Chapter Thirteen
Jet
The meeting with my mother wasn’t easy. But after talking to her, there was no way I could stay with her. I love her but I’m not ready to share everything with her, and she wants me to.
We’ve been riding for hours, silence and asphalt stretching between us like an open wound. Justice hasn’t said where we’re going, and I haven’t asked. I just hold on, my arms looped around his waist, my head resting on his back. The bike feels steady beneath us.
The road winds through pine forest and coastal scrub, salt clinging to the air. When the highway breaks open into a lookout overlooking the ocean, Justice slows and rolls to a stop. The sun’s sinking low, painting everything in bruised gold and red.
He kills the engine. The sudden quiet roars in my ears.
For a while, neither of us says a word. The ocean moves slowly and restlessly below, waves slamming into rock. He sits there, hands still on the handlebars, head bowed like he’s trying to find something to say that won’t make everything worse.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “You needed space.”
“Is that what that was?”
“Somewhere you can breathe.”
I climb off the bike, my legs stiff, nerves raw. “You think seeing my mother fixes what’s wrong with me?”
“No,” he says simply. “But it’s a start.”
The wind whips my hair across my face. I push it back and stare out at the water.
“She knew me the second she opened the door. I saw it in her eyes, shock, disbelief, like she was staring at a ghost. She didn’t say my name right away, just…
stood there, frozen. Guess part of her thought I couldn’t really be standing there, alive. ”
Justice says nothing. He doesn’t move either, just listens.
“I thought seeing her would make things better. But it just reminded me of everything I lost.”
He finally looks at me. “What did you lose?”
“Myself.” The word feels too small for the ache it carries. “The Wheelers made sure of that.”
He leans back against the bike, arms folded. “Tell me.”
Part of me wants to stay silent. The other part is tired, so tired of the weight, tired of the fear. “They took me because of Hawk. My brother owed them money. He was supposed to make a run for them, but he never came back. They said he’d betrayed them. They wanted revenge.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“They dragged me out of my apartment in the middle of the night. Said I was collateral.” I laugh, short and sharp. “Guess I was the message. Hawk died trying to protect me, and they made sure I knew it.”
My voice shakes. “They kept me locked in that clubhouse for weeks. Sometimes they brought other women in. Sometimes it was just me. I stopped counting days. I stopped counting bruises.”
I blink hard, but the tears spill anyway. “You know what the worst part was? Not the pain. The silence after. When they’d leave and I was alone again. That’s when I wished they’d just finish it.”
Justice’s hands curl into fists. “They won’t ever touch you again. Every last one of those fuckers is dead and buried. The Wheelers are nothing but smoke and bones now.”
“A part of me wants to believe you… but are you sure you got them all?” I meet his gaze, eyes burning. “At night I wake up terrified. I can still feel their hands on me, still feel them—” The words break. I hang my head as shame floods through me.
He pushes off the bike and comes closer. “They. Are. Gone. It’s simple. But you’re still standing, Jet. That’s something.”
“Barely.”
“Barely’s enough.”
Something inside me cracks when he says it. He believes it. And for the first time, I almost do too.
Taking a shaky breath, I glance at the horizon. The sun’s gone, leaving the sky a deep bruised blue. “I can’t stay at the compound,” I whisper. “It’s too much. Too many memories, too many people. I can’t breathe. And my mom’s a no go too.”
He studies me, eyes dark and unreadable.
“I’ll leave tonight,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
“Jet.”
“Don’t.” I step back, shaking my head. “Don’t try to stop me. You say they’re gone, and maybe you’re right, but I can still feel them sometimes. In my dreams. In my skin. Like ghosts that won’t quit.”
“Let me help.”
No threat, no order, only quiet conviction. And that’s somehow worse.
“I don’t need saving,” I whisper, even though my voice shakes.
His eyes stay on mine, steady, unflinching. “Didn’t say you did.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.” His jaw flexes. “Just to see you breathe without fear.”
That cracks something deep in my chest. “You don’t even know me, Justice.”
“I know enough.” He steps closer, his voice low, and rough around the edges. “You fight to survive when others would’ve given up. You think that doesn’t mean something?”
“I’m not who I used to be.”
“Good,” he says, no hesitation. “Means you’re still changing. Still fighting.”
My throat burns. “And if I can’t do it anymore?”
“Then I’ll help carry it.”
The silence stretches, heavy but not suffocating.
He’s right in front of me now. The air shifts between us, charged and dangerous.
I should step away, but I don’t.
When his hand comes up, he brushes a strand of hair out of my face. His calloused fingers feel warm against my skin. The gesture’s simple, careful, but it burns all the same.
For a heartbeat, the world stills. Just me, him, and the crash of waves below.
I don’t move when his thumb grazes my jaw. I don’t flinch when he leans in, close enough for the scent of his cologne to wrap around me, it’s dark, clean, and the scent is familiar now.
He doesn’t kiss me.
When he finally steps back, his voice is rough. “You’re not alone this time.”
The words hit deep, deeper than I want to admit.
I nod, because speaking would ruin it. Because maybe, just maybe, I believe him.