Lock

Chapter 3 Kellan #2

I pulled the latch, the ladder dropped soundlessly, and I climbed down fast, my hands cold on the metal. My hoodie bunched at my back, and the air hit the strip of skin between my shirt and waistband. I didn’t want to think about whether Lock could see.

Boots landed behind me a second later.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

I didn’t get a chance to argue. He grabbed my hand—his fingers closing around my wrist, firm but not painful—and tugged me forward, we made our way through the compound staying in the shadows and the side of the house.

The trees swallowed us quickly. My breath fogged in the cold night and there was a part of me that wanted to scream, but then I couldn’t seem to make myself.

Which was insane!

Halfway through the yard, I tripped over a root. His hand tightened, steadying me before I even fully stumbled.

“Watch your step,” he muttered.

“Hard to do when you’re dragging me,” I whispered back.

“Would you rather I carry you?” he asked without looking back.

Absolutely not.

“Keep going,” I mumbled.

We broke into the clearing near the fence—

And I froze.

Two guards lay on the ground near the breach in the metal. Unmoving.

I stumbled back on instinct. “Oh my god—Lock—”

“They’re alive,” he said immediately. “Just out.”

“But—”

“They deserved worse,” he said flatly. “Leaving you this unprotected? Anyone could’ve walked in tonight.”

Okay woah… that was a weird thing to say.

“You walked in tonight.”

“Exactly. If I could, someone else could. I just got here first.”

His hand tightened on my wrist again…not painful, but grounding? I was clearly losing it.

“Come on.”

He pulled me through the cut in the fence. I ducked, heart slamming against my ribs.

The van was waiting in the trees, half-concealed by branches. The passenger door opened first, and a guy climbed out, he was tall and broad, with dark hair and darker eyes. He caught my arm when I stumbled stepping up.

Before I could even mumble a thank you, Lock was there, practically yanking me out of the guy’s hands, pulling me closer to his side.

“Don’t touch him,” Lock snapped.

The man just raised his brows and stepped aside. Like he hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Inside,” Lock ordered.

My legs moved before my brain caught up. I climbed in, my breath catching in my chest when I realized there were two other men inside, watching me.

The van door slid shut behind me, cutting off the cold air and the night and whatever small chance I had of changing any of this.

Lock sat beside me, his thigh pressed against mine like he had no idea what personal space was. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

This man was so confusing. The whole I’m a big strong biker alpha man who is kidnapping you but I’m also being nice?

Was it too soon for stockholme syndrome?

His hand was still around my wrist, warm and steady, and his thumb was brushing the inside of it like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

The engine started, and the van lurched forward. My breath caught. That was it. I was gone. Out of my home. Away from my guards. Away from everything familiar.

My dad was going to kill someone. Maybe Lock. Maybe me.

I swallowed hard.

My thoughts spun in circles. And my pulse wouldn’t slow down. And my body…the traitor it was couldn’t seem to decide what it was feeling.

I’d helped him kidnap me.

I was sitting in a van full of the people my father hated.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t sure if I was terrified…

…or something else entirely.

The men in the van barely spoke. And the guy driving hadn’t looked back once. The one in the passenger seat, the dark-haired one who’d caught me earlier checked a tablet every few seconds and spoke but I couldn’t hear what he was saying and no one in thee van replied.

There was one in the seat in front of Lock and I and one behind. They both had gun in hand, and I caught the one in front watching me like he was trying to figure me out.

None of them looked scared.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be.

Idiot you definitely should be.

Lock finally released my wrist, but he didn’t move away. His thigh stayed right against mine….warm and solid and just too much.

I stared at the floor. “Where… where are you taking me?”

“Someplace safe,” Lock said.

My head snapped toward him. “Safe? You just kidnapped me.”

His jaw flexed. “Safer than where you were.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. Or the way he said it. Like he genuinely believed it.

