Chapter 23 Isabella
A week later, we pull up in front of the safehouse where the women and children have been staying. Ice parks his bike next to Vapor’s and waits as I get off. He swings his leg over the bike with a stiff grunt, masking the wince that flickers across his face. He thinks he’s fooling me, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles tighten against the lingering pain. I looked at the bite area this morning while he was still sleeping. There’s still some swelling and bruising, but that’s to be expected. After getting bit by a venomous snake, he should be resting, but the man’s stubborn as hell.
However, there’s no trace of self-pity in his gaze. He’s acting like everything’s just dandy, so I go along with it. He’s the toughest man I know, and that makes my chest swell with pride. Despite everything my brother tried to take from him—his life, his brothers, his future—Ice still stands. Unshaken. Unbreakable.
I brush my fingers over his knuckles as we climb the front steps, murmuring, “Love you."
Ditto,” he rumbles, his voice a mix of amusement and quiet devotion. Even when he’s vulnerable, he exudes raw power. It’s the sexiest thing a man can do, and I’m one hundred percent here for it.
When we reach the front door, it swings open. One of the men guarding the house welcomes us inside. “How’s the leg?”
“Still attached,” Ice says, smirking.
“Damn, brother, you can dodge fists, but you got taken out by a legless assassin?” The man chuckles.
Another patched member pokes his head out of the living room. “Heard you lost a fight to a murder spaghetti. That’s a new low.”
“Hiss stick got ‘em good,” Vapor calls from the kitchen.
“Assholes,” Ice grumbles, still grinning.
The scent of simmering spices and roasting meat fills the air, drawing us into the kitchen. Babet’s at the stove, working her culinary magic. Blue’s bent over pulling fresh loaves of bread from the oven. The yeasty warmth of fresh bread embraces us like a promise of homecoming. Inside the safehouse, the violent, treacherous world feels miles away.
“Smells like heaven,” Ice says, his voice lighter than I’ve heard in days. He heads straight to the table where Vapor’s sitting. After getting settled, he pours a glass of whiskey.
“Doc says no booze!” I grab the glass out of his hand and toss the liquor into the sink.
“Doesn’t make any sense. It’ll help me.”
“Nope,” Babet says from in front of the stove. “It slows healing. If you want to keep that leg, you need to do what the doc says.”
“Listen to the woman,” Vapor says before tossing back his glass of whiskey. “Don’t worry. Won’t drink it all.”
“You better not,” Blue says, arching a brow. “No one likes whiskey dick.”
“I’ve never had whiskey dick in my life,” he protests.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Babet says over her shoulder.
“What are you making?” I slide into the seat beside Ice, our sides touching.
“Try it.” Babet fishes a perfectly fried boudin ball out of the pan and tosses it into a small bowl. “It’s milder than usual so Blue can eat it.”
I bite into the crackling skin of a perfectly fried boudin ball, and it shatters beneath my teeth, releasing a rush of steaming, spiced rice and pork that melts on my tongue with a buttery, peppery heat. The scent of garlic and green onions fills the air, mingling with the distant sizzle of hot oil, while my fingertips, slick with golden crumbs, tingle from the lingering warmth of that first irresistible bite.
“Baby’s fighting back if I eat spicy stuff,” Blue says.
“Babet made a huge batch of white rice for you, babe.” Vapor pats his lap. “Come sit for a bit while the bread cools.”
“Okay.” Blue slides into his lap, giggling when he wraps his arms around her waist and whispers something in her ear.
“Hey, Ice, how’s the leg holding up?” Babet asks, her voice tinged with motherly concern.
“Still screwed on, thankfully,” Ice quips, shifting to find a comfortable position. “Though I think it might have developed its own heartbeat.”
“You shoulda bit it back.” Babet points the tongs at Ice. “Teach the damn thing who’s boss.”
“If I hadn’t shot its head off, I would have stuffed the fucker.”
Laughter bubbles up from the group.
“Just make sure you rest,” Babet says before turning to pull two more boudin balls out of the oil and setting them on a plate covered in paper towels.
“Bedrest is for the dead. We’ve got work to do,” Ice says.
My heart clenches because I know this isn’t just about refusing to show weakness. It’s about protecting those who can’t protect themselves, a vow written in his very marrow. Ice lives for the club, for the lives he’s dedicated to saving. It’s a weight he carries without faltering, even now, when he has every right to take things easy.
“Those kids, the women… they depend on us,” he continues. “I won’t just sit back while there are still people out there who need us.”
“You won’t be any good to the club long-term if you don’t heal correctly,” Vapor says, always the voice of reason.
“Yeah, I know,” Ice grumbles.
