“I’m okay.”
Olivia lies without blinking. “Drunk idiots knocked me over.” Her voice is steady enough to pass if someone doesn’t know what to listen for.
I know. I hear the break underneath. The tight thread of pain.
The small catch where her breath doesn’t fill all the way because her head hurts and she’s trying not to show it.
She’s sitting against me on the pavement outside the club, one hand braced near my thigh, the other curled around her phone like she can hold herself together if she grips hard enough.
Tessa and Mia stand in front of us, pale and scared under the streetlight. Tessa doesn’t buy it.
I see that too.
Her gaze cuts from Olivia’s face to mine, then to the alley behind us, then back again. She’s mouthy. Smart. Protective in that way women get when someone they love is hurt and nobody’s giving them enough information to satisfy the panic.
Mia looks closer to falling apart.
“What drunk idiots?” Tessa asks, voice sharp. “Because I’ll go back in there and find them myself.”
“No,” I say. One word.
Her eyes snap to me.
Good. Let it land.
Olivia shifts against me. “Tess, don’t. It was the crowd. Everyone was pushing. I went down.”
“You hit your head,” Mia says, her voice trembling.
“I’m okay.”
“She’s not,” I say.
Olivia turns her head toward me too fast and winces.
My jaw locks.
That tiny wince. The way her pupils don’t track quite right for half a second. The fact that a man put a knife to her throat, dragged her backward into the dark, then shoved her hard enough that her skull cracked against pavement.
My hand curls around her waist. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough to keep myself from doing something else.
Tessa’s eyes sharpen again. “What aren’t you saying?”
Olivia opens her mouth.
I cut in before she can spend herself on another lie. “She needs to get checked.”
“I don’t need—”
“You do.”
Her mouth presses into a line. Normally, I like that look on her. The stubborn one. The one that says she’s getting ready to plant her feet and make me work for every inch. Not tonight. Tonight, it almost breaks what’s left of my control.
“You’re swaying,” I tell her.
“I’m leaning.”
Tessa makes a strangled sound that might be fear trying to turn into anger. “Okay, yeah, we’re done pretending this is fine. Liv, you look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Olivia mutters.
“I mean it lovingly.”
Mia steps closer. “We should call an ambulance.”
“No,” Olivia and I say at the same time.
Tessa looks between us. “That wasn’t creepy at all.”
Olivia closes her eyes briefly, and I feel her weight shift heavier against me.
Enough.
I stand. No warning. No discussion. I slide one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back, and lift her against my chest.
She gasps, then grabs my shirt with both hands. “Cobra—”
“You’re done walking.”
“I can walk.”
“No.”
Tessa looks like she’s about to argue on Olivia’s behalf until Olivia’s face goes pale from the motion. Her hands tighten in my shirt, and she swallows hard. That pushes me closer to the edge.
Head injury.
She’s dizzy. Nauseous. Trying to hide it. Trying to keep her friend and sister calm while the men who grabbed her disappear into the night in a van we don’t have eyes on yet.
I need to move. I need information. I need to tear something apart. Instead, I hold her. Careful. Controlled. Not tight.
Her head tips against my shoulder for one second before she catches herself. “I’m okay.”
I look down at her. I pull my phone out with one hand, keeping her balanced against me like she weighs nothing, like the world didn’t just try to take her from me again.
Blaze answers on the second ring. “Tell me you’re not dragging me out,” he says. “Olivia get you dancing and now your legs are fucking dead and can’t take the bike home.”
“Bring a cage.”
Silence.
All the humor drops.
“What happened?”
“Now.”
His voice changes completely. “Yeah. Got it. I’m on it.”
“Two.”
Another beat.
“Two?”
“I need to get the girls home.”
Blaze doesn’t ask which girls. Doesn’t waste time. “Tessa and the sister?”
“Yeah.”
“You need bodies?”
“Hammer. Joker.”
“Done.”
“Have Doc come by and call Eli,” I add, keeping my voice level because Olivia is listening and so are Tessa and Mia. “I want status updates.”
Blaze goes quiet on the other end. He hears what I’m not saying. “On it,” he says. “Five minutes.”
