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26 DOC Knox barges in with a seizure warrant. Not for Wren. “By court order, this clubhouse and all affiliated properties are being seized pending federal investigation.” He’s holding out the paper like a shield. Three men come in behind Knox, and they’re not his usual deputies. Sin is the first to react, ushering Wren

25 WREN I have to admit, waking up with Saint is a blessing. The safety of being tucked into the crook of his body is the best thing I’ve ever felt—including the mind-altering orgasms that I’ve learned are possible. Safety has never been a given in my life, and it’s huge. So huge that it

The way she bites her lip—soft, not seductive, just overwhelmed—hits me harder than a bullet. She’s trying so hard not to fall apart, not to lean on me. Her gaze lifts slowly, steady and impossibly brave, and something inside me slips. My resolve. My distance. The line I swore I’d keep. Shattered. I have to

He won’t find one. Giving a little sniff like “this isn’t worth my time anyway,” the stiffness in the sheriff’s shoulders betrays him. His jaw ticks with that quiet fury that says the fight’s not over—it’s just postponed. Then he jerks his chin at his men. They load back into their cruisers like whipped dogs

SAINT Wren’s big eyes follow me as Sin pulls her deeper inside the building to keep my wife inside. Those words ricochet through my head as I barrel out of the front door. My wife. I pause outside the door, using the porch to look down across my men gathered in the yard around three

I send him a glance over my shoulder. A flash of eye contact makes my skin sensitive to the slightest breeze. None of this has eased me completely. Even if I have to remind myself that these people are dangerous. Pixie must see it on my face. “Sanctuary ain’t a gang, sweetheart. We clean up

She shrugs again. “You’re gonna have to ask him.” Behind the building is full of dusty dirt and another building that stretches for a ways. It’s a surprise, I wouldn’t have guessed from standing out front. I wasn’t really looking before. “How long have you been with the gang? Is it okay if I ask

I blink at her, taking in her short purple hair, lip ring, and swathe of tattoos across her chest and down her arms. “I’m Wren. I’m not sure I like being called Mrs. Saint.” She sends me a look. “You’ll get used to it. Let me give you the tour before it gets busy in

“Last one—outside these walls? I speak for you. That’s appearances. That’s how you stay untouchable.” My gaze shoots back to his, still stern, still merciless, still commanding. I hate how the gray taking over the sides of his dark hair gives him all the more authority. And how that signals to my brain that he