I study him, the lines etched into his face from pain and responsibility, and my admiration intertwines with concern. Ice pushes himself too hard, always has. But it’s that relentless drive, that fierce need to shield others from harm, that binds me to him. In this world of chaos and cruelty, he’s a pillar of strength, a beacon of hope for those who have none.
And as much as I fear for him, for what all this might cost, I can’t help but stand with him, united in battle. Because in the end, we’re fighting for something greater—a chance at redemption, a sliver of peace in a world that knows little of it. And for Ice, for the bond that’s grown between us, I’d walk through fire.
“When you’re ready, we’ll fight,” I say quietly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Together.”
His fingers tighten around mine in silent acknowledgment.
“I got an update on the railroad earlier today,” Vapor says.
“Hit me with it,” Ice replies, a steely edge to his voice.
“Some of the women and children are being moved as we speak. We’ve got safehouses set up from here to Cali, and some are heading back to Mexico.” His hands move expressively, punctuating each location. “Fang pulled some serious strings to make sure everyone makes it to their new hometowns safely. We’re still working on finding spots for a few of the families, but we’ll get it all figured out.”
“Good.” Ice’s lips twitch up in a brief smile. “They deserve a fresh start, far from this hell.”
“Damn straight,” Vapor agrees. “But there’s more pressing business. Juan Vasquez.”
At the mention of my brother’s name, my heart clenches.
Ice’s gaze snaps to Vapor, sharp as a blade. “You find him yet?”
“Not yet,” Vapor admits, his expression hardening. “Fang’s been combing through the hospitals and morgues, but there’s no sign of him. We’ve got eyes on his compound, but he hasn’t been back there.”
“Then we keep looking,” Ice asserts. “Until I see his body, I won’t believe he’s not out there, planning his next move.”
“Agreed.” Vapor’s jaw clenches. “We’ll turn over every stone if we have to.”
“Good.” Ice glances at me, his silver-blue eyes reflecting a fierce protectiveness. “I’m not taking any chances with Isabella’s safety.”
The tension in the room ratchets up a notch, but I take Ice’s hand and squeeze it to remind him he’s not alone in this fight. “We’ll find him. In the meantime, we’re safe. You, Vapor and the others built a strong club. They’ll keep me safe. It’s not all on your shoulders.”
Ice’s gaze softens as he looks back at me. “You’re right. Now that you’re mine, you’ll be safer than ever.”
“I know I will.” Leaning forward, I press my lips against his in a gentle yet firm kiss, sealing our mutual support. For a moment, time stands still, and all the dangers lurking outside our circle fade into oblivion. It’s just us, bound by trust and the promise of protection.
The sound of advancing footsteps pulls us back to reality. We turn to see Renata and Claudia entering the kitchen. Renata’s weary eyes brighten when she sees me, a tired smile gracing her lips.
“Isabella, gracias ,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m finally sleeping through the night, for the first time in years.”
My heart swells at her words, and I can’t help but smile. “I’m so glad to hear that, Renata. How is Claudia doing?”
“ Muy bien ,” Renata continues, her daughter clinging to her side.
“Have you decided if you’re staying in the U.S.?” I ask Renata, curious about her plans now that they’re free from the cartel’s grasp.
“ Sí ,” she nods, her eyes distant yet hopeful. “I have never seen snow. I want to live somewhere north, as far from Mexico as I can get.”
“That can be arranged,” Vapor chimes in from across the table, his voice resolute. “We’ll make sure you and Claudia find a place where you can start anew. Somewhere safe.”
“ Gracias ,” Renata repeats, her gratitude deep and sincere.
Babet reaches into a cookie jar, her hands gentle as she draws out a chocolate chip treasure and presents it with a grandmotherly flourish to Claudia. The child’s eyes light up with pure joy, the type of happiness that only comes from simple acts of kindness in a world that’s been anything but kind.
“ Gracias, Senora Babet ,” she says. There’s a tremble in her voice, a mix of relief and the overwhelming emotion of a mother finally able to dream of a future for her daughter.
The spiky-haired matriarch smiles, her punkish appearance softened by the love that radiates from her every pore. “ De nada, mi amor . Take care of yourself and your daughter.”
“I will.”
With a final nod, Renata guides Claudia out of the kitchen and toward the promise of a new beginning. Children are resilient. In time, both Claudia and Renata will thrive. They just need to get away from NOLA.
Ice shifts beside me, grimacing as he adjusts his position in his chair. I catch the subtle furrow in his brow, the sign that pain is gnawing at him again. But it’s more than physical—it’s the weight of responsibility he carries, the unending drive to keep us all safe. I can’t help but admire him, even as my heart aches to take some of that burden from his shoulders.
“Time to head back to the inn,” I say, my voice soft but firm. He can’t argue with me, not about this.
“Damn woman, always trying to get me back into bed,” Ice grumbles as he stands. “Can’t get enough of me, I guess.”