I hang up.
Tessa steps closer, arms wrapped around herself now. “Who was that?”
“A ride.”
“I have a car.”
“You’re not driving.”
Her brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
I look at her. Not hard. Not like I would a threat. But enough. “You’re rattled. Mia’s worse. You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving.”
Tessa opens her mouth, closes it, then looks at Olivia.
Olivia gives her the smallest nod.
That pisses Tessa off more, but she reins it in because she loves her enough to listen.
Mia rubs her hands over her arms. “Where are we going?”
“Home,” I say.
“With who?”
“Hammer.”
Tessa blinks. “Is that a person?”
Olivia makes a tiny sound against my chest. Almost a laugh.
I look down. Even now. Even after the alley and the knife and her head hitting concrete, some piece of her is still in there, still sparking. It does something to me I don’t have room for. “Yeah,” I answer. “He’s a person.”
Tessa points a shaky finger at me. “You people have weird names.”
“Yeah.”
Olivia murmurs, “You don’t even know the half of it.”
That almost pulls something out of me. Then my phone buzzes.
Eli.
I answer immediately. “Talk.”
His breathing comes through hard and uneven. Running. “Connor got partial plate. Dom’s already running it. Van turned east off Marlow, then cut through side streets. Tate’s on foot trying to catch camera angles. I’m heading toward Parker now. Dom’s pulling a feed from the gas station.”
“Eyes?”
“Not yet.”
My grip on Olivia adjusts. She feels it. Her eyes lift to my face. I keep mine forward. “Get them.”
“We’re trying.”
“Try harder.”
“Yes.”
I end the call before he apologizes again. Not useful. An apology doesn’t put the van back in sight.
Olivia’s fingers curl against my shirt. “They’re following it?”
I look down. “Yes.”
Her throat moves. “Good.”
No.
Not good.
Not yet.
But I don’t say that.
Headlights turn the corner too fast, then slow before pulling up near the curb. Two SUVs. Dark. Clean. Club cages.
Hammer gets out of the first one, broad shoulders filling the space between the vehicle and the street.
Joker steps out of the second. Joker looks at the alley first. Then Olivia in my arms. Then me. His face doesn’t move much, but his eyes go darker. That’s his version of understanding.
Hammer crosses toward Tessa and Mia. “You two with me.”
Tessa looks him up and down despite the fear still sitting on her face. “Are you Hammer?”
He gives one short nod.
“Of course you are,” she mutters. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
Hammer looks at me. “They know anything?”
“No.”
Tessa snaps, “We know she got hurt.”
Hammer looks back at her, and for a second I expect him to scare her quiet without meaning to. Instead, he says, “Then you know enough for tonight.”
Tessa’s mouth opens.
Hammer adds, “You want to help her, get in the cage, let me get you home safe, and don’t make her worry about you while her head’s about to fall off.”
Olivia murmurs, “My head is not about to fall off.”
“It kind of is,” Tessa says, voice shaking again.
Hammer opens the rear door. “In.”
Tessa stares at him. “You always this bossy?”
“Yeah.”
Mia gives a watery laugh, too nervous to be real.
Hammer’s gaze flicks to her, softening by half a degree. “You’re safe. Both of you.”
Tessa swallows, then nods once and helps Mia toward the SUV. Before she gets in, she turns back to Olivia. “Text me as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
Tessa’s eyes find mine. “Take care of her.”
I hold her stare. “Always.”
She studies me for half a second. Then gets in.
Hammer shuts the door, rounds the SUV, and pauses near me. “You good?”
“No.”
His jaw shifts. He nods. Then leaves it alone and gets behind the wheel.
Smart.
Joker opens the back door of the second SUV.
I don’t set Olivia down until I’m inside with her. Even then, I keep her across my lap, one arm behind her back, the other braced along her legs. She doesn’t argue. That tells me enough about how bad she feels.
Joker slides into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t pull out immediately. He looks at us in the rearview mirror. “This feel familiar?”
Olivia’s brow furrows. “What?”
His gaze flicks to her, then back to the windshield. “I drove you that first night.”
