Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Adalynn
A few days have passed since we reached the quiet, peaceful sanctuary of Dodge’s mother's house, yet I remain hyper-vigilant, jumping at the refrigerator's steady drone and every groan of the floorboards.
The open, tranquil countryside was meant to provide a comforting escape from the exhausting journey we endured, but my heart is still trapped in a state of pure survival.
Each sudden sound transforms into an immediate danger, a phantom echo of the heavy boots and cracking wood that tore our world apart in Colorado.
With my muscles tense and on high alert, I continuously watch the windows, anticipating the next blow and dreading the moment our past finally overtakes us.
Miranda has been incredibly kind, opening her home and piling our plates high with food, treating us with a motherly tenderness that makes my chest ache for the parents we lost. Noah and Amelia are slowly adjusting, their haunted expressions occasionally giving way to brief sparks of childhood curiosity as they help her feed the animals and chase each other across the open fields.
Yet, I can't shake the terrifying reality of our situation—we are entirely dependent on a dangerous biker and a motorcycle club because the outside world has become a merciless butcher shop.
We are running on borrowed time, hiding under a false name, while faceless killers continue their ruthless clean-up job across state lines.
Carter sticks close to Dodge as he picks up tips on fixing things around the place.
It’s a strange sight to witness. The hulking, gritty leader of the Saint’s Outaws looms in his worn leather vest right beside my fourteen-year-old brother.
Carter tries his best to play the grown-up role.
He keeps his posture stiff while clutching the extra handgun Dodge handed over, eager to keep us safe no matter what.
Dodge doesn’t blink at the kid’s tough act.
He uses a rough, steady hand to guide him, showing him how to stay invisible, how to scan the dark corners, and how to identify a threat before it moves.
Even though I can’t explain why, this scary newcomer decided to be our foundation and our armor, vowing to keep the predators away until the very end.
A painful tug-of-war plays out in my chest. I feel awful watching Carter forfeit his youth to carry this weight, yet I’m fiercely thankful he’s tough enough to manage it.
It’s a lousy bargain. Watching him force himself to mature so quickly makes my stomach churn.
I want to yank him away, tuck him back into a normal life where he’s just a kid, but the current reality offers no such mercy.
He’s teaching himself how to endure, and though the thought of it scares me, I won’t take this away from him.
It’s the first time since this entire thing started that he’s felt like he’s in control.
During the day, I keep busy by helping Miranda in the kitchen and tending to the farm animals, trying to distract myself from the survival mode that keeps my muscles coiled.
But once night falls and the quiet countryside turns still, Dodge and I spend hours together on the porch, talking and getting to know one another as we grow increasingly more comfortable in each other's presence.
Tonight is no different. He's sipping on a beer bottle, his eyes occasionally scanning the dark corners for any sign of the faceless killers, and I'm drinking a soft drink from the can, finding a brief, welcome reprieve in his silent protection.
Continuing our game of twenty questions, I ask him, “Did you always know, even as a kid, that you’d end up belonging to a motorcycle club?”
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrates in his broad chest. He takes a slow sip of his beer before answering.
“I hadn’t a clue. If you’d told my younger self I’d be riding with a club, I’d have thought you were crazy.
Back then, I figured I’d play ball, head to college, and maybe go pro if I was lucky.
Baseball was my life, plain and simple. Still, even during those long summers on the diamond, I found myself tinkering with bikes on the side.
There was just something about the way they worked that hooked me. ”
“I was like that with dance,” I state, the memory pulling a faint, bittersweet smile to my lips as I recall all of the endless practices, the bruising floor routines growing tougher and more demanding the older I got.
I lean back against the patio railing, looking out into the quiet open countryside as the past washes over me.
“From the moment I stepped into the studio each morning until the music finally stopped late at night, it consumed everything. I competed constantly, practically living in those sequins and tight buns, and I loved the absolute thrill of the crowd as they cheered me on, letting that thunderous applause wash over me on the stage.”
“It pumped up the adrenaline,” he muses, a faraway look settling into his dark eyes as he turns the beer bottle slowly in his hands.
“Every time I hit the pitcher’s mound, and the chants would start to echo from the bleachers, the rest of the world just fell away.
I’d laser focus onto the batter, tuning out the noise until it was just him, me, and the ball.
I was determined to strike each and every one out that came up to the plate, proving to myself that I had what it took to dominate the game. ”
“Do you ever wish you could go back to those days where things were simpler?” I inquire, lifting my head up and gazing at the stars.
They are clear out here compared to the city, each twinkling light has me thanking them that Carter and I were able to get our siblings to safety after our parents’ brutal murders.
I pull my knees up tightly against my chest, resting my chin on them as the cool night breeze brushes against my skin.
Looking up into that endless, dark sky, it is hard to believe that the same stars are shining over the horror we left behind in Colorado, where the memories still feel so loud and suffocating.
