Page 30 of Priest

The room goes still in that careful way men go still when a threat finally has a shape, even if it has no face yet. Ghost glances up once, quick and flat. “Could be loose talk. Could be bad luck. But bad luck keeps landing too close to our timing.”

Nomad’s jaw flexes as he looks down at the map. “Then we move the timing.”

No one answers right away. Ledger leans back, thumb rubbing once over the edge of his ring before his gaze cuts to mine. “I can make the paperwork clean. Garage stock. Bar order. Nothing that makes a badge excited if one gets nosey.”

“Truck rides light,” Nomad says. “Crates only. Weighted enough to look right.”

Deacon’s eyes stay on me, quiet and sharp. “Same men?”

I hold his stare for a second, feeling the old itch under my skin, the one that says the road has started listening back. “Same men. Same discipline. We ride it normal.”

Ghost drops his gaze to the screen again, fingers moving across the keys without sound. “I’ll watch what moves after the schedule posts.”

That settles it more than any speech could have. Dead Man’s Hand has been sniffing the outskirts again, and every piece of it is small enough to look harmless alone. A question asked where it shouldn’t have been asked. A delay that lines up too neat. Eyes near a road we use often enough to matter. Nothing loud enough to strike back at, which is exactly why the quiet has started feeling like a hand closing around the back of my neck.

“Eyes open,” I tell them. “Hands steady. Nobody freelances.”

They nod because they trust me.

That trust weighs heavier than it used to.

After Church breaks, Sadie catches me near the hallway before I can make it to my office. She approaches slowly this time, like she’s learned something from the women and wants me to see her being careful. Her hand rests against her stomach, and her eyes lift to mine with a softness that almost passes for real.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she says.

I stop, though every part of me wants to keep walking. “For what?”

“For letting me help.” Her fingers move over her belly, small circles through the fabric of her sweater. “For everything, really. I know I’m not always easy to have around, and I know this wasn’t what anyone expected. But the women have been good to me. The club has been good to me.”

I hear the wobble under her voice. I hear the loneliness too. Maybe that’s the part that keeps tripping me up with her. Under all the careful timing and the too-soft hands, there is still a woman carrying a baby without the man everyone thinks should be standing beside her. Ace is gone. Whatever else Sadie is, whatever else she wants, that truth remains.

“It feels like home here,” she adds.

Home.

The word settles somewhere deep and uneasy.

I look past her for a second, toward the long table where Lena is gathering cups and Tessa is watching us from the corner of her eye. Raina has already pulled herself half out of the room, like she wants distance before Sadie can turn gratitude into another claim.

“That matters,” I say.

Sadie’s eyes shine. “Thank you.”

I nod once. “Doesn’t mean you get to speak for the club.”

The shine dims a fraction.

“You want to help, help,” I continue, keeping my voice low enough not to carry. “You need something, ask. You don’t give orders to prospects. You don’t make decisions for the women. You don’t assume because you’re protected that you’re patched into something you’re not.”

Her face tightens, then smooths so fast I almost doubt I saw it.

“I understand,” she says.

I want to believe that. I almost do.

But when she walks away, I watch how her shoulders set before she reaches the women again. I watch how she smiles, how she lowers her voice, how she slips back into the room like water finding the crack I just tried to seal.

Something is off. It has been off for weeks, and I’ve been too damn buried in needing to find Blue to give it the attention it deserves.