Chapter 17 Keeley #2
His eyes are furious and protective all at once. “You’re not a fuckin’ asset, Keeley.”
“Then what am I?”
“Mine,” he growls. “You’re fuckin’ mine.”
This morning I would have given anything to have that assurance from him. But not now. Not when I’m nothing more than a weight around his neck.
Not when I’m the one thing that’s going to get him killed.
Heat and fear tangle inside me until I can’t tell them apart. The reckless part of me wants to lean into him, let him steady me. I don’t move. I can’t.
He leans his forehead to mine, voice dropping into something so fractured it almost breaks through the terror so I can tell him yes. I am his. I want him so badly.
“You didn’t cause this,” he repeats. “You got dragged into someone else’s war.”
It sits heavily on my chest. I feel like I’m underwater, everything rippling and dulled, muted but sharp, not soft. There’s a metal taste in my mouth, mixing with bile.
“I should check on… the others,” I murmur.
“They’re fine. You’re gonna sit. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
His arm hooks around my waist before I can say a word and he hauls me to my feet. Something pulls along my ribs as Nic lowers me into the nearest chair like I’m fragile. He waits a second to make sure I don’t slump forward.
“Nic.” Mace’s voice cuts between us. “Need you.”
The look on his face tells me this isn’t over—not by a long shot. Of course it isn’t. Men who collect people as collateral and shoot into MC clubhouses don’t just slink off quietly into the distance.
I watch the muscle in Nic’s jaw tick. There’s a war raging inside him. He’s caught between me and the club. Because he doesn’t get to just sit here and keep me from falling apart. He’s president. The whole place is his responsibility. Not just me.
Guilt spikes again, this time physically sharp under my ribcage.
I squeeze his hand. “Go,” I urge softly. “Do what you need to.”
I can tell he’s doesn’t want to, but I’m just one fire among hundreds he’s trying to put out. He has a crisis to manage, men to organise, defences to build.
Retaliation to plan.
Fuck.
People are going to get hurt. Dayna, the girls. Nic’s men. They didn’t ask for this, for me.
“Don’t move from here, yeah?”
I nod, numb and hollow.
Finally Nic moves away, taking Mace with him. Riot and Dash join them after a moment. Diesel last and hesitantly because Makenna’s still bleeding.
I see the shift from Nic to Phoenix between one blink and the next. It’s strange that this man who cups my face like I’m delicate, who makes me toast and kisses me breathless has this dark, dangerous edge beneath that.
He keeps his voice low enough that I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can see the urgency and the fury rolling off him. Even with his jaw ticking and his eyes blazing, his attention flicks to me between the punctuated rage.
My hands tremble in my lap as Seren’s inconsolable cry goes straight through me.
This only happened because Nic’s protecting me. If I wasn’t here, they would be safe.
That thought is so loud I can’t ignore it.
I can’t stay.
I’m on my feet before I realise I’ve moved. No one looks at me. No one stops me as I cross the room like a ghost. My heart should be racing. I don’t know how to avoid a man who thinks I’m his payment, but I’m not scared. I’m not even thinking.
I pause in front of the door, the one that leads outside. The one Nic locked to stop me from leaving when I first got here. I don’t expect it to open, but I grab the handle. There’s a suspended moment where I think it won’t move, but to my surprise, it gives.
My breath hitches. It’s unlocked. Nic… trusts me to stay now. And I’m about to prove why he shouldn’t have.
Fuck.
I blink back my tears. Tears for the man who made me feel something for the first time in my entire life. For the man I’m destroying by staying.
I slip through it without looking back.
Before I change my mind.
Before I can’t leave him.
It opens into a corridor, narrow and dark. There’s a set of doors at the end of it, the glass in the frame blown out. Each step toward it jars something deep and wrong, but I keep moving.
I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I don’t know how to avoid a man who thinks he owns me, but I’ll figure it out. I just… I can’t stay here.
I can see the sky and buildings through the front door. It should feel like freedom, but it doesn’t.
The air rushes in cold and biting, one jagged shard of glass left in the frame. Something bites through the fabric of my socks as I reach for the handle.
“Keeley!” Nic’s voice sounds choked.
I freeze for an agonising beat.
No.
I’m nearly out. Heavy, quick footfalls sound behind me, and my ears ring.
Panic makes me clumsy, but I shove the door open and an arm bands around my waist, yanking me back like I weigh nothing. My socks slide uselessly as I’m dragged against a solid wall of muscle and wrapped in his arms.
I gasp, all other sounds torn out of my throat as his grip tightens.
“Let go of me!” I thrash and twist, heat spreading through my side.
Nic absorbs everything I throw at him and shifts his grip higher, locking across my ribs. Then his mouth moves to my ear. “Keeley, stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Me.
Not him.
