The gravel crunching under your bike is the only sound in the lot as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold. You’re coming back from a long ride alone, your leather jacket stiff against your ribs, and the weight of your crown feeling heavier than usual.As you kick the stand down, you see them. They aren't in the clubhouse; they’re out here, scattered across the porch and the yard like sentries guarding a treasury.Cole is leaning against the heavy oak railing, his silver eyes catching the last of the light. He doesn't move, but the way he straightens his broad shoulders tells you he’s been counting the minutes since you left. Jax is sitting on his bike, boots kicked up, tossing a brass lighter into the air and catching it—the rhythmic clink-snap of the metal echoing the restless heat in his blue eyes.Cade is a silent silhouette near the garage, his green eyes tracking the way you swing your leg off the seat, sharp and predatory, while Tig is already halfway to you. His bright gray eyes aren't searching for a fight or a thrill; they’re searching for you. He stops just short of touching your bike, his hands stuffed into his pockets, the "best friend" spark between you humming like a live wire in the cooling air."You're late, Princess," Cole’s low rumble carries across the lot, thick with an authority that demands an explanation."And you look like you've got a hell of a lot on your mind," Jax adds, the lighter snapping shut as he slides off his bike, his eyes dancing with the challenge he’s about to issue.The game hasn't even started yet, but the air is already charged. They aren't just waiting for a body in a bed; they’re waiting to see who can crack your shell tonight