The van hit a bump and my shoulder bumped his; he steadied me without even thinking, his hand bracing lightly at my lower back. Heat shot up my spine so fast I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“Stop moving,” I muttered, even though I was the one who’d leaned.

“Stop falling,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t teasing. Annoyingly, he was right.

My chest felt too tight. The air felt wrong in my lungs. And Lock’s scent—clean, cold, sharp with something warm underneath—wrapped around me, filling the whole van. It made my skin prickle.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t screaming. I didn’t know why my body wasn’t panicking the way it should. Instead everything inside me felt too hot, too aware, like someone had flipped a switch I didn’t know existed.

“You’re too quiet,” Lock murmured.

“What do you want me to say?” My voice shook. “Thanks for the kidnapping?”

He didn’t answer. The van turned and I slid an inch; he caught my arm again, steadying me like he’d expected it.

“Just breathe,” he said. “You’re wound tight.”

“I wonder why,” I snapped.

The one in front of us turned around and studied be with sharp eyes. “Thought the Reaper prince would be fighting more. Didn’t expect you to go this easy.”

My face burned. “I didn’t go easy.”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “Sure about that?”

Lock shot him a look I couldn’t read. Whatever it was, it shut him up fast.

The van fell quiet again. Too quiet. My pulse thundered in my ears. The hoodie felt too warm. My breathing was wrong, too shallow.

Lock shifted beside me, turning toward me fully, and his scent pulled even closer.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

I tried. I got halfway before my vision blurred and the world tilted slightly.

“You’re overheating,” he said, voice lower. “Slow your breathing.”

I shook my head, but the motion felt sluggish. “I—I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” His hand cupped the back of my neck—warm, steady, grounding. “Breathe, Kellan.”

It should’ve helped.

It didn’t.

His scent flooded my senses—warm pressure under cool air. My stomach clenched. My fingers tingled. My knees felt unsteady even though I was sitting down.

“Lock,” I whispered. “I can’t… I don’t…”

His thumb skimmed the side of my throat. “I’ve got you.”

My vision went spotty.

A loud rushing filled my ears.

I tried to stay upright, tried to blink the dizziness away, but everything tilted and my body tipped toward him before I could stop it.

“Lock…” I breathed, softer now, the words slipping out before I could catch them—

“I don’t feel right.”

He caught me instantly, strong arm wrapping around my back, pulling me into him like he’d known this was coming.

“Kellan,” he said, urgent and rough. “Stay with me.”

But the gray was already spreading across my vision.

My last thought before it swallowed everything was stupid and humiliating:

Why did it feel safer to fall into him than away from him?

And then I let darkness pull me under. The last thing I remembered was his hand at my neck and his scent in my lungs before everything grayed out.

I woke up slowly.

Not the normal kind of slow where you’re groggy and stretching and trying to convince yourself to get out of bed. This was the heavy kind. Like I was swimming up through warm water and couldn’t quite reach the surface.

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

I was not in my room. These were not my sheets.

Cold air. Leather. A faint bite of engine oil. Something warm under it—sharp and clean and too familiar now.

My stomach fluttered.

Lock.

I didn’t move at first. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, breathing carefully. My hoodie was gone, but my jeans were still on. Someone had taken the hoodie off me while I was out.

Heat ran up my neck.

Lock had—

Okay. No. Don’t think about that yet.

I pushed myself up slowly, expecting my head to pound, but it didn’t. It felt…floaty. And my skin was too warm and my heart was racing.

The room came into focus piece by piece.

A big bed. Bigger than mine. Dark gray sheets. Heavy blankets that smelled like him. A leather jacket tossed over a chair—his jacket. His cut was hanging on a hook near the door, the Crimson Havoc patch bold across the back. A folded hoodie—mine—sat neatly on the nightstand.

My heart thumped once, hard.

This was Lock’s room.

And I was in his bed.

I reached for the edge of the blanket, fingers curling into the fabric like that would explain anything. It didn’t.

A quiet voice drifted from somewhere nearby. “He’s awake.”

