EVERESTS POV:

"I see Stump has been taking her to and from work," Ghost remarks, his voice casual as he leans back in his chair.

Seated across from him in his office, I barely acknowledge his words. Instead, I stare off into space, taking a slow sip of my drink.

"I don't have time," I respond simply, my voice even.

Ghost chuckles, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he studies me. "I was able to find out who our little pest owes money to."

That gets my attention. My interest sharpens instantly, though I try not to let it show. My mind keeps circling back to two nights ago in the kitchen—her moaning my name, the way she clung to me. And then the dream. Her lifeless body in my arms. It's getting too close to reality. Too close to something I refuse to let happen.

"And who is it?" I ask, exhaustion lacing my words. I barely slept last night. After making sure she was sound asleep, I'd gone straight to my trailer, trying to get her out of my head with Bree. It didn't work.

"The mob."

I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head. "Of course it is." Because what else would it be? This life never gives us a damn break.

Ghost watches me for a beat before continuing, "I pulled some connections. Got a call with their boss later tonight. Gonna see if they're willing to clean up their own mess so we don't have to."

I place my now-empty glass on the desk with a soft thud.

"You been checking in on everyone?" Ghost asks, rubbing his temples as he tosses his glasses onto the desk, clearly worn down.

I nod. "Stopped by her grandparents' place like usual. They're fine. No signs of trouble, no one's tried to get to them. Haven't had a chance to check in on Teagan yet."

"Don't worry about Teagan. I'll handle it," he assures me.

I give him a brief nod, watching as he pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels from beneath his desk. He pours another drink for each of us just as a knock sounds at the door.

Austin's head appears in the doorway.

"Come on in, Junior," Ghost calls, grabbing a third glass and pouring another round.

Austin and I exchange a look—an unspoken understanding between brothers—before he steps inside.

"We've got one of the Devil's Blood in the basement," he announces.

The second the words leave his mouth, I throw back my drink, the burn of whiskey barely registering as I shove my chair back and stand abruptly.

"Settle down," Ghost warns, his tone measured. "I'm talking to the kid first before you go in there and start breaking him."

His attempt at control only fuels my irritation. He's the club president, and over the years, he's tried to act like a father figure to me and Austin. But right now, those words just piss me off.

"Austin," I say coldly, my voice cutting through the tension. He snaps his head toward me, waiting.

"I want you keeping an eye on Brooke while all this goes down. I don't have time to babysit everyone, and you're close to her. She won't get suspicious."

He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, I got it."

I don't spare Ghost another glance as I stride out of the office, already pulling my phone from my pocket.

5:00 PM.

I tap Avery's name and fire off a text, letting her know Stump will be picking her up again tonight. Then I add that I'll be staying in the trailer.

I haven't picked her up from work in two days now. Last night, she wouldn't shut up about how I make the rules but never follow them myself.

She's not wrong.

But I can't see her right now.

Not after what happened the other night.

Not when I know I wouldn't be able to stop myself from making the same mistake all over again.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

AVERY'S POV:

I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and glance at the screen. A message from Everest.

Not gonna pick you up tonight.

No surprise there—he hasn't picked me up for the past two nights anyway. What does surprise me is that he actually bothered to text this time. Probably because I made such a big deal about it last night.

I let out a quiet sigh, already counting down the hours. Tomorrow is my last shift before my long weekend. That's the only thing getting me through right now. I'm still trying to switch back to night shifts—day shift is exhausting. It's a good distraction when I need it to be, but it also keeps me tethered to a reality I don't want to deal with. It keeps me away from that house. Away from everything tied to bikers and death.

At least I was right about Stump.

I learned his name this morning after overhearing him answer his phone. It wasn't what I was expecting, and now my curiosity is piqued. That has to be a club name, not his real one. What's his actual name?

Since I figured Everest wouldn't be showing up, I packed a bag this morning—a change of clothes so I can shower in the locker room before I slip out of the hospital. I already know Stump won't leave his post out front, keeping an eye on things like he always does. Obviously, it's for my protection, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to fall in line. There's no way I'm canceling this date with Mason—not after how relentless he's been about it.

We're going to a little 70s themed Diner just outside of town, far enough that we shouldn't run into anyone who could start trouble. Not like last time.

I barely react to Everest's message, tapping the thumbs-up emoji before slipping my phone back into my pocket and getting back to work.

Two more hours.

Two more hours, and I can scrub this morning off me.

And when I say that, I mean it literally. A fully grown man, completely wasted, came in needing his stomach pumped—and threw up all over me in the process.

It was not the best way to start the day.

__________________

"Hey, do you want me to pull around back?" Mason asked just as I was about to head into the locker room for a quick shower and change.

I gave him a small smile. "Yeah. It's just... complicated to explain with the guy out front who's been picking me up and taking me to work."

"Like your own personal bodyguard," he teased with a chuckle.

I let out a short, awkward laugh before slipping into the locker room, leaving the conversation behind.

The shower didn't take long. I didn't bother drying my hair, instead pulling it back into a slicked-back bun—at least it was clean now. No more remnants of vomit or God knows what else clinging to me. I dressed simply: a pair of leggings, Converse, and a light sweater, something breathable but warm enough for the cooler nights.

After exchanging quick goodbyes at the nurses' station, I made my way down the stairwell and out the back door, where Mason sat in his car, focused on his phone. I walked around to the passenger side and slid into the seat. It felt a little odd—I guess I had gotten used to Stump opening the door for me the past few days.

