Chapter 3 #2
The front door opens before anyone can answer, and Kyle Reed strides in with the commanding presence that's clearly genetic.
His dark hair is streaked with silver at the temples, but otherwise, it's like looking at an older version of Greyson.
Behind him follows a striking blonde woman I recognize as Chrystal Reed, Greyson's mother.
"Where is she?" Kyle demands, his voice filling the room. His eyes find me immediately with concern. "Olivia. Are you all right, sweetheart?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Reed," I say, surprised by his presence. Despite stepping down as president, Kyle Reed's arrival still causes a ripple of respect through the room.
Chrystal moves past her husband, coming to kneel in front of me. Her elegant hands clasp mine, her eyes, the same piercing blue as her son's, searching my face. "When we heard what happened…" She shakes her head. "This town was supposed to be safe for you."
"It's not the town's fault," I tell her, touched by her concern.
Kyle approaches my father, the two men clasping forearms in that familiar greeting of old friends and allies. "This bastard followed her from California?"
Dad nods grimly. "Looks that way. Got his plate, but the car's probably stolen."
"We've got guys looking for it now," Mason adds. "Every Devil Soul and Grim Sinner in a fifty-mile radius is on alert."
Greyson shifts beside me, his thigh pressing against mine as he leans forward. "She can't stay at your place," he says to my father. "He knows where she lives. Probably knows the code to your gate now too."
"We'll change the code," Dad says dismissively. "Beef up security."
"That's not enough," Greyson insists, his voice taking on the authoritative edge I recognize from the party. "He's been watching her, studying her patterns. Your house will be the first place he looks."
A heavy silence falls over the room as everyone processes this undeniable truth.
"She's staying with us," Mom argues. "We'll take turns keeping watch."
Greyson shakes his head. "With all due respect, Mrs. Bennett, your family is too visible. Everyone knows where you live, and the stalker has already proven he can find her here."
"What are you suggesting?" Dad asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
Greyson meets his gaze steadily. "She stays with me. My place is on the edge of town, set back from the road. Security system, private drive, no one would think to look for her there."
"Absolutely fucking not," Dad explodes, exactly as I expected. "My daughter is not staying at your house!"
"Dad…" I begin, but Greyson cuts me off.
"This isn't about us," though the way his hand finds mine suggests otherwise. "This is about keeping her safe until we find this guy."
Kyle steps forward, placing a restraining hand on my father's shoulder. "Wilder, think about it. Greyson's place is the most secure option we have. Three acres, surrounded by woods, and a state-of-the-art security system I had installed myself."
"I don't give a damn if it's Fort Knox," Dad growls. "She's not staying there alone with him."
"I can take care of myself," I protest weakly.
"Clearly," Greyson murmurs beside me, his thumb tracing circles on my palm where our hands are joined. "But this isn't just about physical safety, Livie. This guy is obsessed with you. He's been following you, watching you. The psychological toll of that…"
"I know the toll," I interrupt sharply. "I've been living with it for weeks."
"Exactly. And you shouldn't have to do it alone anymore."
Dad paces the length of the room, his internal struggle visible in every tense line of his body. His gaze then shifts to me. "You arm yourself at all times. That gun doesn't leave your side, you understand me?"
"Yes, Daddy," I say gently.
"And you," Dad turns back to Greyson, stepping closer until they're almost nose to nose, "you protect her with your life. Because if anything happens to her under your roof, there won't be a place on this earth you can hide from me. She is my baby.” The heartbroken look on his face is shattering.
"I'd die before I let anyone hurt her," Greyson says with such quiet conviction that even my father seems taken aback.
Kyle clears his throat. "It's settled then. Olivia stays with Greyson until we find this stalker and… deal with him." Those final words send a chill down my spine.
"I'll need to get some things from my room," I say, finally finding my voice in the middle of this conversation that's been happening around me.
"I'll go with you," Mom offers immediately. "We'll pack what you need."
As the arrangements are finalized, I find myself watching Greyson across the room, deep in conversation with his father and mine. There's something surreal about this situation—less than twenty-four hours back in town, and I'm moving into Greyson Reed's house with an obsessed stalker on my trail.
