Page 20 of Hard & Haunted

To help distract me, the ladies turn down the clubhouse lights and put a movie on the large flat-screen TV in the lounge. For a while, the colorful explosions and upbeat soundtrack manage to drown out the anxious noise in my head. But my hands need something to do. I reach into the canvas tote bag at my feet and pull out the thick, high-grade sketchpad and the expensive set of charcoal pencils Onyx bought for me.

Just looking at the pristine supplies brings a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. My chest aches with the sheer weight of his thoughtfulness. No one has ever paid attention to me, let alone actively encouraged a dream I thought was foolish. Everything about him, the way he guards me, the way he touches me, the way he looks at me like I am the most precious thing in the world, has rewritten my universe.

I trace the smooth wood of a charcoal pencil, a staggering, profound realization washing over me. I’ll never feel this way about anyone else. Ever. I have been head-over-heels, irrevocably in love with Onyx since the exact moment he dropped to his knees on the dirty garage floor and gently dried my hair that very first rainy night.

We said we loved each other this morning, but now that it’s all at risk… the thought of losing him tonight is even more painful.

I grab another charcoal pencil and press it to the textured paper. As my thoughts spiral into a hurricane of fears, doubts, and overwhelming love, I let my hand take over. The dark charcoal scratches against the page in harsh, sweeping strokes. I pour every ounce of my anxiety and devotion into the shading, smudging the dark lines with my thumb, pressing my frantic emotions directly into the grain of the paper.

I get so lost in the rhythm of the shading that the real world fades away.

When I finally blink and lift my head, my fingers are blackened with charcoal dust. The TV screen is scrolling through the final end credits in complete silence. The movie has been over for a while, and the other ladies are quietly chatting amongst themselves, sharing soft laughs and pouring fresh glasses of water.

Corinne catches me looking up and offers a gentle, welcoming smile. "Join us whenever you’re ready, Eden."

Layla, turns, her eyes dropping to the large pad resting on my lap. "Can we see what you were working on?" she asks, her voice encouraging and kind.

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling incredibly shy and exposed. But these women have done nothing but embrace me since the moment I walked in. I take a deep breath and slowly turn the sketchpad around for them to see.

A collective silence falls over the lounge.

On the page, a massive, violent tidal wave swirls up from the bottom edge, its dark, chaotic waters crashing violently against jagged rocks. The sky above is thick with angry, rolling clouds, the harsh, diagonal lines of charcoal simulating a blinding downpour. But right in the center of the page, sheltered beneath the terrifying, overarching curve of the crashing wave, Onyx stands like a mountain. His massive, inked arms are wrapped protectively around me, shielding my body with his own. While the wind whips my hair wildly around us, Onyx faces the storm head-on, an unshakeable, fearless guardian absorbing the danger so it can't touch me.

Hadley lets out a soft, breathless gasp, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Oh, Eden. That is... that is breathtaking."

"It's so beautiful," Layla swoons, her eyes shining as she studies the intricate shading. "It's so perfectly symbolic. You captured him."

"You have a genuine gift, honey," Corinne adds, her voice thick with emotion. She reaches out, gently wiping a smudge of stray charcoal from my cheek. "He's so incredibly lucky to have found you."

I look around the room, taking in the glowing, supportive faces of the women surrounding me. A deep, anchoring warmth finally settles into my chest, melting away the last of the icy fear. Looking at the beautiful, fierce women sitting beside me, I realize that I haven't just found the singular, soul-deep love of my life.

I have finally found my family.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ONYX

The heavy steel door of The Black Meridian’s local warehouse gives way with a deafening screech under the force of my breaching ram.

We don't give them a single second to react. Armed with the exact floor plans and guard rotations from Eden's ledger, the Rebel Kings pour into the shipping facility like a tidal wave of calculated violence.

I take the lead for my crew, moving with cold, terrifying efficiency. Stryker is leading another crew around to the side entrance, flushing everyone toward the violence we’re about to inflict on these motherfucking low lives.

Molten lava flows through my veins, each beat of my heart pumping more and more anger and adrenaline to the surface. I breathe it in and let it overtake every cell, giving me the energy to eliminate the threat.

Every time I pull a trigger or slam my fist into a syndicate enforcer’s jaw, I see the angry, inflamed brand burned into the soft skin of Eden’s shoulder. I hear the echoing terror in her voice from her nightmare. I’m not sure which fuckers held Eden down or who burned that mark into her shoulder, so I treat them all the same. Every single one of these men were complicit, whether they were in the room or not.

A syndicate guard rounds the corner of a shipping crate, raising a semi-automatic, but I’m already there. I strip the weapon from his hands, driving my knee upward into his chest with enough force to crack ribs. He drops to the concrete, gasping for air, neutralized.

I step over him, my eyes scanning the shadows. "Clear," I bark into the comms at my collar.

"South quadrant secure," Viper's voice crackles back.

"Office is clear," Stryker confirms from above. "The local cell is done. Feds are moving in on the handlers’ location now."

The intel was flawless. The ambush cuts off their entire local operation at the knees, permanently erasing the threat hanging over my woman’s head. We’ll need a clean up crew as well as a solid explanation to the feds, but with the info we have, it shouldn’t be an issue.

The battle has been won, but I have a feeling the war is still raging. Eradicating the local cell, the immediate threat, the fuckers in our town, is a huge victory. However, I’m skeptical that the national syndicate is going to just give up their foothold in the Pacific Northwest. The Black Meridian gang is world-wide, as we’ve discovered from previous intel, which means we’ll have even more eyes on our little coastal town.