“I’m terrified,” I whisper. “Dylan doesn’t know yet.”
“But he didn’t take any precautions?” she asks, her lips twitching because she already knows the answer.
“He didn’t,” I confess.
She releases my hand, sitting back in her chair. “Girl, he knew exactly what he was doing. Don’t worry about him, he’ll probably be over the moon excited. I would venture to guess that he’ll scream it from the rooftops as soon as he finds out. Then, he’ll brand you and marry you.”
Shaking my head, the water returns in my eyes. “He can’t brand me,” I whisper. “Can’t marry me either.”
“What?” she practically screeches. “Why not?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I release it once I taste a bit of blood. “He’s not a brother, therefore he can’t claim me.”
“And marriage?” she demands.
“I have zero documentation of who I am. No birth certificate, nothing. There’s no wedding, there’s no claiming, nothing.” I snap the last word, trying not to lose my shit and absolutely failing.
I’m shaking and I just want to go back to my room, curl in bed and sleep until… forever maybe. Trista reaches out, wrapping her fingers around my wrist and squeezes.
“Girl, you need to calm the hell down. You think Jag can’t help you with that, with documentation? He won’t let you live without nothin’, the club also won’t let you either. Worm can get you something before you even realized it’s happened.”
“You’re pretty confident,” I whisper.
Her lips curve up into a big smile. “I’ve seen him come through. You’re not the only nameless woman to come through these doors.”
“I’m not nameless,” I whisper.
“To the outside world, you most definitely are.”
I think about her words and realize that she’s right. I am exactly what she says. I’m nameless. Nobody knows who I am in the world, nobody past the Donkey Punchers and the Savage Beasts.
I’m nobody.
Absolutely nobody.
“What happens now?” I ask.
My heart not stopping, it continues to slam against my chest with nervous energy. I don’t know if I’ll ever calm down. I don’t think that I will. I have a feeling that the slamming heart, the adrenaline, the terror, it’s here to stay—forever.
Trista doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she just watches me, her eyes search mine and then she nods. I don’t know what she’s thinking or if she’s going to tell me what’s on her mind, but she stands up quickly with a big smile.
“Now, you rest. Wait for them to come home. Jaguar will take care of you. I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t abandon you, not ever. He’ll have your back, babe. He’ll take care of everything.”
She leaves and I watch her walk through the back door. I don’t know why she was even here, not really. I highly doubt that she was here just to talk to me. I don’t get another moment to think about her, because something happens.
I hear a loud noise and turn to the side just in time to see a man walk through the door, with three other men at his back. I take a step backward, trying not to stumble and end up having to put my palm on a nearby tabletop to steady myself.
When they walk through the door and into the room, my eyes adjust to the light and I see that there’s a woman beside them, a woman that I recognize from my father’s clubhouse basement. I don’t know her name, but I recognize her for sure.
“What’re you doin’ here, Bones?” Pinkie asks, walking into the bar from somewhere else in the clubhouse.
The man in front who I assume is Bones jerks his chin in her direction, curving his lips up into a cocky grin. “Hey there, Pink,” he purrs.
She doesn’t run up to give him a warm welcome, but she does relax a bit. “The boys ain’t here,” Pinkie points out, bristling slightly.
Bones chuckles. “Part of the reason I’m here. Dragon called, asked a few of us to hang out for a few days until they get back.”
“The other reason you’re here?” she asks, jerking her chin toward the girl.
A girl who hasn’t looked up or said a single word. In fact, she looks scared. I hope that whoever these men are, that they aren’t like the Punchers. I don’t know what I would do if I ever came across a group like them, especially since it’s obvious that they’re somewhat welcome here and probably even friends with the Beasts.
“Maci here, she ain’t doin’ too good.”
At that, Pinkie’s entire body jerks. “You been puttin’ her in your cages?” she sneers.
Cages?
I take another step back, but Bones sees me, his attention shifts to me immediately. “You the one Jaguar was so hot to save?” he asks.
He doesn’t sound angry or upset, he sounds curious. His gaze travels up and down my body, then lands on my eyes. He holds my gaze for a moment before he looks back over to Pinkie.
“No, wouldn’t be ready for that anyway. But we ain’t the club for her. She needs more than I can give her.”
Frowning, I don’t quite understand what he means. I take a step toward him, and then I finally find my voice.
“Was she hurt?” I ask.
I only saw two initiations or whatever my father called the men lining up to rape women, but I know that there were more. So many more. I wonder if she is one of them, if they can’t help her because she’s totally screwed up from something my father and his club did.
“No,” Bones says on a chuckle. “She’s not hurt. Not by us, and as far as I know, not by them either.”
Them.
My father and his men.
Them.
The fucking assholes who hurt women.
Them.
“Then what’s the deal?” Pinkie asks.
Bones looks back behind him at her, then shifts his gaze back to Pinkie. “She ain’t a Skull,” he