"Not exactly how you pictured your homecoming, huh?" Lani appears beside me, her expression a mix of concern and wry humor.
"Not exactly," I agree, accepting the fresh cup of tea she offers. "Twenty-four hours ago, I was worried about setting up my station at the salon."
"And now you're moving in with the hottest guy in town while being hunted by a psychopath." She bumps her shoulder against mine. "Only you, Liv."
Despite everything, I find myself laughing. "When you put it that way…"
"Seriously, though," her voice drops lower, "are you okay? Really okay?"
I consider the question, looking around the room at the people mobilizing to protect me—my family, the club, Greyson.
For weeks in LA, I'd felt isolated, vulnerable, afraid to sleep in my own apartment.
Now, surrounded by this network of fierce protectors, I feel something I haven't in a long time: safe.
"I will be," I tell her, and for the first time, I believe it.
Across the room, Greyson looks up, his eyes finding mine as if drawn by some invisible force. The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. Whatever happens next—with the stalker, with us—one thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same again.
And maybe, just maybe, that's not such a bad thing.
"Ready?" Greyson asks, appearing at my side as discussions conclude around us.
I nod, rising to my feet. "As I'll ever be."
He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promises, his voice low for my ears alone.
"I know," I reply, and the certainty in my voice surprises even me.
As we walk toward the door, my father's eyes follow us, his expression unreadable. But he doesn't object when Greyson's arm slides around my waist.
Outside, the night air has cooled further, stars bright in the clear sky above. Greyson leads me to his bike, the machine gleaming under the security lights.
"Ever ridden before?" he asks, holding out a helmet.
I take it with a small smile. "I grew up in an MC, remember? I've been on bikes since before I could walk."
His answering grin is almost boyish, a glimpse of the young man beneath the hardened club president exterior. "Then you know where to hold on."
Then it hits me. My car. I start to climb back off to go get in, but he stops me.
"We're leaving your car here," Greyson says, his hand tightening on mine when I move toward it. "He knows what it looks like. If he's still out there watching…"
I hadn't considered that, the thought sending another chill through me. "But how will I…”
"I'll handle your transportation until we find him." His tone leaves no room for argument. He reaches into the saddlebag and pulls out another helmet, this one with a full-face shield. "Put this on. It'll hide your hair color."
I understand immediately. My dark hair is distinctive, easily spotted even at night. I take the helmet, slipping it over my head. The world narrows to what I can see through the tinted visor, but there's something comforting about the anonymity it provides.
"My parents will follow us," Greyson says, nodding toward where Kyle and Chrystal are mounting their own bike. "Different route, just to be safe. We'll meet them at a checkpoint to make sure we're not followed before heading to my place."
I swing my leg over the back of his motorcycle, my arms wrapping around his solid torso. Through his leather cut, I can feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart. He kick-starts the engine, the powerful rumble vibrating through me.
"Hold tight," he tells me over his shoulder, and I press myself closer against his back.
We roar out of the compound, taking a sharp right where I expected a left. I understand his strategy immediately. Random turns, doubling back, making it impossible for anyone to anticipate our route. Kyle and Chrystal peel off in the opposite direction, their bike disappearing into the night.
The town blurs past us as Greyson weaves through back streets I barely recognize. The cold night air seeps through my leather jacket, but I barely notice, too focused on the solid warmth of the man before me and the vigilant scan of each street we pass.
After twenty minutes of zigzagging through town, Greyson pulls into an abandoned gas station lot. Moments later, Kyle and Chrystal roll in from the opposite direction.
"All clear?" Greyson calls.
Kyle nods. "No tails. You?"
"Clean. Let's move."
We're off again, this time heading out of town altogether. The road winds through dense forest, moonlight filtering through the trees in silver patches. I've never been to Greyson's house, but I've heard rumors. A modern cabin built expanded and renovated when Greyson took over as president.
After several miles, we turn onto a nearly invisible dirt road, the bike slowing as we navigate the rough terrain.
The path climbs upward, deep into the woods, until finally, a clearing appears.
And there, nestled among the trees, stands a stunning timber-and-glass structure that somehow manages to look both rustic and sophisticated.