Chapter 5
AXLE
C age stood just outside his office when I pushed through the front door into the reception area. He didn’t glance up as he scribbled on a paper chart. “She’s stable. No concussion. You’re lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I said.
He snorted. “Sure. Because the angle of impact, helmet you said didn’t fit, and a leather jacket older than you didn’t factor in at all. Good to know. Gonna write that in the notes. ‘Medical miracle due to Axle’s iron will.’”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “I am a god.”
He finally looked up, and his mouth curved slowly. “Yeah? Explain why your divine ass still needs me to patch up your miracles.”
“Because if I fixed everything myself, you’d feel useless.”
Cage smirked. “I’m still writing ‘dumb luck’ in the chart.”
I shrugged, done with the banter and ready to get to my angel.
“You taking her upstairs?”
“Yeah.”
He jerked his chin toward the closest exam room. “She’s half awake, half pissed, and fully stubborn. Try not to argue with her—she’ll lose on points but you’ll lose blood pressure.”
I found her sitting up slowly when I came in, looking like she was testing the strength in her legs.
She looked up, startled, and tensed when she saw me. That wariness was still in her eyes. But there was no fear.
Just a woman with her back to the wall and her fists still up.
Good .
She’d need that steel if she wanted to survive what was coming.
“You came back,” she said, voice low and scratchy from disuse.
“Said I would,” I grunted. “How’s the head?”
“Fine.” She pushed to her feet, a stubborn set to her jaw that made something hot tilt under my sternum. “Where’s my bag?”
“In a safe place.”
Her brows shot up. “I didn’t ask if it was safe. I asked where.”
“And I gave you the answer I’m willing to give.” I stepped closer and reached for her. “Time to go.”
Her brows pulled tight, and she recoiled from me. “Go?”
“You’re not sleeping in a clinic with a door that opens to a hallway anyone can walk through. Not when you’ve got trouble following you like a shadow. I’m taking you somewhere safer.”
Her chin lifted, but the effect was ruined when she wobbled on her feet. “You’ll be safer if you let me go. I don’t want anyone to?—”
I sighed and lifted her into my arms before she could finish the protest. She felt so damn good anchored against me. As if she belonged there.
“What are you—hey! Put me down!”
“Not a chance.”
She pressed her lips together like she wanted to argue but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound ridiculous, considering she’d almost fallen over. Still, she struggled a little, then gave up, crossing her arms with a huff. “This is kidnapping, you know.”
I smirked. “Tell me your name. I’ll let you walk.”
I was lying, and we both knew it.
She glared at me but said nothing.
“Yeah,” I murmured, “that’s what I thought.”
I stepped out of the exam room, and Cage opened the front door and held it without a word. His mouth kicked sideways as his gaze cut to the bundle in my arms and the way I’d already angled my body between her and the world.
“Don’t rip my stitches,” he said mildly.
“You didn’t place any,” I tossed back.
“Exactly.” He let the door swing shut behind us, but not before I heard his bark of laughter.
Jackass.
I carried her across the compound and into the clubhouse, ignoring the few curious glances we got. Nobody said a word. They didn’t dare. I was making it abundantly clear that she was mine.
Twining her arms around my neck, she tucked her face against my throat when I jogged up the stairs, as if the motion had tipped her stomach in a way that wasn’t fun.
“I can walk in a minute,” she muttered when we reached the top step.
“I know,” I said, yet didn’t loosen my hold. “You don’t have to.”
The second-floor corridor had doors all along it. Some were guest rooms, others were for brothers like me who lived at the clubhouse permanently. My door sat at the far end, and after unlocking it, I kicked the hard surface gently, and it opened under the pressure.
My room looked like a man lived in it—gray walls, a low black leather couch set under a window, a heavy pine dresser, gear bags stacked like a tidy tower near the closet. The bed was a king with dark sheets and a headboard a woman could brace her hands on.
Fucking hell. I was suddenly hard as a rock.
Ignoring the tightness in my jeans, I carefully laid her on the bed, then crouched beside her so we were at eye level.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “You shouldn’t be involved. It’s not safe.”
