CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Liam
A
very’s finally sleeping.
It took a while to convince her to let the nurses give her something to help. None of us wanted her sedated unless she felt safe, and God knows the word “needle” sends her into a full-blown panic. We didn’t push—not right away. But she hasn’t rested, not truly, and the baby needs her strong. She needs to heal.
Eventually, she agreed—more for the baby’s sake than her own. The nurse came in afterward and told us they had to wait until Avery was completely out before they could place the IV. She kept flinching and crying “No needles,” even while half-asleep. It tore something in me. It tore something in all of us.
But she’s resting now, and that’s what matters.
Dan sits near her bed, hand lightly resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s afraid to let go. He hasn’t stopped looking at her since she fell asleep, and I get it. She’s here. She’s safe. But it still doesn’t feel real.
I rub my hands over my face, standing near the window while my brothers move around the room quietly. Kam’s on the phone securing the hotel floor for us—top floor, limited access. No one in, no one out without our say. It’s a fortress now. Dan will be staying in another room on the same floor, making sure Avery will have everything she needs when we bring her there tomorrow.
Hospitals like to discharge in the mornings, and if all goes as planned, we’ll have her out of here before noon. But we’re not taking any chances. We’ll have the car waiting. Security. A full plan.
"Dan, you ride with Jax and Lennox," I say, stretching the tension from my neck. "Head to your place and Avery’s, grab clothes and anything she might want around her.”
Dan nods, eyes never leaving his daughter.
“I can’t believe they let that psycho slip away,” Jax mutters, his jaw clenched as he zips up his jacket. “They had her right there… and she disappeared.”
Kam lets out a low grunt from the corner. “She’s desperate. That’s when people get sloppy. She’s not thinking straight anymore. Just reacting.”
“But still dangerous,” I add. “And unpredictable.”
Dan finally looks away from Avery, his face hard. “We all stay on alert. Every second. I don’t care if she’s a hundred miles away. If she shows her face again, I want to be ready.”
We all agree. None of us are taking chances—not with Avery, not with the baby.
“I still can’t wrap my head around it,” Lennox mutters, pacing near the end of the bed. “She kidnapped her. Kept her locked up for months. And for what? To raise our baby and pretend it was hers? Like we wouldn’t do a damn paternity test?”
Jax scoffs. “Sarah’s smart, but her plan was trash. Full of holes. She was never going to get away with it.”
“No,” I agree, jaw tight. “But she almost did. If Avery hadn’t fought like hell, she might’ve pulled it off. We were too damn close to losing her.”
Silence falls. The weight of everything we’ve nearly lost pressing down around us.
The worst part? We never saw it coming.
Sarah’s always been manipulative, sure. Self-centered. But this? This crossed into nightmare territory. Obsessive. Delusional. The way she was able to keep Avery hidden for that long, the way she lied to us, manipulated Jax with fake ultrasounds… it makes my blood boil.
But she didn’t win.
Avery’s alive. She’s here. And she’s carrying our baby.
That victory is enough to keep me grounded… for now.
“You’ll get the hotel ready, then circle back before discharge time,” Kam says, slipping his phone into his pocket, talking to Jaxton and Lennox. “Dan, you good to ride with them?”
“Yeah,” Dan says, rising to his feet. “Just make sure someone’s always with her until I get back.”
“I’m staying,” I say immediately, already dragging a chair closer to her bed. “You won’t have to worry. I’m not leaving her side.”
Dan nods once, then leans over to kiss Avery’s forehead before heading out with Jax and Lenn.
Once they’re gone, the room grows quiet again.
I look at her sleeping form, belly rising and falling beneath the blankets, and a sense of peace settles over me for the first time in what feels like forever.
She’s home.
Kam’s voice breaks the silence, low and thoughtful. “It still feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Having her home.”
I glance over at him, watching the way his gaze stays fixed on Avery as she sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. Her breathing is soft and even, her hand tucked beneath her cheek like she used to do when she fell asleep during movie nights. The memory makes my chest ache.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It really does.”
But the weight behind his words lingers in the air, and I know he’s asking more than that.
“How’re you holding up?” he asks gently, his eyes shifting to mine.
I hesitate for a second, then let out a long breath. “It’s... complicated.”
The words feel small compared to the storm brewing in my chest. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I try to make sense of it all.
“There’s this high,” I admit. “Like I can’t stop smiling because she’s here. Because she’s safe. I look at her and everything feels like it’s going to be okay again.”
Kam nods, understanding in his eyes, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“But then,” I continue, my voice quieter, heavier, “there’s this sadness... this anger that creeps in right behind it. Because we know, Kam. We know she went through hell. And even though she’s back, even though we’re holding her hand and seeing her smile... there are pieces of her that were broken while she was locked away. Shit she hasn’t told us. Probably can’t even say out loud yet.”
Kam looks back toward her, his jaw clenched. “Yeah. That’s the part that guts me the most. Not being able to fix it.”
I nod slowly. “We want to be her safe place. Her outlet. But... it might take time. And that’s okay. I just—I hate knowing she carried all of it alone for so long.”
“She doesn’t have to anymore,” Kam says firmly, eyes still locked on her. “No more silence. No more chains. We’re here now. And when she’s ready… she’ll talk.”
My throat tightens, emotions surfacing too fast for me to shove them down. “I just hope she knows she can. That she doesn’t have to protect us from what she’s been through.”
“She knows,” Kam says, his voice full of conviction. “She’s always known.”
I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way the soft light catches on the bruises fading along her skin. She's here. She fought her way back to us. And even if it takes weeks or months—or hell, years—for her to open up about what happened, we’ll be here. Waiting. Loving her through every crack and scar.
“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known,” I whisper.
Kam nods again, eyes still on Avery. “And she’s ours.”