Page 21 of Priest

Joker had watched it happen with the same expression he’d worn their whole lives, pride sharpened into something ugly. He liked loyalty well enough, but dominance was what really pleased him. He liked that she’d chosen the son who mirrored him. He liked that she’d crossed from the boy who still believed in clean hands to the one who understood how things worked in Joker’s world. Most of all, he liked that she’d proven she could fracture a family without flinching, especially his.

She remembered the way Joker’s gaze lingered on her that night, sharp and approving, like he’d confirmed something he’d always suspected. Give people enough power, and they’d burn whatever they had to reach it. They’d even burn each other.

That was the night the world tilted. Joker’s world opened in front of her, violent and hungry, and suddenly love felt small beside influence. Smaller still beside being wanted by the man who had raised them all to know better and do worse. Power never asked her to be faithful. It only asked whether she was willing.

Sadie opened her eyes and stared at the cracked ceiling.

She still loved Priest. Not the man he was now, with the cut and the command and all that distance in his eyes, but the boy who had once believed he could keep his hands clean. That boy would hate her. The man might too, if he ever looked close enough to see what she had become.

The baby shifted, a small reminder that nothing stayed theoretical for long.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Sadie murmured, but even as she said it, her mind was already reaching for another answer. Someone else Joker could hurt first. Someone else who could keep his attention off the life moving beneath her hand.

She could feed him something small. A half-truth dressed up like progress. Enough to keep him satisfied without setting Saints on fire. She had always been good at that, giving dangerous men just enough to make them think they were leading the dance.

If she controlled the information, she controlled the damage. If Joker thought he was winning, maybe he wouldn’t dig deeper. Maybe she could keep Priest and his club standing long enough to make him remember what they used to be.

It was dangerous math, and Sadie had been doing it her whole life.

She set the phone face down on the nightstand. She would go back. She would smile when she had to. She would stay close enough to touch and careful enough to survive.

Her hand settled over her stomach again, slower this time.

“I’m doing this for us,” she whispered.

The lie came too easily, and that was how she knew it was the most dangerous one yet.

7

Priest

By the time Ghost shuts the office door behind him, the room already feels too small.

It’s not the space. It’s me.

I’m behind the desk with paperwork spread out in uneven stacks, routes and supply orders all blurring together because none of it wants to stick. I’ve read the same line three times and still couldn’t tell you what the hell it says. Ghost has been talking for at least a minute before I realize I haven’t heard a word.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

I look up. “You done?”

His jaw tightens. “You’ve been a pain in the ass for weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been short,” he counters. “With everyone.”

I lean back in the chair, arms crossing. “You want to keep going, or you got a point?”

Ghost studies me like he’s deciding how hard to push. “The club feels it when you’re off. Prospects feel it. Brothers feel it. You don’t miss anything, but you make it damn hard to work around you.”

I don’t argue.

That should probably worry me more than it does.

Ghost watches me for another second, then shifts his weight. “I brought you something earlier for a reason. Dead Man’s Hand has been sniffing around the outer routes.”

That gets my attention.