White shirt clings to her curves, showing off every sharp dip and soft swell. Her jeans hug her hips, thick in the way years and motherhood blessed her. Legs long and lean, black heels clickingsoftly on the floor. Her hair’s wild and curly, like I remember, and I’m hard as fucking granite.
What the hell is my body doing? I force myself to look away. I’m not that guy. Ican’tbe that guy. I’ve got an ol’ lady. I’ve got a code. I’ve got enough shit on my plate. But fuck... those lips, that walk, the sway of those hips. My fists curl on the table. I cannot go there. But my body? My body clearly didn't get the memo.
The last time I saw this woman, I wanted to put my hands around her throat and wring her fucking neck. Now? My body’s reacting like none of that shit ever happened. Like she didn’t steal years from me. Like she didn’t keep my kids from me. Like she didn’t rip my fucking heart out and leave me bleeding with the knowledge thatmy own kids—ourkids—hate my fucking guts.
And the rage I’ve been trying to keep on ice? It comes roaring back to life. My eyes lock on her across the room. I track her every move like a threat. She’s talking low to Pop,smiling—in a way I haven’t seen from her in years. Hell, maybe never. That icy, cold-blooded glare she’s been giving me since she showed back up is gone. Replaced by something warm and soft. Something... familiar.
But it’s not for me.
It’s for him.
And that shit burns hotter than anything else. I grind my teeth and look away before I do something reckless. But that jealousy? That twisted cocktail of guilt, anger, and something I don’t want to name—it’s bubbling just under the surface. Ready to explode.
Once they come to a quiet agreement, she steps further into the room. She is calm, calculated, and in control. Her gaze scansthe room before she takes her seat. Her glacial stare is locked right on me. And even though I should feel rage, betrayal, orsomethingmore appropriate, my body continues to betray me. I sit back, jaw tight. Pop turns to me with a hard look, silently telling me not to fuck this up. He lowers into his seat and clears his throat.
“I know it’s not standard to have women in church,” he starts, “but Gabriella’s not just anyone. She’s a liaison for the Barone family. She's got insight we don’t have. Shit, we couldn't dig up even with Hound and all our resources. No slight to you, brother,” he adds, nodding toward Hound. “From my understanding, my grandson sent you something to verify.”
Hound gives a curt nod. So does Gabriella. My father continues.
“She’s here as a favor to me. She’s kept me in the loop every step of the way. So don’t be a bunch of bastards and treat her like she doesn’t belong. Because she does.”
The room erupts with protest as I knew it would.
No one likes outsiders in club business, and definitely nother, not after the last time. I get it. Hell, Ilivedit. But they don’t understand this—she holds the key to answers we haven’t gotten. And weneed those answers, and I’m done waiting to get them.
“Fuck.SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I bark, slamming the gavel on the table. “Sit your asses down and let her speak.”
The room quiets. I don’t take my eyes off her. She meets my stare, calm and steady, then nods. I return it. She adjusts in her seat, eyes moving across the room, connecting with each of my brothers.
“I’m Gabriella Barone. Consigliere of the Barone family. Advisor to my brother Sam. My job is to be the point of contact for clubs like LSMC and other organizations we partner with. I negotiate, mediate, and when necessary, clean up messes that can’t be made public.”
She pauses, then looks directly at me.
“I know Talon and I share a history. And children. But I’m not here to discuss that with anyone but him and his family. I’m here to protect our business and eliminate the people threatening both of our bloodlines. I’m also here to discover who has been stealing frommyfamily and handle what needs to be handled.”
She holds the room in her palm. And not because she’s loud—because she’sprecise. Intentional. Controlled. Her gaze drops back to mine. And this time, her mask slips just enough for me to see something under it. But I don’t look too close. I nod for her to go on.
She leans forward, speaking only to me now. “After you were shot, one of our informants gave Armand information on who put out the hit. We confirmed the connection to a wider plan—something bigger than being about territory.”
There’s a ripple of unease around the table. She might not realize it, but she just gave away that she’s got people inside another club. And after what Pop and my brothers told me. Everyone here knows a club girl was feeding her intel from inside the Keepers. So yeah, I don’t blame the guys for getting twitchy. If she’s got informants planted in other clubs, what’s stopping her from planting one inours?
She must feel the shift in the room, too, because she doesn’t let that silence stretch long. Cuts through the tension fast, like she knew this moment was coming.
“We have eyes in a lot of clubs. Organizations across our territory. But not in LSMC. We don’t spy on allies.”
She looks over at my Pop again. I follow her gaze. There’s something unspoken exchanged between them. Something I don’t like. My jaw tightens. That’s a conversation I’ll be having later. Her eyes come back to me. And the moment stretches, heavy with the kind of truth that doesn’t just sting—itscars.
“We believe in protecting our assets, not alienating them,” Gabriella says, calm but unflinching. “Our informants have been in place for years, positioned in organizations surrounding LSMC’s territory. I took a personal interest in them for a few reasons. The biggest being my children… and keeping my family’s promise to Valentina—Vera, as you all knew her.”
That last part caught my attention. Gabriella holds my gaze.
“That part’s a recent development. Something I didn’t learn until just before my father passed.”
She’s telling the truth—I can see it in her eyes.
“I’ve never intervened unless the intel I got was solid and directly threatened this club or Valentina. I check in with my contacts as needed. They know to reach out to me only if there’s a real, immediate threat.” Her tone is flat. No drama. No showboating. Just facts.
My eyes cut to Hound. He’s already waiting, silently asking what I want him to do. I give a slight nod. He gets the message.
