Chapter 15

15

D awson knocked on my open apartment door. I was sprawled across my bed, a bit high, but not high enough to deal with anyone.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Dawson asked me when I turned my head to look at him.

I sat up. “That we were done.” I cocked my head to stare at him. Dawson looked wary. “Why?”

“He just cut the run short. He’s on his way home now.”

“ Fuck ,” I swore. A president didn’t cut his run short for shit, and the fact that he was on his way home early meant I was in a world of shit. I slid off my bed, shooing him away. “I’m not going to be here when he gets home. I’m done with his stupid bullshit, and I’m not standing by, being made out to be the only bad person in this entire situation.”

Dawson sighed. “He’ll come after you, Olivia. I’ve never known him to cut a run short. Club comes first for him. You know that.”

I snorted. “I wish him luck in finding me,” I retorted as I snatched my duffel bag from the top of my closet.

With a shake of his head, Dawson left my room. He couldn’t force me to stay, and he knew that. The club didn’t own me, and I didn’t wear a man’s cut on my back.

When Dawson had said that Elijah was on his way home, I hadn’t thought to ask how close.

And I should have.

I was packing the last of my clothes into the bag when I heard the bikes ride onto the lot.

“Oh, God, no,” I groaned, thunking my head against the wall.

“What the fuck did I tell you about keeping your goddamn head down?!” I heard Elijah bark at Whitney. “The women who work here are my problem! You got a problem with one of them, you fucking take it up with me! You keep your goddamn mouth shut around them!”

“Elijah—”

“Go the fuck home!” he barked at her. It was silent for a moment, the only sound being Whitney shutting the clubhouse door as he left. “Olivia!” Elijah bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

My gut plummeted to my feet.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I heard his boots pounding up the stairs. I rushed to close my door, but he beat me to it, shoving it open when I pushed against it. He stalked inside and slammed it shut, flipping the lock.

I swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” he seethed as he stepped towards me, “but I’m about to fucking remind you where you stand with me, doll.”

Dear Lord, please help me .