Her body stills against me. I feel the memory hit her. Not fully. Not clear. But enough.
She looks up at me. “You didn’t?”
“No.” I keep my voice flat. I don’t say I never let go of her. I don’t say I held her the whole way back, her breathing shallow against my chest, her folder on in my cut, my hands locked around her because putting her down felt impossible.
Joker says it anyway. “He wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”
Olivia’s eyes stay on mine. Something moves through them. Too much. Too soft. Too dangerous.
“Joker,” I say.
His mouth curves slightly. “What? I’m being comforting.”
“You’re shit at it.”
“Been told that.” He pulls away from the curb.
The club disappears behind us, music still spilling out every time the door opens, police probably not far behind if the bouncers have half a brain. Doesn’t matter now. We’re already gone.
Olivia rests her cheek against my chest, and I hate how much lighter it makes me feel. Hate that one small shift from her changes the pressure in my ribs.
“You need Doc,” I tell her.
“I know.” That answer is too easy.
I look down at her. Her eyes are closed, but not in a way I like. “Olivia, eyes.”
“They’re open,” she mumbles, opening them barely.
“Keep them that way.”
She does. Barely.
My thumb moves once along her side before I stop it.
Joker catches it in the mirror. He doesn’t comment.
For once.
My phone rings.
Logan.
I answer. “Yeah.”
His voice is clipped. “You have her?”
“Yes.”
“Condition?”
“Attempted abduction. Knife at her throat. Hit her head. Conscious. Dizzy.”
A low curse comes through the line. “The men?”
“Two. Van.”
“Eli called Dom.”
“I know.”
“Cobra.” The way he says my name puts every muscle in my body on alert.
“What?”
Silence.
“They lost the van.”
Everything inside me goes still. Not quiet. Still.
Olivia feels it. Her eyes open more fully, lifting to mine.
Logan keeps talking. “Partial plate’s being run. Dom’s pulling cameras. We have direction until Marlow, then nothing clean. They knew where to cut.”
My jaw tightens hard enough to ache.
“Cobra.”
“I heard you.”
“We’ll find it.”
I stare through the windshield, through Joker, through the road ahead.
The man in the alley had his hand over her mouth. A knife at her throat. He knew I was with her. He knew enough to mock it. He knew enough to use the fight as cover. That wasn’t luck. That was planning. They adjusted. They watched. They waited for one opening, and for one second, they had her.
My hand tightens carefully against Olivia’s side. Carefully, because I won’t hurt her. Carefully, because if I let the full force of what’s moving through me out, something breaks.
“Cobra,” Logan says again, harder this time.
“What?”
“You come back. You don’t hunt blind.” I don’t answer. “Brother,” he says, voice dropping. “You bring her back. We regroup. We do this right.”
Olivia’s gaze stays on me. Trusting. Tired. Hurting. Alive. That’s the only thing that keeps me from telling Logan no. “Fine,” I say.
The call ends.
Joker’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. He heard enough. He always does. “Lost it?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
His smile is gone now. “Unfortunate.” That word from Joker means something else entirely.
Olivia’s fingers curl against my shirt. “They got away?”
I look down at her. I don’t lie. I won’t ever lie to her. “Yes.”
Fear flickers through her eyes. Then guilt.
I hate that more. “No,” I say.
Her brows pull faintly. “I didn’t—”
“No.”
She closes her mouth. Good. Not because I want her quiet. Because if she starts blaming herself right now, I might tear the seats out of this cage with my bare hands.
Joker turns onto the road leading back to the clubhouse.
The lot will be lit when we arrive. Doc will be waiting. Logan will be pissed. The women will hover. The men will look at me and see the crack in control I haven’t put back together yet.
Let them.
The van is gone. The men are gone. But this isn’t over. They had her once on a street. Almost had her in the alley. There won’t be a third time.
I look down at Olivia, at the bruising already beginning near her throat where the knife pressed, at the shadow of pain behind her eyes, at the way she’s still trying to stay awake because I told her to. The rage doesn’t burn. It freezes.
Hard. Clear. Permanent.
Fuck.
This isn’t over.