I jerked my head up.

In the open doorway stood a man I’d never seen before. Tall, lean, dark hair tied back. He leaned against the frame like he’d been waiting there forever, arms crossed, eyes sharp like he didn’t miss much.

He didn’t look surprised to see me staring.

“You pass out often?” he asked, tone dry.

I blinked. “Um… no?”

“Good,” he said. “Lock was about two seconds from kicking down the infirmary door, and I didn’t feel like explaining to Ember why he trampled half the room.”

My brows pulled together. “Who… are you?”

He gave a tiny shrug. “Friend of his.” Then, as if remembering, “I’m Wraith.”

Right. That name I’d heard Lock say earlier.

Before I could say anything else, another figure appeared behind him.

Lock.

He stepped into the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or keep his distance. His hair was messy. His jaw tight. He kept scanning my face like he was checking for probably signs of if I would pass out again.

He looked… stressed?

I didn’t even know men like him could look stressed.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

My throat felt too tight to answer right away. But I managed a nod, “I—uh—I think so.”

Lock exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for an hour.

Wraith smirked slightly. “Told you he wasn’t dying.”

Lock shot him a look that could’ve cut metal. “Get out.”

Wraith held his hands up. “Fine. I’ll go somewhere else and pretend you’re not hovering.”

He disappeared down the hall.

Lock stayed where he was for a second longer before stepping into the room. Not close, but close enough that his scent hit me again, warm and sharp and steady.

My pulse jumped.

He noticed. His eyes flicked to my neck, before he dragged them back to my face.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said. His voice was calm voice but the look in his eyes stole my breath.

My cheeks warmed. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “Still didn’t like it.”

I swallowed. My body felt too warm again, but not dizzy this time. Just… aware. Of him. Of how big he looked in the doorway. How the light caught the pale blue of his eyes.

I pushed the blanket off and tried to sit up fully. My balance tipped for a second.

Lock moved instantly.

His hand was at my arm before I even realized I was swaying, steadying me with a touch that was firm and careful at the same time.

My breath hitched.

“Easy,” he murmured.

I nodded, even though I felt like I was spinning in a thousand directions.

The room was too quiet. Too warm. Too much him.

It hit me then… all at once.

The scent. The jacket. The cut on the wall.

The faint rumble of bikes outside.

“Oh,” I whispered, chest tightening. “I’m really here.”

Lock’s brows pulled together. “Kellan—”

“In Crimson Havoc territory,” I said, voice small and thin. “In your room. In your bed.”

His throat worked once, like he was trying to find the right reaction. He didn’t.

He just said, low and steady, “You’re safe.”

But safe wasn’t the problem.

The problem was how my body reacted to his voice.

How my chest pulled tight.

How the warmth in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

I should’ve been terrified.

Instead, I was something else entirely.

And that scared me way more.

My eyelids suddenly felt too heavy.

Like my body had had enough, and my brain was trying to overheat, or maybe my body was just shutting down the second it realized the danger had passed.

I tried to blink it away, tried to push myself a little more upright, but the room tilted and the warmth from Lock’s touch wouldn’t leave my skin.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure I was.

Lock shook his head once, slow and sure. “You’re not done recovering. Sleep.”

The word shouldn’t have hit as soft as it did.

My eyes kept drooping, but I fought to keep them open. His silhouette blurred at the edges. And his scent dragged me under faster, settling warm around me, steadying and confusing all at once.

“Don’t—” I tried, but my voice slurred. “I should… stay awake…”

“You don’t have to,” Lock murmured. “You’re safe here. Just rest.”

Safe. There was that word again.

Here.

With him.

That shouldn’t have made my chest loosen.

My head tipped forward before I could stop it. The mattress pulled me down, everything was warm and heavy and slow. My last flicker of awareness was Lock standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his gaze locked on me like he was guarding the room itself.

It was dangerous that I felt safer with him there than without.

And then everything went soft and dark.