“You know I can’t.” I smile, knowing full-well that he’s using his bravado to mask his pain. I’m happy to play along so he can save face in front of his brothers.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” Vapor says.
“Hey, did Fang update you on the clubhouse?” Ice asks.
“Heading over there in a bit. I’ll text you when I know something. Shouldn’t be more than a few days now. I told Fang the guys are sick of living at the inn.”
“We are too,” Ice says.
“Oh, it’s fine for now.” I smile at Vapor. “But eventually, we’d like more space.”
“The new clubhouse? Shit’s gonna be a fortress,” Vapor says, grinning. “Better than the last one. You’ll see.”
“Looking forward to it. Do you think everyone will be safe there?” I ask, thinking about Juan’s threat, the one that never materialized.
"Fortified, locked down, and armed to the teeth,” Vapor says. “If Juan resurfaces, we’ll be waiting.”
“Or if one of his men take over,” Ice adds.
“I’m glad he never made good on his plan to destroy the new clubhouse.”
“We are, too.” Vapor pauses for a moment before continuing, “Never did figure out who the mole was, but someone ratted us out to the cartel. Whoever it was needs to pay.”
“Fang’s working on that, trying to find the snitch,” Ice says.
“When he does, Diablo’s got plans for him.” Vapor scowls. “But enough of all that. Get out of here and get some sleep. We need you on your feet ASAP. The cartel’s not dead. Not yet, anyway.”
“They will be. Once we rebuild the club and add even more men, we’ll be able to get rid of the cartel once and for all.”
“Damn straight.” Vapor slaps Ice on the back as we say our goodbyes.
As Ice and I approach the front door, the soft creak of stairs draws my attention upward. Maria descends, her presence warm yet tinged with the sorrow of impending separation. Her eyes glisten, reflecting the turmoil swirling within both of us. Without a word, she wraps her arms around me in an embrace that speaks volumes—tight, desperate, as if she’s trying to imprint the memory into our very bones.
“ Voy a extranarte tanto ,” she murmurs into my shoulder, her voice muffled by my hair. “I’m going to miss you.”
“ Cuándo se van tú y Pedro ?” I ask, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze.
“We leave tomorrow morning,” she replies, the words heavy with the finality we both dread. “I can’t believe I’ll never see you again.”
“It’s the only way to keep you safe,” I say, steady even as my heart aches. “But you’ll always be my sister, no matter how far you go.”
Our lives have been intertwined by shared secrets and silent understandings, a bond forged in the shadows of a world that demanded cunning just to survive.
“I wish I could at least send you a postcard to let you know we got there safely,” she says.
“The club will make sure of it. You shouldn’t send anything. Be careful,” I advise her, slipping into the role of protector one last time. “Follow the club’s rules and you will stay safe.”
It’s an order, and a plea. She needs to vanish, become a ghost to the life she once knew.
“ Lo entiendo ,” Maria nods, her brown eyes resolute. “Your abuela would be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
I twist the watch around my wrist and smile. “She would be, wouldn’t she.”
For a moment, she stands tall, a pillar of strength amidst the chaos that has defined our existence. Then she hugs me again, a fierce grip that conveys love, gratitude, and a thousand unspoken goodbyes.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” I tell Ice, turning back to him.
With a final glance at Maria, I walk away from the bittersweet farewell. I meet Ice at the doorway. “Ready, babe?”
“Let’s go.”
Outside, the fading light cloaks us in its dusky hues. I wait until he’s settled on the bike before I climb on behind him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lean against him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Let’s go home.”
“Wish we could go for a longer ride.” He revs the engine.
“Trust me, there are things to ride that you might find just as exhilarating,” I tease, lacing my tone with sensual promise.
“Is that so?” His voice drops an octave, a hint of playfulness coloring the hypnotic timbre that always sends a shiver down my spine.
“Absolutely,” I affirm, reaching around to rub my hands across his chest. “Just focus on healing and leave the sexy comforts to me.”
“Sexy comforts?” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Bella, you sure know how to make a man forget his pain.”
“Better than any drugs ever could,” I reply with a smirk.
As we pull away from the safehouse, the ghosts of my past loosen their grip. If Juan’s alive, the club will find him. But I doubt it. If the bullet didn’t end his life, the gators would have smelled his blood. Ending up gator food is a fitting end to a monster’s life.
For the first time in my life, I’m free. No chains, no fear—just the open road ahead, waiting to be ours. And with each mile that stretches out behind us, I feel the tethers of my past unraveling, giving way to the freedom I’ve fought so hard to claim. Ice saved me, but I like to think I saved him too. Despite the pain he’s dealing with, he seems happier than ever. We may have started off in a very rocky relationship, but now it’s solid. I’ve got his back, and he’s got mine. We’re in this together. Forever.