatever it takes, I’m not admitting any more details.

His fingers tighten almost imperceptibly at my throat and I let out a small whimper. Within seconds, he loosens his hold on me but doesn’t let me go, remaining close. When he closes his eyes and inhales slightly, I start to wonder if there’s any truth to the old saying that some people can smell out a lie. His eyes flash open, blazing blue, so gorgeous it almost hurts to look directly at him.

“I can’t trust you,” he admits, his voice gruff and rocky, his fingers shaking against the side of my face. “But I don’t want to hurt you right now.”

“You don’t?” my fingers reach out, brushing the wavy, black ends of his hair that rest at the collar of his cut.

“No. I want to fuck you.”