"I'm really happy we're doing this," Mason said as he put the car in drive and made a loop around the hospital.

Without making it too obvious, I sank slightly lower in my seat, hoping to avoid being seen.

"Yeah, it'll definitely be nice to actually get out—especially after this morning." I wrinkled my nose. "I swear, I still feel like I can smell puke on me, even though I scrubbed my skin raw."

He laughed, and it felt natural. Over the past few days, our conversations had become easier, more effortless.

"So," Mason started, his tone shifting slightly. "I know you said it's a long story, but I'm guessing the whole 'bodyguard situation' has something to do with your house burning down?"

I cleared my throat and sat up, straightening my back. "Something like that." I hesitated before adding, "I really don't want to talk about it, Mason. I just want to have a good night without thinking about all of that."

I dropped my gaze, fiddling with my thumb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me, offering a small, understanding smile.

After about half an hour, we pulled up to a small diner. The moment I stepped out of the car, the smell of fried food filled the air, making my stomach growl. It was the kind of place where you just knew you'd leave smelling like grease—but I didn't care.

Inside, we walked to the back, settling into a small booth tucked into the corner.

"Hi, kids, welcome to Pattie's! What can I get you to drink?" our waitress greeted us with a warm smile, her uniform straight out of the '70s. Something about it was comforting, like I was some teenage girl about to order a milkshake on her first date.

"Just a sweet tea," I said, watching as she jotted it down before turning to Mason.

"Water with lemon," he ordered simply.

Silence settled between us until the waitress returned with our drinks. We placed our orders—Mason opting for a burger and fries while I went all in with a grilled cheese, chicken fingers, fries, and a side of pickles.

As I sipped my tea, Mason's voice broke the quiet. "You know, I really like you, Avery. I'm hoping we can do more of this."

I nearly choked on an ice cube. Setting my drink down, I looked at him carefully.

"Mason..." I sighed. "I like you too, but there's just a lot going on in my life. I moved here to start fresh." I tried to smile, hoping he'd understand, but I saw the way his expression shifted—the slight downturn of his lips.

"If waiting is what it takes, I will," he said earnestly. "I see the way you are with patients. You're beautiful, you're caring... You're the whole package."

A quiet chuckle escaped me as I toyed with my straw wrapper, glancing up at him. "Thank you," I said softly, "but I don't want you to wait for me. That's not what I'm asking."

Mason was sweet, and if things were different—if my life wasn't a complete disaster—I might have considered what he was suggesting. But right now? Relationships weren't an option. My life was too unpredictable, and the last thing I wanted was to drag him into my mess.

We made small talk until our food arrived, and the moment it hit the table, I dug in without hesitation. I was starving. Mason noticed my sudden focus on devouring my meal and smirked but didn't say anything. The mood had lightened somewhat, but there was still a shift in him after I turned him down.

That was fine. He'd get over it.

It was just after 8:30 when we finally finished eating. Knowing tomorrow was my last shift before my break, I let myself relax, enjoying the moment. We chatted about work, swapping stories about difficult patients, our voices low as we laughed over the week's chaos.

And then the air changed.

I felt it before I saw it. The atmosphere in the diner seemed to drop several degrees. Mason's expression hardened as he looked past me, and when I turned to see what he was staring at, my stomach dropped.

Everest.

He was storming toward us, his eyes locked onto me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I barely had time to react before he was standing right beside me, his presence looming, his stare burning into me.

I swallowed hard. "Can I help you?" My voice came out shaky despite my best effort.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Avery?" he hissed.

I turned back to Mason just as I wiped my mouth with a napkin, giving him a small, uncertain smile. But his face had changed—confusion, hurt, and something else... disgust.

The hostility in his eyes caught me off guard. Before I could say anything, he shot up from the booth.

"I knew it," he spat. "I tried to ignore it, but I fucking knew it!"

Even Everest looked momentarily confused by Mason's outburst.

"Mason—"

"No!" he snapped. "The second I asked around about you—mentioned your last name—everyone gave me the same damn look. But I ignored it. I convinced myself you were just some girl who had bad things happen to her."

The entire diner had gone silent. Eyes were on us, watching, listening. My face burned with embarrassment, confusion, and something deeper—something I didn't want to acknowledge.

"I'm sorry," I tried to explain, standing up from the booth. Everest was behind me now, his stance protective. "I told you my life was complicated. I wasn't trying to hurt you. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."

"Hurt me?" Mason let out a bitter laugh. "You couldn't hurt me. You're just some whore-bag biker groupie."

The words hit like a slap, but before I could react, Everest did.

In an instant, he decked Mason, sending him to the ground. Gasps rippled through the diner. I barely had time to register what happened before Everest grabbed my arm, dragging me out.

My face burned as people stared, whispering. Humiliation crawled up my spine, but I was too shocked to protest.

Everest shoved me into the passenger seat of his truck and sped out of the parking lot. His grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles white with anger.

"Do you seriously think this is a joke, Avery?" he snapped, his voice sharp. "This is your life!"

I flinched. The weight of Mason's words, of Everest's fury, pressed down on me.

Was that really how people saw me?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at my lap.

"Sorry?" Everest scoffed. "You're risking your life for some stupid, tiny punk!"

I bit the inside of my lip, fighting the sting of tears.

The rest of the ride home was silent.