Chapter Four
Janelle
T he night falls quiet around the small, secure house the Wild Jesters arranged for us—the quiet that's almost too still, where you can hear the faintest sounds from miles away. I stand at the window, peering through the blinds, every shadow making my heartbeat faster. I know it’s ridiculous, but fear has a funny way of sticking around after what you’ve been through. You’re always waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.
Wolf says she’s having some club brothers station outside for extra security. Even if her presence is commanding and having her reassurance is a comforting reminder that we aren’t alone in this fight. I watch their dark figures patrol slowly around the yard, their heads turning at every little noise. Their dedication is something fierce, almost like predators keeping an eye out for their prey.
Wolf in house earlier today, making sure everything is good for us. The way she’s looking into my eyes never breaking contact sends a shiver down my spine. It isn't a fear-induced shiver, but one of these rare moments where someone truly sees past your outer appearance and connects with the inner you.
“Momma?” Dillion’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, his face scrunches in confusion. “Why are you just standing there?”
I force a smile. “Just making sure everything’s all right outside.”
He nods, but his brows furrow with worry. "Can I stay up with you for a while?" he asks, his voice small.
"Of course, sweetheart," I say, pulling up a chair beside mine. He climbs up and sits beside me, eyes scanning the darkness outside.
We sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks again. "Is Wolf going to keep us safe forever?" he whispers, the weight of his question heavier than he probably realizes.
I squeeze his hand, reassurance filling my words even if my heart still harbors fears. "Yes, Dillion. Wolf and her friends are very good at what they do. They won’t let anything happen to us." I hope I believe it as much as he did.
He seems to take comfort by that and leans his head against my shoulder. "I like her," he admits shyly. "She's like a superhero."
I chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. "She kind of is, isn't she?"
"Yeah," he mumbles, drifting closer to sleep.
Just then, my phone buzzes on the table. I glance at the screen—it was a message from Wolf.
WOLF: Everything’s secure outside and there are no signs of trouble. Please try to get some rest tonight.
Reading her words make me feel a little more at ease.
JANELLE: Thank you, Wolf. We feel safer knowing you're here.
Dillion fell asleep by then, his breath rhythmic and calm against the backdrop of the silent night. I gently pick him up and carry him to his room, tucking him in beside his brother, who is already lost in dreams of whatever fantasy land he’s been reading about today.
Returning to the living room, I consider turning on the TV for some mindless distraction but opt against it. The stillness is unsettling, yet I know it is just my nerves trying to find a reason to stay alert. Instead, I sit by the window and let my mind wander back to earlier conversations with Wolf.
Her presence is so magnetic, almost overwhelming at times. Something about her makes you want to trust her immediately—even more so because she carries herself with such an air of confidence tempered with gentle understanding. Whenever she speaks, her voice has a reassuring quality that seems to ease the tightness that often grips my chest these days. Yet, there’s also something guarded about her, a depth I can't quite reach but desperately want to. It feels like she’s holding back, maybe protecting herself—or perhaps me—from something.
As I sit there, lost in thought, a faint noise outside catches my attention. My heart leaps into my throat as I peer through the blinds again. It’s probably one of the Wild Jesters on watch, but after everything, any little sound felt like a potential threat.
“Everything okay?” The deep voice startles me, and I turn to see one of the MC members, Tank, peeking through the doorway.
I nod, trying to calm my racing heart. “Yes, just being overly cautious,” I reply, managing a weak smile.
Tank nods and steps inside for a moment. "Wolf told us to check on you every hour or so. She wants to make sure you and the kids are feeling safe."
I appreciate that, and a part of me feels relieved not to be alone despite the house's quietness. "Thank you, Tank. Tell Wolf we're all very grateful."
He smiles a rough, weathered smile that speaks of many battles. "Will do. Try to get some rest; we're here all night."
My gaze returns to the quiet street outside as he disappears into the shadows.
Although dark and empty, knowing that Wolf and her club are out there make the shadows less menacing.
I lean back against the chair, pulling the blanket closer around my shoulders. The fabric is soft but did little to ward off the chill that seems to seep into the house's bones tonight. It could be the echo of my worries or the coolness of an October night closing in.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me out of my reverie. It’s another text from Wolf.
WOLF: Just checking in. The doors and windows are all secure. How are you holding up inside?
I stare at the screen for a moment before typing back.
ME: Better knowing you're out there. It's quiet inside...too quiet sometimes.
Sending that message feel like admitting a weakness, but it doesn't feel like a risk with Wolf. There’s a comfort in her straightforwardness, her blunt assurance that she’s there, watching over us.
WOLF: Quiet is good. Quiet means safe. But I get it—it can be unsettling.
Her reply is quick and to the point. It’s funny how she can project such strength in the short exchanges and calm me down simultaneously.
ME: Thanks, Wolf. Maybe quiet isn’t so bad after all.
I sit the phone beside me, letting out a long breath. Dillion’s earlier question echoes: would Wolf keep us safe forever? In the back of my thoughts, a part of me wishes that could be true, not just for the safety she brings but for the peace that comes with her presence.
Before long, my eyelids begin to droop, the mental exhaustion of the day pulling me toward sleep. Knowing watchful eyes guard the night, I feel like I could rest for once. The reality of our situation hasn't changed, but the feeling—a fleeting sense of normalcy—lulls me deeper into relaxation than I haven’t managed in weeks. It’s a welcomed feeling.