Chapter 29
RIOT
She’s so small in my arms. I can barely breathe, carrying her through the woods, every step feeling like a punishment for not getting there sooner. Jasper is right beside me, blood still drying on his knuckles, his eyes locked on Sawyer like he’s afraid if he looks away, she’ll disappear.
Dex and Ash have Blake cuffed and blindfolded in the back of the van.
Jace rides up front, silent, jaw locked, one hand on the pistol in his lap.
Micah’s in the back seat, tapping furiously at his phone—making sure every camera, every sensor Blake set up is wiped clean.
No evidence. No police. No rescue but us.
Sawyer’s shivering, wrapped in Ash’s hoodie, her head pressed to my chest. I keep whispering, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
But I know she’s not, not really. Not yet. I can feel the way she flinches when the van bounces. How tightly she clings to my shirt. Her whole body’s rigid, every muscle screaming to run, even as she melts against me.
Jasper’s hand keeps reaching for her—touching her shoulder, brushing her hair back, squeezing her knee to remind himself she’s here. I see his jaw twitch, the way his eyes keep darting to the back where Blake’s tied up. He wants to kill him. I want to kill him. We all do.
The drive is silent except for Sawyer’s shaky breathing and the wheels grinding over gravel. When the house finally comes into view with the lights burning on every floor, Macee standing on the porch—something inside me breaks.
I carry Sawyer inside, past the stares, past Macee’s choked sob, straight to the couch. Jasper kneels next to her, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Dex and Ash drag Blake down to the basement, slamming the door behind them. Silas is already on the phone, locking down the property.
Macee drops beside Sawyer, taking her hand. “You’re home,” she whispers. “You’re safe. Nobody’s ever getting near you again.”
I want to promise that this is true. I want to believe it. But all I can do is hold her, rock her gently, and try to memorize the feel of her heart beating against mine.
JASPER
I can’t stop watching Riot hold her—Sawyer curled up against his chest, clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s been stripped bare.
He’s whispering in her hair, soothing her with every word, every gentle touch.
His hands are so careful, like she might shatter if he squeezes too tightly.
She should be in my arms.
I know that’s selfish. I know this isn’t about me, but the thought chews at my insides, gnawing deep. All I can do is kneel on the floor in front of the couch, hands useless and trembling, staring at the two of them like if I blink, she’ll vanish again.
I keep replaying it in my head. The text. The shooting range. She left the house thinking she was meeting me—me—and that’s why Blake got to her. That’s why she suffered. If I hadn’t texted, if I’d called, if I’d gone with her, if, if, if.
I want to say something, but my throat locks up. Riot glances down at me, eyes bloodshot but determined, nodding me closer. “Come on, Jasper. She needs us both.”
I slide in, sitting beside him, letting my hand rest on Sawyer’s ankle, then her calf. She flinches at first, then lets out a shaky breath, her fingers reaching blindly until they find mine.
I squeeze, trying to pour every apology, every ounce of love I have into her palm. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. This was my fault. If I—”
She doesn’t say anything, just pulls my hand tighter against her. Her eyes are red, but there’s something fierce and alive still burning there, even after everything.
Riot keeps rocking her, humming low, a hand rubbing slow circles on her back. I can see the pain on his face, the anger and guilt that match my own.
But Sawyer’s here. She’s breathing. That’s enough—for now.
I swear to her in that moment I’ll never let her out of my sight again.
And Blake? He’s going to pay for every second she spent in hell.
SAWYER
Everything inside me clenches tight as I feel Jasper pull away, Riot shifting like he’s about to set me down. Panic hits so hard it’s like ice water in my veins.
“No, no, no!” My voice cracks as I grab for Jasper, clutching Riot tighter, hunkering down between them. “Don’t leave me. Not yet. Please.”
They both freeze, turning to look at me—eyes wide, faces carved from worry and exhaustion. For a second, nobody moves. Then they exchange a glance, some silent understanding passing between them.
Riot doesn’t set me down. Instead, he shifts me higher against his chest, one arm locked under my knees, the other around my back, holding me so close I can hear his heartbeat racing. Jasper comes close, brushing a hand over my hair, then tucks a loose strand behind my ear.
