Page 109 of Priest

I nod once. That’s all I can ask.

The answer sits right with me. Ghost isn’t dodging. He’s protecting the work. Half-built suspicion can tear through a club faster than an enemy with a gun, and if he’s hunting something ugly, I want him to bring me teeth, blood, and the weapon. Not shadows.

“Airtight,” I say. “Then keep digging.”

He gives me a small incline of his head, and that’s the end of it for now.

Church breaks in low murmurs. We collect our phones out in the hallway and walk back into the noise and fluorescent light, the rumble of engines bleeding through the walls. The clubhouse has the sound of men waiting on an enemy smart enough to play dead, and in the back of my mind, the question lingers without taking full shape.

Are we being watched, or are we expecting ghosts because we already know there’s one in the house?

Sadie is waiting by the bar.

Her newborn is wrapped tight in a soft blue blanket with a club patch stitched neatly onto the corner, a claim staked in thread. She planned that detail. Wanting the club to claim the kid. Nothing about Sadie is accidental. She sits with one leg hooked around the stool rung, hair freshly curled, lips painted a bruised plum. Dressed for effect instead of comfort, even with a baby tucked against her chest.

The boy barely makes a sound. A small fist pushes free from the blanket, pale and stubborn, clutching at nothing.

She looks up when I approach. Exhaustion shadows her eyes, but something sharper sits behind it. Ledger, Rook, Ink, and Ghost linger across the open space, pretending to mind their own business and fooling exactly no one.

Sadie never misses an audience.

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Priest,” she croons softly, shifting the bundle so the baby’s face is visible. “Meet Bryce Edward Adams. Perfect, isn’t he?” She angles her body toward me like a cat stretching into sunlight. “Remember when we used to talk about having a family? About that name?”

I stare at her, deadpan. “You talked about that. I was a horny teenage boy waiting impatiently for my next lay.”

Ledger chokes on his beer behind me. Rook grins into his glass. Sadie’s mask slips, just a flicker, before she smooths it back into place and presses the baby forward.

“Do you want to hold him?”

I shake my head. “He’s a good-looking boy. Ace would’ve been proud of his kid.”

That one lands. I see it.

I’m not hanging around long enough to soften.

I’m not going to give her room to turn my sympathy into an invitation.

“I’m heading out to Wicker Falls,” I say, looking past Sadie to my officers. “Deacon’s still in recovery. I’ll spend some time with him. And I’m showing up for Blue. She’s not going through this alone. I’ll be there a couple of days. Maybe longer.”

Sadie stiffens, lips tightening around whatever she wants to say. She covers it with a brittle smile and looks down at the baby instead, but the cracks are there if you know where to look.

Off to the side, Ghost catches them too. Of course he does.

I take one step toward the door.

Then Sadie’s voice slips out behind me, low enough that she can pretend it wasn’t meant to carry.

“Guess some women know how to make a man chase.”

The room changes.

It’s subtle to anyone else. To me, it’s a blade sliding free.

I stop.

Nobody speaks. Nobody moves.

Slowly, I turn back around. Sadie’s eyes lift to mine, and for half a second, she knows I heard her. Then her face smooths over, all tired mother and wounded innocence.