Even now, he’s worried about me. That should be enough to calm the panic blooming within me, but it’s not.
I shove desperately at his arms, push back against him—anything to get free—but he’s like a wall.
“I can’t stay.” The words choke out of me. I hate how weak and broken I sound.
“You can,” he says, his voice iron, “and you will.”
“I’m going to get you killed. All of you.”
“Sunshine, you’re killing me here.” His voice is raw, broken even. That hurts me too.
“I can’t watch you—” I break off, unable to get more out through my tears.
The fight drains out of me and my knees try to buckle. His grip changes instantly, supporting now instead of caging.
“You leave and I’ll fuckin’ drag you back.” His mouth brushes my temple. “Don’t make me chase you, sunshine.”
He turns me to face him, his hands locking around my arms before I can fold in on myself. My body feels loose and heavy, the ground unsteady under my feet. I choke back a sob.
“You don’t leave me,” he murmurs into my hair. “You hear me? You don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry.” My breath hitches as another sob tears out of me. “I’m ruining everything.”
“Don’t fuckin’ say that.” His hand wraps around my nape and he pulls me into his chest. “Don’t ever fuckin’ say that.”
My fingers fist into his shirt and I cling to him. “You should have let me go.”
His hands are on my face before I finish speaking and his control fractures for a second. “I’ll never let you go.”
“The kids. They were shot at, Nic. Little babies were shot at because of me.”
“Because of them,” he corrects. His fingers flex against my cheeks. “You don’t sacrifice yourself for this.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to run.”
“Right,” he says quietly. “Where were you plannin’ on hidin’ from a man with unlimited resources?”
I blink at him. How does he know that? “You know who he is.”
“Yeah.” He hesitates, watching me to check I’m steady enough for this. “His name’s Demetri Morozov.”
I swallow. I didn’t expect to get a name for the man who thinks he owns me, and it doesn’t feel better having it. “Who is he?”
He brushes my hair back from my face so softly my eyes burn. “A Russian suit with delusions of playin’ mob boss. Problem is he’s rich enough to cause a headache.”
I don’t realise my knees have buckled until Nic’s hands clamp around me, holding me up.
“Shit, Keeley. Easy.”
My vision fractures and everything rolls around me. He lowers me onto the floor, leaning my back against the wall. The movement sends white-hot pain so sharp it steals the air out of my lungs.
What the hell?
I hiss through my teeth and my hand flies to my side, trying to stop the pain or ease it—I don’t know. And that’s when I feel it. Sticky and wet against my palm.
What the—
I blink down at the red smears coating my fingers like it’ll disappear if I look at it long enough.
Blood.
My blood.
Nic freezes and there’s a beat of silence where time feels like moving through cement.
Then he moves.
His fingers twist in the hem of my hoodie, shoving it up without asking—like I did to him. Only, where he was clear, I’m not.
There’s a slick, dark stain spreading over the waistband of my pants. I only see a flash beneath the pooling blood before it disappears under Nic’s hands.
I let out a guttural rasp when he presses against the wound so hard I see stars. Searing pain spreads under my ribs until I can’t think.
“Stop.” I try to bat his hands away, but he doesn’t let me and he doesn’t ease up either. “Nic, that hurts.”
“I know, sunshine,” he murmurs like it costs him to cause me pain. “I’m sorry.” His eyes are focused as he triages me like a field medic. “You okay?” His gaze cuts between me and the wound, as if he’s patched up wounds like this a hundred times before.
“Yeah,” I breathe the lie.
I am not even remotely okay.
“You should have told me you were bleedin’.”
“I didn’t know,” I mumble, my dry mouth making my tongue feel too thick. “I thought it was… I thought I…” I don’t know what I thought, so I don’t finish that thought. “Is it bad?” He doesn’t look at me. That feels ominous. “Nic, is it bad?” I repeat.
His fingers press carefully around the edges of the wound, but I still suck in a breath through my teeth. He goes still for half a second—long enough for my stomach to drop. Then he lets out a rough exhale through his nose and kisses my temple.
“It’s a cut,” he says finally. “Not a bullet wound.” Relief sucks the tension out of his shoulders and my heart rate slows with his. Then, almost to himself, he says, “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure which part I’m apologising for—not knowing I was leaking like a faucet, the attack itself or trying to run.
“None of this was your fault.” He puts pressure back on the wound. “You didn’t put those kids on the floor. You didn’t fire into my clubhouse. And you ain’t fuckin’ leavin’ me, you hear me?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.”
His eyes locks to mine. “You walk out of here and that’s what happens, Keeley. I lose everythin’.”
“Nic,” I whisper.
His forehead drops to mine like he needs the connection. “You don’t leave me.” His voice drops low. “I won’t let you. Not when I just got you.”