Out here, the silence gives me too much room to think.
I glance over at Dodge, wondering if he ever misses the clean slate of his youth, back when his only concern was the next pitch on the baseball diamond, long before the leather vest and the dangerous weight of the Saint’s Outaws took over his life.
“I can't say that I do,” he confesses. “Life might have been less complicated back then, like you mentioned, but seeing your mother slave away day in and day out leaves a mark on a kid. When our father walked out with his secretary to build a brand-new family and discard his old one, every single one of my plans and aspirations went up in smoke.”
“Are you the oldest of your siblings?” I ask, looking for common ground.
“Yeah, I’m the oldest,” he grumbles. “I was meant to set an example for the other two, help mold them into the kinds of men our mother would be proud of, but considering how lazy and pigheaded they both turned out, it obviously didn't accomplish much.”
A giggle escapes me. Does he really not see his own stubbornness? One thing I’ve learned about Dodge is his absolute tenacity—once he sets his mind on a goal, nothing can sway him from achieving it. Whatever the challenge, he pours all his strength into destroying it.
He gives me a quizzical look, asking, “Why are you laughing?”
“I suppose hardheadedness is a family trait, then?” I tease, trying to prod him just a bit.
His lips turn up into a slight smile as he shakes his head at me, asking, “Have you not met the woman who raised me? Where do you think I get it from?”
Laughing, I reply, “Touché.”
“Got something I need to talk to you about,” he says, his voice turning from playful to serious.
“Uh oh,” I mutter, unsettled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “You sound incredibly formidable right now. Should I be worried about what you have to say?”
“It isn’t anything terrible, Adalynn, but there is something I have to tip you off about,” he cautions.
I give a nod, signaling for him to keep going.
Locking his gaze directly onto mine, he states, “Some of my club brothers are en route here. I’m not sure what Phoenix uncovered, but it’s serious enough that it got him spooked and he called in backup. ”
“Dodge, should we just go?” I ask, feeling my throat tighten as the gravity of his news hits me. “You’ve risked everything for us already. Dragging your club and your mom into the middle of this mess isn’t something I can live with.”
“No way, Adalynn. If you leave by yourselves, you won’t make it.
As soon as you step past these property lines, you’ll be sitting ducks for the faceless killers trailing you across the states.
They have the reach, the resources, and a cold-blooded drive to complete their clean-up operation.
In the open, you won't have eyes in the back of your head, any protection against the danger on your heels, or a wall to lean against when they inevitably corner you. I gave my word I’d keep those assholes at bay until the very end, and I won't back out on that commitment now, no matter how crushing the burden becomes.”
“I really don’t want us to end up being a burden. In a way, I know we already are, but if the situation has truly gotten that dangerous, you ought to walk away from us before it multiplies.”
“I am a mathematician, Adalynn. Multiplying doesn’t scare me,” he replies.
“Well,” I say, blowing out a heated breath. “It scares the shit out of me.”
“You say I’m the hardheaded one, Adalynn, but I can already see your mind working, mapping out a plan to run off. You’ve spent too long bearing this weight by yourself. It’s time to step back and let someone else share the burden.”
“There’s that word again,” I mumble beneath my breath.
“That is merely a word in the dictionary, Adalynn,” he scolds. “I’m a man, and we do not flee when things get difficult. Protecting you from idiots is nothing… it’ll take a helluva lot more than that to make me run.”
“This is dangerous, Dodge,” I counter.
“I’m aware of that,” he interjects. “Knew that the second I heard the boys talking in that damn bathroom on the interstate.”
“I don’t want anything happening to you,” I confess.
“I don’t want anything happening to you either,” he says. “To any of you.”
Attempting to diffuse the growing tension between us, I query, “Are we having a moment, Dodge?”
“We’ve had many moments, firecracker,” he says, his breath low and husky, the vibration of his voice sending a sudden, electric shiver straight down my spine.
He steps closer, closing the small distance between us until the scent of leather, tobacco, and rain completely envelops my senses.
The playful banter that had sustained us through the night suddenly evaporates, replaced by a thick, suffocating heat that makes it hard to draw a full breath.
He reaches out, his rough, calloused thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw, a stark contrast to the absolute violence he is capable of unleashing to keep us safe.
In his dark eyes, the constant vigilance melts away for a fraction of a second, revealing a raw, fierce intensity that scares me just as much as it tethers me to the porch floorboards.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
I get lost in his intense stare and whisper back, “Go with your gut, Dodge,” though the words hitch in my throat.
I lean in, my fingers shaking as I bunch up the leather lapels of his cut to pull him closer.
The chill of the night disappears, replaced by a sudden warmth that makes my head spin.
Our breaths mingle in the small space between us.
It’s a dare, a challenge, the two of us waiting to see who makes the first move.