Chapter 14 Storm
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
storm
Thunder rolls in the distance, a warning of what's to come. Both in the skies and in what I've set in motion.
I stand at the clubhouse chapel table, surrounded by my brothers as we finalize plans for tonight. Maps spread across the surface show Eric's last known locations, the routes in and out, and potential escape paths we need to cover. Every detail must be accounted for. This ends tonight.
"He's been staying at this motel on the edge of town," I explain, pointing to a circled location. "Working at a dive bar three blocks over. According to Cruz's intel, he leaves work around two in the morning and walks back to the motel. Same route every night."
Ace nods, leaning over the maps. "Predictable. That's good for us."
"What about Cantlay's men?" Shadow asks, always thinking three steps ahead. "We sure they're really backing off?"
"Makenna's people confirmed it," I reply. "Cantlay's taken the deal. Eric's debt is their problem now, not Camryn's. But they won't make a move until after we're done with him."
The Irish and the Fury Vipers have an understanding. Makenna's people will collect from Eric what he owes Cantlay, but only after we've made it clear he's never to approach Camryn or Emily again. The order of operations matters here.
"So what's the play?" Digger asks, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table.
"Simple. We intercept him on his walk home, bring him to the warehouse." I tap another location on the map. "Have our conversation there. Make sure he understands that Camryn and Emily are permanently off-limits."
What I don't say aloud is what kind of "conversation" it will be. Some things don't need explicit stating among brothers.
"Weather report's calling for a major storm system tonight," Mayhem comments, a knowing look in his eyes. "Fitting, wouldn't you say?"
The irony isn't lost on me. The worst storm of the season rolling in on the very night I plan to end the threat to Camryn, a woman terrified of storms being protected by a man called Storm. Some cosmic joke playing out in real time.
"What about Camryn?" Ace asks, always considering all angles. "She know what's happening tonight?"
"I'm talking to her after this," I say, straightening up from the table. "She deserves to know what we're doing, even if not all the details."
Shadow raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Most old ladies prefer plausible deniability."
"She's not most old ladies," I reply, feeling a surge of pride in how Camryn's handled everything being thrown at her. "And she's been living with this threat hanging over her for too long. She needs to know it's ending."
Ace studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Your call. But Storm," he pauses, making sure he has my full attention, "make sure you're thinking clearly tonight. Don't let this get personal."
I almost laugh at that. As if this hasn't been personal from the moment I saw Camryn flinch during that first thunderstorm, when I realized what kind of man would hurt someone like her.
"I'm clear," I assure him, though the rage that's been simmering since I learned what Eric did to a sixteen-year-old Camryn tells a different story.
The meeting breaks up, brothers filing out with purpose in their steps. We move at sunset, which gives me a few hours to prepare and to talk to Camryn.
I find her in our room at the clubhouse, folding laundry while Emily draws at the small table by the window. The domesticity of the scene hits me with unexpected force. This is what I'm fighting for, this quiet moment of normalcy that Camryn and Emily deserve to have without fear.
"Hey," I say, closing the door behind me.
Camryn looks up, a smile spreading across her face before faltering as she reads my expression. "What's wrong?"
Emily doesn't look up from her drawing, lost in her artistic world of butterflies and flowers.
"Nothings wrong," I assure Camryn. "But I need to talk to you. Privately."
She nods, understanding immediately. "Emily, sweetie, why don't you go show Sera your new drawing? I bet she'd love to see it."
Emily gathers her papers eagerly. "Can I bring my markers too? Sera wanted to learn how to draw butterfly wings properly."
"Of course," Camryn says. "Just stay in the common area where I can find you, okay?"
Once Emily has bounced out the door, Camryn turns to me, arms crossed over her chest. "It's happening tonight, isn't it?"
I nod, not surprised she's pieced it together. "We've got his location and his routine. We're moving after dark.
She takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What exactly is 'moving' going to entail, Storm?"
This is the conversation I've been dreading. How do I explain to this woman, this good, kind woman who's managed to maintain her compassion despite everything she's suffered, what I'm capable of? What I'm planning to do to protect her?
