Page 16 of Brick’s Anchor

"Shut up."

"Completely, totally fucked."

"I will end you."

He just grins wider.

Phoenix clears his throat. "Brick. You good to take point on security for the women? Coordinate with Judge on rotations, make sure they've got eyes on them when they leave the clubhouse?"

"Why me?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"Because they seem to trust you. Because you carried Rosie out of that warehouse. Because she's currently wearing your cut and won't let anyone else near her without flinching."

I look at Phoenix. He looks back steadily, president to member, brother to brother.

"Yeah," I say finally. "I'm good."

"Good. Judge will coordinate medical and therapy resources. Canvas and Eden will handle day-to-day needs. Nora and Ivy will work on making them comfortable. But you're the one they'll see most. The face of their protection."

Great. The face of protection. Me. The guy who thrives on violence and has built his entire identity around being the club enforcer. The guy who breaks bones for a living. The guy whose own brothers ended up in prison because violence is in their DNA.

That's who these traumatized women get as their primary security.

"I'll handle it," I say.

Phoenix nods. "I know you will."

The meeting breaks up. Canvas goes to Eden, wrapping his good arm around her from behind while she continues her assessments. Judge returns to Nora, signing something that makes Grace giggle. Saint disappears toward the garage. Phoenix heads back to his office.

I'm left at the bar, beer in hand, watching Rosie learn sign language from a five-year-old.

She's still not eating. The sandwich sits untouched on the plate beside her. She's focused entirely on Grace, on copying hand shapes, on learning this new language. Using it as distraction. Using it as avoidance.

I cross the room and sit on the chair across from the couch. Not too close. Just present.

Grace notices me and signs something enthusiastic.

"She says you're big like a mountain and mountains are her favorite," Judge translates from where he's standing with Nora.

Rosie looks at me, then at Grace, then back at me. "She's not wrong."

"You still need to eat," I say.

"I need to do a lot of things."

"You said that already."

"Still true."

Grace signs something else, looking between us with open curiosity.

"She wants to know if you're Brick's girlfriend," Judge translates, fighting a smile.

Rosie's face goes bright red. "No. No, he's not… We're not—"

"We're friends," I tell Grace, signing it as I speak. We all have been learning a bit of sign language in the past few weeks. "Rosie needed help, and I helped her."

Grace considers this seriously, then signs back.