Chapter 36 Deadline
Sage's POV
The clubhouse erupted when Ryder showed everyone the photo.
Brothers crowded around his phone, their faces going from concerned to furious as they saw me in someone's crosshairs. The room filled with angry voices, everyone talking over each other about who could have taken it and how to find them.
"Someone had a clear shot," Snake said, stating what everyone was thinking. "Why didn't they take it?"
"Because this isn't about killing her anymore," Diesel replied. "It's about making her feel hunted. Terrorizing her until she breaks."
Jaxon slammed his hand on the bar and the room went quiet. "Everyone listen up. Effective immediately, we're on full lockdown. Nobody leaves alone. Everyone's movements get accounted for and logged. Outside visitors need my approval before they step foot on this property."
"That's going to piss people off," Tommy said.
"I don't care. Someone in this room or close to it is feeding information to whoever's targeting Sage. Until we figure out who, we treat everyone like a potential threat." Jaxon's eyes swept the room. "That includes brothers. Nobody gets a free pass."
The implications settled over the group like a heavy blanket. Jaxon was saying he didn't trust his own club anymore.
"I want rotating guards on Sage," he continued. "Two people minimum, never the same combination twice in a row. And I want to know everywhere she goes and everyone she talks to."
"I'm standing right here," I said. "You can talk to me directly instead of about me."
"Then you understand how serious this is. Someone wants you scared enough to stop asking questions. That means you're getting close to something they don't want you to find."
"Or they're just trying to drive me crazy so I'll agree to marry Diego and leave town."
The room went silent. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the elephant that had been sitting in the corner since Elena left.
That night I barely slept. Every sound made me jump. Every shadow looked like someone watching. By the time morning came, I felt more exhausted than I had before bed.
Jaxon's phone rang during breakfast. He looked at the screen and his jaw clenched.
"Elena Vasquez," he said, putting it on speaker.
"Good morning, Jaxon." Elena's voice was smooth and pleasant, like she was calling to chat about the weather. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"What do you want?"
"Straight to business as always. I'm calling to inform you that Diego will be arriving in Millbrook in two weeks to meet his bride."
My stomach dropped.
"That wasn't part of the agreement," Jaxon said.
"Actually, it's explicitly stated in clause three. The parties shall meet in person within thirty days of contract presentation to discuss wedding arrangements." Elena paused. "It's been three days since I presented the contract. That gives you two weeks to prepare."
"And if Sage refuses to see him?"
"Then we'll consider the contract breached and act accordingly. War, territory seizure, all the unpleasant things we discussed." Her tone stayed pleasant but there was steel underneath. "Two weeks to decide if you want war or weddings. Choose wisely."
She hung up before anyone could respond.
I stared at the phone like it was a snake that might bite me. Two weeks. Fourteen days before I had to meet the man my father promised me to. Fourteen days to figure out a way out of this nightmare.
"Sage—" Jaxon started.
"Don't." I stood up. "Just don't."
I walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Then I turned on the shower so nobody would hear me and I let myself break down completely.
Sobs tore out of my chest so hard they hurt. I slid down the wall and pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound. Everything was too much. The threats, the murder investigation, the marriage contract, the constant feeling of being watched.
I couldn't marry Diego. I couldn't doom the club to war. I couldn't keep living like this, terrified and trapped.
But I also couldn't see a way out.
When I finally pulled myself together and came out from the bathroom, Ryder was waiting outside the door. He didn't say anything at all. He just pulled me into his arms and held me while I clung to him like he was the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.
"I'll find a way out of this," he promised against my hair. "I swear to you, I'll find a way."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that love and determination would be enough to solve problems this big.
But deep down, I was starting to think there was no way out. That my father had backed me into a corner so tight that the only exit was through a door I didn't want to open.
That night I fell into restless sleep and dreamed of my dad.
He was in his office at the clubhouse, sitting at his desk like he used to. But something was wrong. The expression on his face was urgent, desperate, like he was trying to tell me something important.
His mouth moved but I couldn't hear the words. The sound was drowned out by motorcycle engines, getting louder and closer. I tried to move toward him, tried to read his lips, but my feet wouldn't work.
The engines got louder. His expression became more frantic. He was pointing at something behind me, warning me about something I couldn't see.
I turned around and the motorcycles were right there, filling the parking lot. Dozens of them, engines roaring like thunder. The riders wore helmets that hid their faces and they were all staring at me.
Dad shouted something. One word I almost caught before the sound of engines swallowed it completely.
I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The dream faded but the feeling of urgency remained. My dad had been trying to warn me about something. Something important enough that even in death, some part of him was trying to reach me.
But what?
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling as my subconscious processed clues about his murder that my conscious mind hadn't put together yet.