Chapter Five
Justice
Night settles over the compound. Most of the brothers are passed out or halfway there, the air inside is thick with whiskey. Outside it’s quiet, just the hum of generators and the low creak of metal as the wind shifts through the yard.
A shadow slips past the row of parked bikes. Too small to be one of the guys, or a prospect sneaking a smoke.
The faint beam of a flashlight dances ahead of what I think is a woman, shaky but determined. As I get closer, I can see she’s wearing one of Devil’s jackets, and has a bag slung over her shoulder.
In my gut, I know it’s Jet.
She’s running.
Boots crunch against gravel as the distance closes between us. “Going somewhere?”
The flashlight jerks toward my voice. Jet spins, shoulders squared like she’s ready for a war she can’t win. Moonlight spills over her face, revealing haunted eyes and a stubborn jaw.
“Keep out of my way.” Her voice doesn’t shake.
“Can’t do that.”
Her grip tightens on the strap across her chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Not trying to,” I say quietly. “Just making sure you don’t end up dead in a ditch.”
The muscles in her jaw flex, and for a second, a spark of defiance flashes across her face. “You think that’s worse than staying here?”
“Yeah,” the word comes out rough with more than a hint of conviction. “Here, you’ve got a roof. Out there, you’ve got men who’d sell you to the next buyer before sunrise.”
The glare she throws at me could cut steel. “You don’t know me.”
“Know enough.” It slips out and I say, “You’re Hawk’s sister.”
That stops her cold.
Her breath hitches, eyes narrowing. “Reaper told you?”
“Didn’t have to. You’ve got the same look he used to get when someone told him to walk away from a fight.”
Emotion flickers across her face, grief, rage, and disbelief all rolled into one. “He’s dead because of your world,” she spits. “You really think I’d trust anyone wearing that patch?” Jet’s face is twisted in a frown, lips turned down and eyes looking down her nose at me.
“Hawk died because someone broke the code, not because of the code.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re still breathing.”
The silence that follows could burn the air itself. She’s trembling now, not from fear but from everything she’s been holding back since the night we found her.
“Creed said you could stay as long as you need,” I say quietly. “No one’s forcing you. But running? That’s a straight shot back into hell.”
Her chin lifts, tears glinting in the moonlight. “Every time someone said I was safe, they lied.”
“This time’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because Hawk mattered,” I say, stepping closer but keeping my hands where she can see them. “And so do you.”
For a heartbeat, something in her eyes softens. Then, the wall slams back up. She drops the bag, her shoulders sag under the weight of everything she’s survived.
“Just… don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispers.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She turns toward the clubhouse, walking slow, every step looks heavy. The urge to follow burns strong, but Creed’s words echo loud, ‘Keep your distance. She’s not your problem.’
Maybe not. But watching her disappear into the light spilling from that doorway feels a hell of a lot like losing something worth fighting for.