Chapter 31 #2
Safe. The word lands wrong. I glance toward the window. The sun hasn’t even crested the trees yet, the parking lot washed in gray light and mist, but the bike’s already packed like he planned this before I woke up.
A chill creeps up my spine. “Seth maybe we should go back.”
His jaw tics, the first crack in his calm. “Back?”
“To the clubhouse,” I press, sitting straighter. “I shouldn’t have left. Swag’s probably losing his mind right now.”
Seth stands slowly, towering over me now, and there’s something different in his expression. Something colder.
“Swag had time to prove you mattered,” he says, voice sharper than before. “And what did he do? He left you there to rot while he ran off to clean up someone else’s mess.”
“That’s not fair?—”
“It’s true.” His voice rises, not loud but cutting, each word deliberate. “And now I’m the one keeping you safe, Jo-Leigh. Not him. Not the club. Me.”
My pulse hammers in my ears, panic buzzing under my skin. “Keeping me safe from what?”
His lips press into a thin line, and for a second, I think he won’t answer.
Then, slowly, he says, “From the storm that’s coming. From Langston. From all the shit you don’t even know you’re in the middle of.”
I shake my head, standing now, heart pounding. “Then we need to go back. Swag can handle it, the guys?—”
“No.” The single word is sharp, final.
I freeze.
Seth steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my chin up to look at him, his voice lowering into something almost gentle but it’s the kind of gentle that hides teeth.
“We won’t go back,” he says.
There’s something in his tone that makes my stomach twist, a quiet possession in the way his eyes hold mine. And suddenly, the walls of this shitty little motel room feel smaller, the air thinner.
I recoil and he notices. His expression softens, just barely, like he’s trying to reel me back in.
“I need you to trust me. Just until this blows over.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms, but I force myself to nod, because what else can I do?
“Good,” he says, like it’s settled, turning back toward the window.
But my chest is tight, my mind racing, the dread clawing higher with every passing second. Because I don’t know where he’s taking me. I don’t know who he called. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m at.
“We’ll hit the road when you’re ready,” he says.
I nod, trying to come up with a plan, but fail. Finally, I have no choice but to tell him I’m ready.
The road blurs past in streaks of gray and green, the mist burning off under the late-morning sun. The roar of the bike used to feel like freedom. Now it feels like a trap I can’t crawl out of.
Seth hasn’t said a word since we left the motel, his shoulders stiff, his hands locked tight on the bars. Every time I shift behind him, his grip tightens, like he’s afraid I might jump off and run.
My mind won’t stop spinning. The longer we ride, the louder the doubt gets, pounding in my chest with every mile we put between me and Swag.
I made a mistake.
I know it now.
I lean close, raising my voice against the wind. “Seth, we should go back.”
He doesn’t answer.
I tap his shoulder, harder this time. “I said we need to turn around?—”
His hand snaps up, grabbing mine mid-motion, his grip hard enough to make me flinch. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, just holds my wrist until I stop struggling. Then he lets go and guns the throttle, the bike surging forward beneath us.
My stomach twists, dread curling tighter with every second.
Several hours later, he pulls off onto a gravel road, trees crowding both sides, no houses, no signs, nothing but wilderness and silence. He cuts the engine outside a rundown hunting cabin, kills the lights, and swings off the bike.
“This is it,” he says simply, grabbing one of the bags before I can even unclip my helmet.
I glance around, my pulse racing. “What is this place?”
“Safe,” he says, his tone clipped, final.
He keeps saying that word, and every time it sounds less like comfort and more like a warning.
Inside, the cabin smells like old wood and damp earth. One room, one couch, a rickety table, a bed shoved in the corner. Seth drops the bag by the door and starts checking the windows, locking them one by one.
I hover near the wall, my throat tight. “Seth where exactly are we?”
“Middle of nowhere,” he says without looking up. “Exactly where we need to be.”
Something about the way he says it makes my skin crawl.
“I want to call Swag,” I say, forcing the words out, shaky but loud enough to cut through the silence.
Seth stops. Turns. His eyes lock on mine, and for the first time, there’s no smile. No patience. Just steel.
“No.”
My heart thunders in my ears. “Seth, this isn’t?—”
He’s on me before I finish, crossing the space in three strides, his hands gripping my arms hard enough to sting. He leans down, his voice low, sharp, controlled in a way that terrifies me more than yelling ever could.
“You think he’s coming for you?” he whispers, his breath hot against my cheek. “You think Swag gives a damn where you are right now? He left you, Jo-Leigh. I didn’t.”
I shove against him, but he doesn’t budge. My panic spikes, sharp and dizzying, and I hear my own voice crack when I try again.
“Let me go.”
For a long, tense second, he doesn’t. Then he finally steps back, breathing hard, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s trying to calm himself.
“You’re confused,” he says softly, too softly. “That’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”
He walks over to the counter, pulls a bottle of water from his bag, sets it on the table like nothing happened.
“Get some rest,” he says, not looking at me this time. “We’ll talk later.”
But I don’t rest. I sit on the edge of the bed, hands clenched in my lap, pulse hammering so loud I can’t hear the wind rattling the windows.
Minutes stretch into an hour. Seth moves around the cabin, quiet, methodical, checking his phone, making calls I can’t hear, and every muscle in my body locks tighter with every pass he makes.
Finally, I stand. Quiet. Careful. I move toward the door.
My hand’s just touching the knob when his voice cuts through the silence, low and cold.
“Don’t.”
I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. Seth’s leaning against the wall near the window, arms crossed, watching me like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. His calm is worse than anger, worse than shouting.
“You can’t leave,” he says simply. “Not yet.”
“I’m going,” I whisper, my hand shaking on the knob.
His expression doesn’t change, but his voice hardens, steel threaded through every syllable. “Don’t make me stop you.”
The warning hits like ice in my veins. My breath hitches, my body locking up even as my instincts scream to run. But I don’t move. I can’t. Seth walks past me and shuts the deadbolt himself.
Then he grabs my wrist.
It happens fast after that. My back hits the bed, his knee pinning me down, rough hands cinching something tight around my wrists. Rope. I don’t even know where the hell he got it, but the fibers bite into my skin as he knots them fast, practiced.
I thrash, panic clawing up my throat, my voice breaking. “Seth! Stop! Please?—”
He leans close, his jaw tight, his breath hot against my ear.
“Stop fighting me,” he snaps, low and sharp. “I’m not gonna hurt you. But I can’t let you ruin this. I can’t.”
My chest heaves, tears blurring my vision as I jerk against the ropes, but they hold fast, cutting into my skin.
He stands over me, eyes cold now, watching me struggle and that’s when it hits me, heavy and brutal, settling in my bones. I’m not safe. I never was. And Swag has no idea where I am.