"We're going to have a conversation with Eric," I say carefully. "Make sure he understands that you and Emily are off-limits. Permanently."
"A conversation," she repeats, not fooled for a second. "And what form will this conversation take?"
I move to sit beside her, keeping some distance between us in case she needs it. "Camryn, I won't lie to you. It won't be pleasant. But it will be effective."
She's quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands. "Will you kill him?"
The directness of her question catches me off guard, though it shouldn't. Camryn's never been one to dance around difficult subjects.
"That depends on him," I answer honestly. "If he accepts that you're under our protection and agrees to stay away, he'll walk away. Hurt, but alive."
"And if he doesn't?"
I meet her eyes, not shying away from what she needs to see. "Then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he never threatens you or Emily again."
She absorbs this, her expression unreadable. I'm prepared for fear, for disgust, for her to pull away from me as she finally confronts the violence at the core of who I am and what I do.
Instead, she surprises me, as she so often does.
"I want to come with you."
"What?" I stare at her, certain I've misheard.
"I want to be there," she says, her voice steadier than I would have expected. "Not for... whatever happens to him. But I need to look him in the eyes, Storm. I need him to see me, to know that I'm not hiding anymore, that I'm not the scared sixteen-year-old girl he attacked."
Pride and concern war within me. The strength it takes for her to face the man who traumatized her is incredible. But bringing her into a potentially violent situation goes against every protective instinct I have.
"Camryn, I don't think—"
"I'm not asking permission," she cuts me off. "I'm telling you what I need. Eight years, Storm. Eight years I've been looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows, terrified he'd find us. Now that it's ending, I need to be part of it. I need closure."
I study her face, seeing the determination there, the strength that's always been part of her even when she couldn't see it herself.
"What about Emily?" I ask, a practical concern that needs addressing.
"She can stay with Tavia and the girls. They've already invited her for a movie night."
She's thought this through. Of course she has.
"There's another issue," I say reluctantly. "The weather."
Her brow furrows in confusion before understanding dawns. "The storm."
"Major system moving in tonight. It’s supposed to be the worst one of the season."
Fear flickers across her face—the old, instinctive fear that's been her companion for too long. But then something shifts in her expression, a steeling of resolve.
"Maybe that's fitting," she says quietly. "Facing both my fears at once."
The symbolism isn't lost on me. Camryn facing the literal storm and the man who made her fear them, alongside a man called Storm who's sworn to protect her.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask one more time. "It won't be easy. Any of it."
She reaches for my hand, her fingers cool against my skin. "I'm sure. I need to do this, Storm. For me. For Emily. For us."
Us. The word slides into place like a missing puzzle piece, completing something I didn't realize was incomplete.
"Okay," I agree, bringing her hand to my lips. "But you stay with me the entire time. You follow my lead. And if things get ugly, you leave when I tell you to. No arguments."
She nods, accepting these terms. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," I warn her. "Tonight won't be pretty."
"I know," she says simply. "But it needs to happen."
The certainty in her voice, the absence of judgment for what I'm about to do, hits me harder than any condemnation could have. She sees me, all of me, the protector and the enforcer, the gentleness and the violence, and she's still here.
As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance, the storm moving closer. Camryn tenses automatically, then consciously relaxes, a small victory in her ongoing battle with fear.
"When do we leave?" she asks.
"After Emily's settled with Tavia. Around ten."
She nods again, resolute. "I'll be ready."
I pull her into my arms, needing to feel her, to remind myself of what I'm fighting for. She comes willingly, her body fitting against mine like it was designed for that purpose.
"I've got you," I murmur against her hair. "Both of you. Always."
"I know," she whispers back. "That's why I can do this. Because I'm not alone anymore."
The simple truth of her words settles something in me. For years, I've been the storm, unpredictable, dangerous, frightening, but for Camryn, I've become something else as well: shelter.
The warehouse sits dark and isolated three miles from the nearest residential neighborhood. Rain pounds against the metal roof, creating a constant drumbeat overhead. Lightning illuminates the cavernous space in brief, electric flashes, followed by thunder that shakes the very foundation.