“I’m not leaving,” he murmurs, voice low and fierce just for me. “Riot’s going to take you to lie down. I’m going to have Macee order food or fix something quick, and I need to tell the guys what to do with Blake. I’ll be right there. I swear it.”
I nod, clutching his hand as long as I can. He kisses my knuckles before slipping away, and the loss makes my heart ache.
Riot holds me tighter, not saying a word until he’s carried me into the bedroom. The door closes behind us, and the world feels small, safe, just for a moment.
He sets me gently on the bed, never letting go of my hand. “What do you need, Sawyer? You want a shower? A bath? Or sleep?” His voice is soft, careful, like every word might shatter me all over again.
I just stare up at Riot, lost, empty, unsure how to even answer. I want to be clean, but I can’t make the words come out. I can’t make a choice. I want him close. I want to feel safe.
Riot seems to understand. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then smooths my hair from my face. “Okay, baby. Let’s do a bath,” he says softly, like it’s the only option in the world.
He moves around the room, gathering a towel and my softest pajamas from the dresser, then heads to the bathroom to start the water. I hear the faucet running; the sound is oddly soothing. He keeps the door open so I can see him, see he’s not leaving, not for a second.
When the tub is full and the steam curls through the air, Riot comes back to me, offering a hand.
I take it, but my whole body shakes. He’s careful, gentle, helping me sit on the edge of the tub.
The sight of the water, the echo of the shower at the cabin, sends a chill through me. I freeze, breath stuck in my throat.
Riot notices right away. He crouches down in front of me, eyes searching mine. “Do you want me to get in with you?” he asks.
I nod almost frantically. “Please. I—I don’t want to be alone. Not in the water.”
His expression softens. “I’ve got you. Always.”
He helps me undress, never rushing, never making me feel small.
He strips down to his boxers and eases into the tub first, then pulls me carefully into his lap, cradling me in the warm water.
His arms are solid around me, a shield against the world.
I tuck my head against his chest, breathing in the safe, familiar scent of him.
Riot just holds me there, rubbing slow circles on my back, humming under his breath. “You’re home now, Hellcat,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”
Riot’s arms are warm and solid around me, anchoring me in the water. I’m barely holding it together, shivering even in the heat.
He brushes a damp strand of hair off my cheek, searching my eyes. “You want me to wash you?” His voice is so gentle, nothing like the wild Riot everyone else knows.
“Yes, please.”
He grabs the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop into his palm before massaging it into my scalp. His fingers are careful, slow—making sure not to tug too hard, letting me lean back against his chest as he works through the tangles. It’s more than just washing—it’s grounding. Safe.
He tilts my head, rinsing the suds with a cup, warm water cascading down my back.
“You’re doing such a good job, baby,” he whispers, planting a kiss on my temple.
I close my eyes, trying not to think about the last time hands washed me. I force myself to stay here—in this moment, with Riot—where nothing hurts except the memories.
He moves to my shoulders next, lathering up the washcloth, sliding it gently over my arms, across my chest, down my stomach. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice a rough comfort. “Just breathe.”
His hands are reverent, never venturing where I don’t want them, only holding, only healing. I melt into him, letting the tears come, silent and warm. Riot doesn’t say a word. He keeps washing me, humming a low tune, cradling me closer as I let go.
JASPER
The basement is freezing, dark, and it stinks of old blood from fights and concrete. Blake is still out cold—chained to a steel support beam, wrists zip-tied for good measure. His face is bruised, blood dried at his temple. He looks small here. Powerless. Exactly how he left Sawyer feeling.
Silas stands guard by the door, arms folded, a silent mountain of menace.
I glance at Blake with nothing but contempt. “We’re not coming back down until tomorrow,” I hiss. “Sawyer needs us. Needs Riot, needs me. This piece of shit can wait.”
Silas nods, gaze icy. “We’ve got it handled. Nobody’s touching him. Not until you’re ready.”
Jace, Ash, and Micah are just behind Silas, ready to leave Blake in the dark. I linger for one more heartbeat, staring at Blake’s limp form, then I turn back and head upstairs.
The door to the basement closes behind me with a solid thud, and for a second, all I hear is the echo of my heartbeat in the stairwell.
I leave Blake in the dark, chained up and alone, exactly where he belongs.
Silas and the others promised they’d watch him, but I don’t give a damn what happens down there tonight. Sawyer is all that matters now.