I leaned in, one hand braced beside her head. My voice dropped, rough and deadly quiet. “Too late, angel. You crashed into my world. Now I’m in it.”
The air crackled between us. Her eyes locked on mine, a thousand words she wouldn’t say burning behind those stormy-gray irises.
She looked away, and I stood, gently brushing her hair off her forehead, then reached for the comforter. “Rest.”
She caught my wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Tucking you in,” I said, because that’s what it was, even if the words sounded wrong in my mouth.
The corner of her lips flickered, a surprised quirk that made the injuries on her face look less angry. “That’s…new.”
“What is?”
“A man who looks like you using the phrase ‘tucking you in.’”
I raised a brow. “A man who looks like me?”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “You know what I mean. Hot, tattoos, leather. All scary badass biker.”
It was obvious the second she realized she’d called me hot because her cheeks turned bright red. Fucking adorable. But I let her off the hook, knowing she needed to rest. Plus, teasing her about it might make it even more difficult not to kiss her.
“Can’t say I’ve used it before,” I replied, instead. Then I shrugged one shoulder. “Can use a different phrase if it makes you feel better.”
“It…um…doesn’t make me feel worse,” she whispered, letting go of my wrist.
I smoothed the covers over her, careful around her ribs where Cage had said she’d be tender, and then I took a step back before I could do something impulsive like press my mouth to the spot where her pulse beat in her throat.
“Where’s my bag?” she asked again, less demanding this time.
“In a safe.” I dragged my hand over the back of my neck, feeling the grit of the track lingering. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated.
“Your real one,” I added, so she couldn’t twist my meaning. “The one you answer to when you’re not running.”
Her gaze dropped to my cut, where my road name was stitched in white. “So, Axle, huh?”
I didn’t like the way that name sounded on her tongue any more than I had before.
“Mason,” I told her again. I’d shocked the hell outta myself when I’d corrected her earlier.
We didn’t let anyone but family—or our old lady—call us by our given names.
But for some reason, I’d wanted to hear her say it.
“Mason Novak. My brothers call me Axle. As I said before, to you, I’m Mason. ”
Conflict showed on her face, and for a moment, I thought my honesty might have earned me hers. Then she shook her head. “I can’t tell you mine.”
“You can,” I growled. “You won’t.”
“You don’t understand the danger I’m bringing to your door,” she whispered.
“We’ve had worse at the door.”
“Not like this. You have to let me go.”
I leaned in, braced my palm on the headboard above her shoulder, and caged her in without touching her like I wanted to. Her breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. “Not fucking happening.” My voice was quiet and lethal. “You crashed into my life. Now I’m in it.”
Something flickered through her eyes—fear, yes, but not of me. Relief, maybe, the fragile kind that she couldn’t trust yet. She fought it down, that stubborn mouth of hers flattening. “Mason.”
How she said it—soft, unfamiliar on her tongue—warmed my chest in a way that felt brand new.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I repeated, gentler now but no less sure. “Not until I know what the fuck is going on. You’re being hunted, angel. You’ll stay here. Protected. Guarded.”
“By who?”
“By me. You’re under my protection now.”
Her throat worked. She glanced at the ceiling like it was easier than looking at me. “I won’t be the reason someone gets hurt.”
“You won’t be,” I said. “But if someone tries to hurt you, I’ll be the reason they bleed.”
The soft rhythm of boots and the low-aired murmur of men who know how to talk without being heard came from the hall.
I grabbed a burner phone from the dresser, put my number in it, then dropped it on the nightstand in reach, before moving to the door.
“Call or text me if you need anything. Now sleep.”
She spoke just as my hand found the handle.
“Mason?”
I looked back. “Yeah?”
“If I tell you my name tomorrow, will you…will you still mean it?”
I stared at her for a moment. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. ”
Then I turned to leave, easing the door shut behind me.
Kane was already outside the door, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and a look that said he’d been listening for longer than he let on.
He didn’t move when I stepped out, but his green eyes cut over me, catching every line and all my tension. His cut sat easy across his shoulders, his ink dark under the hall light. If a hurricane learned to walk, it would look like him.
