Chapter 10 #2
I should. I know I should. But the words from church are still ringing in my ears—she's a liability, she's a problem, this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't brought her here—and I can't bring myself to burden her with that.
"It's nothing you need to worry about," I say instead. "Just Varro being a pain in the ass."
She's quiet for a moment.
I can feel her gaze on my back, assessing, reading between the lines like she always does.
"The club blames me."
I turn around. "What?"
"For all of this. The raids, the pressure, Varro's vendetta." She sets the laptop aside, hugging her knees to her chest. "I've heard the whispers. Seen the way some of them look at me. Like I'm a curse that landed on their doorstep."
"They don't—"
"Don't lie to me. Please." Her voice cracks. "I know what I am. I know what I've cost you."
"You haven't cost me anything."
"I've cost you everything." She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Your reputation, your authority, maybe your club. All because you decided to play hero for some broken woman you barely knew."
"That's not—"
"I've been thinking." She cuts me off, her voice steadier now. More resolved. "About getting my own place. Moving out."
The words hit me like a slap to the face.
"What?"
"It makes sense, doesn't it? I can't stay here forever, relying on you, causing problems for the club.
I need to get my own life together. Find an apartment, get a job, start the teaching certification process.
" She's not looking at me now, picking at a thread on the blanket.
"I can't do that from here. And maybe if I'm gone, Varro will ease up.
Without me as a target, he's got less leverage. "
"That's not how it works. Varro's not going to stop just because you're gone."
"Maybe not. But at least I won't be making things worse."
I cross the room in three strides, crouching in front of her so she has to look at me. "You're not making things worse."
"Everyone thinks I am."
"I don't give a shit what everyone thinks." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "These men follow me because I've earned their loyalty. And if any of them have a problem with you being here, they can take it up with me."
"That's exactly the problem." Her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "You keep defending me. Keep making enemies, burning bridges. And for what? For some woman you picked up out of the goodness of your heart?"
"You think that's what this is? Charity?"
"Isn't it?"
"No." The word is absolute. Final. "This isn't charity, Ripley. This isn't me playing hero. This is—" I stop, struggling to find the words.
"This is what?"
I stare at her.
At the woman who crashed into my life and turned everything upside down.
At the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty, the desperate need to understand.
And I realize I have a choice.
I can retreat.
Pull back behind my walls, let her believe this is nothing more than protection, watch her walk out the door and take a piece of me with her.
Or I can tell her the truth.
"Stay."
The word comes out rough. Raw. It costs me something to say it—a vulnerability I've spent years refusing to show.
Her brow furrows. "What?"
"Stay." I take her hands in mine, holding tight. "Don't leave. Don't get your own place. Stay here, with me."
"Levi, I can't just—"
"You can. You should." I take a breath, forcing myself to say the words I've been avoiding.
"I want you here. Not because you need protection.
Not because of Varro or the club or any of that bullshit.
Because I want you. Because having you here, in my space, in my life—it's the first thing that's felt right in longer than I can remember. "
She stares at me, lips parted, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough." I reach up, brushing the tears from her face. "I know you're strong, even when you don't feel like it. I know you're kind, even after everything the world's done to you. I know you make me feel things I thought I'd forgotten how to feel." I pause. "I know I love you."
The words hang in the air between us.
Ripley's breath catches. "You... what?"
"I love you." Saying it the second time is easier. Still terrifying, but easier. "I don't know when it happened. Don't know how. But I do. And the thought of you leaving—of waking up and you not being here—" I shake my head. "I can't do that. I won't."
"Levi." She whispers my name like a prayer. "I'm a mess. I'm broken and scared and I still have nightmares about a dead man. I don't know if I'm capable of being what you need."
"You're exactly what I need."
"How can you be sure?"
"I'm not." I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up so she meets my eyes. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. But I know how I feel. I know what I want. And I want you. All of you. The broken pieces, the scared parts, everything. If you'll let me."
She's crying openly now, tears streaming down her face. But she's smiling too—a watery, trembling smile that breaks something open in my chest.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
"I know."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then we figure it out. Together."
"What if I'm too damaged? What if I can't—"
"Ripley." I cut her off with a kiss. Soft. Gentle. A promise more than a passion. When I pull back, her eyes are wide. Wondering. "Stop looking for reasons to run. Just... stay. Please."
She's quiet for a long moment. I can see the war playing out behind her eyes—fear versus hope, doubt versus desire.
Three years of learned helplessness fighting against the possibility of something new, then she nods.
"Okay," she whispers. "I'll stay."
The relief that floods through me is almost overwhelming.
I pull her into my arms, holding her tight, burying my face in her hair.
She clings to me like I'm the only solid thing in a shifting world, and maybe I am.
Maybe we're both the other's anchor.
"I love you too," she says into my chest. The words are muffled, almost inaudible, but I hear them. Feel them. "I think I have for a while. I was just too scared to admit it."
"You don't have to be scared anymore."
"I know." She pulls back, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes my heart stutter. "I know."
I kiss her again. Deeper this time. Slower.
Savoring the taste of her, the feel of her, the reality of her choosing to stay. Choosing me.
The club can fall apart. Varro can burn everything to the ground. As long as I have her, none of it matters.
That's a dangerous thought. A weak thought. The kind of thought that gets men killed.
But holding her in my arms, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, I can't bring myself to care.
Some things are worth the risk.
She's worth the risk.
Later, we lie tangled together in the dark.
She's asleep, her breath warm and even against my shoulder, her hand resting over my heart.
I'm wide awake, staring at the ceiling, running through everything that happened today.
The raid. Church. Stark's thinly veiled accusations. Zenon's words.
You love her.
At some point, you might have to choose.
I tighten my arm around Ripley, pulling her closer.
She murmurs something in her sleep, nuzzling into my chest, and the tightness in my throat makes it hard to breathe.
I've spent my whole life putting the club first.
The brotherhood. The mission.
Personal attachments were liabilities, distractions, weaknesses to be exploited.
I watched Salvo sacrifice everything for this organization—his youth, his health, his first marriage—and I told myself I'd do the same.
But I never counted on her.
I never counted on someone who could slip past my defenses, who could make me feel things I thought I'd buried years ago.
I never counted on love.
And now I'm caught. Trapped between two loyalties, two obligations, two pieces of my soul.
The club needs me to be cold. Calculated. Willing to sacrifice anything for the greater good.
Ripley needs me to be human. Present. Willing to put her first.
I don't know if I can be both.
But lying here in the dark, with her warmth seeping into my bones, I know one thing for certain.
I'm going to try.
Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs.
I'm not losing her.