Chapter Twenty-Seven
Justice
Smoke pours out of the warehouse as the fire eats everything behind us.
The heat licks at my back, the air thick and bitter with ash and burned oil.
Jet’s body trembles in my arms, blood smeared across her face and tangled in her hair.
She’s as light as a feather, and yet every step feels heavy, like I’m carrying the weight of my own failures with her.
Her head rests against my chest, breaths shallow but steady. Every breath reminds me she’s alive.
Alive.
That word alone feels like a miracle.
“You did good, baby,” I murmur, voice rough from smoke and emotion I can’t swallow down. “You’re safe now.”
Her fingers twitch weakly against my cut, and it damn near breaks me.
Behind us, Reaper and Winchester watch the flame clean up the mess, making sure nothing and no one walks away from this. Brotherhood at work, it’s silent, precise and deadly.
Creed’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Pull out. It’s time to go. We’re done here.”
Done.
If only my conscience believed that.
By the time the bikes roar down the highway, night’s started to fade. Jet’s wrapped in my jacket, huddled against me in the truck. Her hands tremble when she tries to wipe her face, so I do it for her. Every bruise is a reminder of what could’ve been.
God, the thoughts that crawl through my head, what those bastards might’ve done if she hadn’t fought back its turns my stomach.
I keep glancing over, making sure she’s still breathing. Still here.
Can’t shake the image of her standing there with a gun in her hands, shaking but defiant, blood on her face, fire in her eyes.
She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever seen.
And I almost lost her.
Back at the clubhouse, it feels like the world finally stops moving.
I carry her through the clubhouse, ignoring the looks from the brothers, the questions in their eyes. She’s mine to protect. Always will be.
The door to my room shuts behind us with a quiet click, cutting off the noise of the club.
She sits on the edge of the bed, hair falling around her face, hands fisting the blanket. When her gaze lifts to mine, it’s full of exhaustion—and something sharper.
“How did you find me?” Her voice cracks. “How did you know where I was?”
Leaning against the dresser, I scrub a hand down my face. “Creed made a deal. Traded the ledger for your location.”
She stares, disbelief clouding the fear. “So he got away with it? Hector?”
A faint smile tugs at my mouth—grim, humorless. “For now. But Hector’s the kind of man who always circles back. And when he does, he’ll get what’s coming.”
Her shoulders sag. A tear slips free, tracks down her cheek. I cross the room, drop to my knees in front of her. My hands find hers, they are cold and trembling.
“Jet,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes lift, uncertain.
“I shouldn’t have let you come with us. Should’ve kept you safe, kept you here, away from all this shit.
” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard. “You could’ve been killed…
or worse. And I wouldn’t have been able to live with that.
I love you, Jet. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my damn life. ”
Her breath catches. Eyes wide, wet, disbelieving. “You… you love me? But you’re perfect, and I’m—”
“No.” The word comes out rough, cutting through her doubt. “You’re the one I want. The one I love. The one who makes me want to be better. You’re everything, Jet.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and raw. Then her fingers tighten around mine.
Tears shimmer in her eyes, but her voice is steady when she whispers, “I love you too. More than I ever thought I could. Life’s full of danger, Justice—yours, mine, everyone’s—but if we’ve got each other’s backs, we’ll be fine.”
A shaky laugh escapes me. “You sure about that, baby? ’Cause I don’t ever wanna feel what I felt when you were gone.”
She leans in, forehead resting against mine. “You won’t have to. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
When our lips meet, it’s slow, nothing like the hunger that usually drives us. This is something else. Something honest. A promise made in silence and sealed with tears.
Her hand slides up to the back of my neck, and for the first time since that van took her, the knot in my chest loosens. The world outside could burn, and I wouldn’t care.
I hold her close, whisper against her hair, “I’ve got you, Jet. Always.”
And as she breathes against me, soft and steady, one truth roots deep in my chest—
I’m the luckiest bastard alive.