Not many dared to fuck with Kane. Those who did quickly learned why he had a reputation for being merciless to anyone who crossed him.
He was a brilliant businessman, and he’d built a racing empire that had made him a fucking billionaire.
He was also a world-class driver. A legend.
His sharp reflexes, calm dominance, and the way he operated with brutal precision made him lethal in every aspect of his life—the boardroom, the track, and the president of the Redline Kings.
But more than anything, it was the way he valued loyalty and brotherhood that earned him the place as our leader. When we patched, we took an oath to follow him. And I would never break it…unless he ordered me to let my angel go.
He nodded once. “Let’s talk.”
I paused, jaw tight.
He tipped his chin, already a step ahead. “Prospect’s posted at the end of the hall. No one crosses this line without your say-so. From the hall,” he added, the corner of his mouth ticking when my eyes narrowed. “Nobody’s stepping through that door unless it’s you, me, or Cage.”
I stared him down. “No one touches her.”
“I gathered,” he said dryly.
“She’s mine,” I added quietly, the truth settling deep into my chest like a brand.
His gaze didn’t waver. If he disapproved or wanted to make a point about brothers and oversight, I would’ve heard it in that silent beat. Instead, he folded his arms and let the quiet stretch until it felt like a pact.
“Then you keep her alive.” The understanding in his eyes could only come from a man who knew what it was like to be driven by possession and the deep need to protect what was ours.
I nodded.
He turned as I fell into step beside him as we moved down the corridor, two heavy shadows in a hallway full of pictures that told a thousand stories about speed, blood, and wins earned the hard way.
When we rounded the corner, the prospect at the end of the hall straightened reflexively at the sight of Kane, his eyes cutting to me for a split second to make sure I wasn’t about to end his career.
I stopped in front of him, and he went stock-still, swallowing hard.
“You step two inches over that threshold without me telling you to,” I growled, my voice flat as a steel plate, “I’ll break your fucking wrist and feed your bike to my shredder.”
“Yes, sir,” he practically wheezed. “Won’t move, sir.”
Kane’s mouth twitched. “You heard the man.”
I rolled my eyes and followed Kane farther down the hall, ignoring his low chuckle. We didn’t speak until we were far enough away not to be overheard.
“Jax says that drive’s not candy,” he said as he.
“Feels like a wire keyed to a bomb we can’t see.”
“And you brought it home.”
“She brought it to us,” I growled. “And I didn’t let it hit the fucking ground.”
He made a low sound that could’ve been approval. “Edge told me your take. Your instinct for her.”
“She might be carrying something the cops will want.” I reiterated what I’d already told my brothers. “But she didn’t steal it for the thrill. I’m almost positive that she’s a courier who got cut off at the knees.”
Kane was silent for a few moments, staring at me. The full power of his attention practically burned through my vest. Then he asked, “You’re willing to stake the clubhouse on that read?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
“Then I’ll back your play. But you understand what you’re asking me to stack on top of your shoulders.”
“I do.”
“Good,” he said, as if he’d already known the answer. “Because if heat comes, it comes for everybody. And if someone tries to kick in our door to get to a woman under your protection, I will burn them all down and salt the ashes. I need to know you’ll be the first match.”
“I already am,” I said.
After a beat, his lips quirked up at the corners—which was practically a grin for Kane. “Thought so.”
We moved again, quieter, and turned back toward my hall.
When we reached my door, I opened it just enough to look in.
She’d rolled onto her side, one hand under her cheek, her soft, thick hair spilled across my pillow, and her breaths slow and even.
I slowly closed the door, reluctant to let her out of my sight.
“Try not to fall in love tonight,” Kane murmured, without heat.
“Might be too late for that,” I said, before I could catch the words.
Well, shit.
Kane’s brows flicked, amused and resigned at once. “Shit timing, brother.”
“Useless commentary, Prez,” I returned, and the corner of his eyes creased with a quiet laugh.
He clapped a hand to my shoulder—heavy, steady, the kind of weight that meant you weren’t carrying it alone—and then he left me wondering what the fuck I should do next.