Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
brI
Brooke decides we need groceries, something normal and boring that might help keep my brain from spiraling into worst-case scenarios, and I go along with it because sitting still feels way too much like drowning.
Rev is already leaning against his bike at the end of the driveway when we step outside, dark shades on and arms crossed like he’s auditioning for the role of silent attack dog; he doesn’t say a word, just nods once and swings onto his bike when we head for the car.
Brooke drives while I stare out the window, pretending I’m not checking my phone every few seconds even though Blade still hasn’t texted, not even a simple “you good,” and the pressure in my chest feels like someone shook a bottle full of guilt and fear and now I’m holding it shut with bare hands.
Inside the store, Brooke keeps talking about normal stuff just to fill the silence, but I catch maybe half of it because my mind keeps drifting to Blade and everything that could be going wrong that I don’t know about.
We move through the aisles fast and grab the usual things: milk, eggs, pasta, and Brooke even tosses a candy bar into the cart like she thinks sneaking chocolate into the trip will magically fix my mood.
It doesn’t, but I appreciate the effort.
We pay and step out into the parking lot, and while Brooke loads bags into the trunk, I scan the area more than I probably should, catching Rev a row over pretending to scroll his phone even though his eyes are constantly moving, watching every person, every car.
That’s when the feeling hits, a slow prick at the back of my neck that has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with instinct, and my spine goes straight as a rod while my pulse starts racing.
I look again, more carefully this time, and that’s when I see it: a black SUV with windows tinted so dark it looks like someone painted them, sitting across from us with the engine running and angled just enough that there’s no question it’s watching.
My hand tightens on Brooke’s arm before I’m even aware of reaching for her. “Brooke,” I murmur, “please tell me you see that.” She follows my gaze, her whole body going tight in a way that tells me I’m not overreacting, and she quietly mutters, “Get in the car.”
We don’t run because running starts shit, but we move fast enough that no one would call us calm either, and Rev fires up his bike instantly, pulling up beside us like he’s just merging into traffic even though I can see his hand already hovering near his holster.
Brooke pulls out casual, steady hands on the wheel like she hasn’t already mapped five escape routes, and I force myself to breathe while sneaking another look at the side mirror.
The SUV moves too, rolling forward right as we head toward the lot exit, and Brooke clicks her tongue once, just a tiny sound that says she’s acknowledging the threat without wanting to scare me more than I already am.
“Okay,” she says evenly, “we’re going straight home, no stops, no side streets, and Rev is behind us, so we’re fine. ”
It does not feel fine.
We make a turn and the SUV makes the exact same one.
“That’s one,” I whisper, trying not to sound like I’m counting down to disaster.
“I’m counting,” Brooke says, jaw so tight it could crack.
Rev stays glued to our bumper at the red light, shoulders stiff and head on a swivel, while I check the mirror again and watch that SUV mirror us perfectly.
“That’s twice,” Brooke mutters under her breath.
“Okay. Calling Mason.” She taps the wheel controls and Mason picks up on the first ring, like he already knew this call was coming.
“Talk,” he demands. Brooke doesn’t waste a second.
“We’re being tailed. Black SUV. No plates.
” My stomach drops. No plates means they don’t care who sees them.
Mason’s tone shifts instantly. “Rev, you with them?” Rev’s voice comes over the speakers, calm but tense. “Right behind them.” “Good,” Mason replies. “Both of you go straight to Brooke’s. Do not stop. Brothers are on their way.” “Yes, Pres,” Brooke answers, eyes locked on the road.
I dig my fingers into the seatbelt because my heartbeat won’t slow down and that SUV is still there, still keeping the exact same distance like they’ve practiced this. Rev gives a small hand signal out his window, two fingers down low where only we can see. He’s confirmed it’s bad.
I try to breathe quietly, pretend I’m not terrified, but my mind keeps screaming that this is happening because of me, because I couldn’t listen, because I decided tacos were more important than my own damn safety.
Brooke keeps telling me we’re almost home and everything is fine, but the words don’t stick because nothing about this feels okay.
Finally we turn onto her street and the SUV keeps going, drifting past us like the whole point was to be seen and felt, not caught. Somehow that feels worse. Brooke pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, and Rev swings his bike in right behind, scanning the street before we even unbuckle.
I climb out slowly, legs shaky, groceries completely forgotten in the trunk, and the air feels different now. Heavier. Thinner. Like fear followed us home and got comfortable.
We barely get the groceries inside before engines roar up the street.
Not one bike, but multiple. The kind of sound that rattles windows and sends a warning straight through your bones.
Rev is already outside with his hand on his gun, scanning the street like he’s waiting for an ambush instead of backup.
Brooke and I step out onto the porch and my pulse is pounding against my ribs so hard it hurts.
A full line of bikes pulls into the driveway and along the curb, and even without seeing the cuts, I’d know who they are.
Familiar colors. Familiar faces. And Blade is the first one off his bike.
He looks lethal. His jaw is tight and his whole body is coiled, eyes sweeping the neighborhood like he’s deciding who needs to die first, not once looking at me.
There’s no softness there, no sign of the man who laughs against my neck or watches movies with his hand on my thigh.
Just a soldier in a war I helped start without meaning to.
The bottom drops out of my stomach so fast I’m surprised I’m still standing.
Riot and Ghost dismount too, and Mason’s truck rolls up behind them, the whole club turning Brooke’s quiet street into a storm that makes neighbors peek through blinds before slamming them shut again. Blade goes straight to Rev, “You saw plates?” His voice is low but vicious.
Rev shakes his head. “None. The windows were dark and the driver never got out.”
Blade mutters a curse, hands fisting at his sides like he wants to destroy something just to feel better.
And I’m standing on the porch hugging myself like the biggest idiot on the planet, watching the man I love talk about me like I’m bullet points in a mission briefing.
Not his girl. Not someone he loves. Just a problem that needs securing.
It stings so hard I feel it in my lungs.
Brooke brushes her hand against mine like she’s trying to keep me from crumbling, but there’s a knot in my throat that won’t let me swallow down how much this hurts.
Blade finally looks toward the house, eyes checking windows, doors, exits, angles.
He sweeps right past me again, his gaze grazing over me for a split second.
It’s not soft or worried. It’s blame and fear and something colder than both.
Then his attention is gone again and he’s talking to Mason instead.
“We need two brothers posted here, all day and all night,” Blade says, voice dark and steady.
“Nobody goes anywhere alone until we find out who the hell was driving that SUV.”
Mason nods like he already knew that was coming.
“Riot and Ghost can stay until shift change,” he replies.
Blade scrubs both hands over his face like he hasn’t slept, like he’s still half drunk, like he’s barely holding on.
“They came after her,” he says to Mason, quieter but still furious. “They’re testing us.”
Mason gives him a look that straight up says obviously. Blade is unraveling and I can see it, even though he refuses to look in my direction like I’m not worth a glance. And that… that hurts more than anything he said last night.
Brooke steps closer, planting herself between us like she’s daring him to look me in the eye. “She’s terrified,” she says, low but fierce. “And you acting like she’s not standing right here isn’t helping.”
Blade’s jaw flexes hard, but he still doesn’t look at me.
He keeps his eyes locked on Mason and says, “Her feelings aren’t the priority.
Her safety is.” That’s it. No hesitation.
Not even a second thought. Like the two can’t exist together.
Like caring and protecting are choices, and he’s already made his.
The words hit me like a crack straight through the ribs. Because safety is something you give to strangers on the street. Feelings are reserved for the people you love. And right now? I’m not feeling like someone he loves.
He finally lifts his gaze, but it slides over me like I’m just part of the scenery. He turns away again before any hurt can show on his face. But it’s too late. I feel every inch of distance he’s built between us. Every wall he’s thrown up. Every refusal to let himself see the damage he’s doing.
I thought I was his, but tonight, I’m not even sure I’m his problem.
Brooke tries to reach for my hand again, but I step away because if she touches me right now I’m going to cry in front of everyone, including the man who is pretending I don’t exist. So I walk inside quietly, fast, before the club sees how easily Blade just broke me.
I shut the door and lean against it, trying to breathe around the ache in my chest; Blade and the club are here, ready to protect me like I’m the center of this whole damn crisis, yet somehow I’ve never felt farther from him, and I manage to hold it together for maybe thirty seconds before something snaps, fury boiling up and refusing to let me hide, so I push off the door, whirl around, and stomp right back outside, marching down the porch steps like a woman officially done being dismissed and treated like she doesn’t matter.
I stop right in front of Blade, chin up, arms crossed tight over my chest so no one sees how hard my hands are shaking. “Blade, look at me you son of a bitch!”
Riot raises his brows like he can’t believe I’d just poke the bear. Ghost looks entertained, leaning back slightly like he’s waiting for the fireworks. Rev stares straight at Blade, not me, muscles tense because he knows exactly how close this man is to coming undone.
Blade finally looks down at me. And I hate the look he gives me. It’s made of fear. And fury. And control hanging by a thread. “You’re done out here,” he growls. “Go back inside. Now. I’m not arguing with you about this.”
“That’s hilarious coming from you,” I shoot back, “since you seem to think ignoring me solves everything.”
His jaw grinds. “This isn’t about talking through your feelings, Bri. It’s about survival.”
“And how would you know anything about how I’m surviving,” I shoot back, “when you won’t even meet my eyes?”
He gets so close I have to tilt my chin up. “Inside,” he repeats, voice rough enough to scrape my skin. “Last time I’m saying it.”
“I’m not a child you get to order around,” I say, even though my voice shakes traitorously. “I don’t need your permission to exist.”
He flinches at that, so fast no one else probably sees it. But I do. And it only hurts worse. “You don’t understand what’s coming,” he says, tone low, almost desperate. “You don’t understand what I see when I close my eyes.”
“And you don’t understand,” I whisper, voice breaking now despite how hard I fight it, “how it feels to love someone who would rather talk to everyone else but you.”
He steps in closer, towering, trying to cage me with sheer presence. “Get inside,” he repeats, the command slicing the air between us. “Last warning.”
“Oh trust me,” I say, a humorless laugh slipping out, “I got my fill of warnings last night. And yelling. And being treated like I’m stupid.”
He flinches. Barely. Enough that I see it. Enough that rage and heartbreak twist deeper in my chest.
“I’m not a child you get to order around,” I say, even though my voice shakes traitorously. “I don’t need your permission to exist.”
For half a second, his face changes. Pain cracks through his anger. I wish I didn’t see it because it makes me want to forgive him on the spot. But I’ve taken enough hits tonight.
I step back before anyone sees me fall apart. “I’m going inside. Not because you told me to. Because I refuse to stand out here and breathe air full of bullshit.”
I turn away, walk up those porch steps without a hint of hesitation, and close the door behind me before the tears slip free. My heart is racing and my hands hurt from clenching them so tight.